Getting through lockdown

I knew it was my turn to post on the blog this week, but I've been putting off writing anything. I've struggled this week with everything, to be honest. My uncle died on Tuesday, and this week should have been the start of a new adventure in France, and I've found it hard to get on with anything. So with only a few hours to spare before my blog post should go up, I've just written a kind of brain dump on life during lockdown.

Really, is a writer's life in lockdown very different from normal? I know many writers who are by nature hermits. They live alone, they sit in their home offices to write, they order shopping online and have it delivered, they conduct friendships online via social media, they venture out only infrequently to meet family. They panic when they need to meet up with editors or agents and spend days wondering what to wear and how to manage the journey. They're happier in the company of their imaginary characters than in the company of flesh and blood friends.

And yet - it is different. Knowing you can't go out for a coffee with a friend. You can't decide to invite family for Sunday lunch. There's no chance of a lunch out with your editor. And although cancellation of a writers' conference means less expense and less stressing about how you'd get there - you were looking forward to it so much and now it's been crossed out of your diary, along with everything else.

And there's pressure on you that comes with the knowledge there's not much else to do other than write, so surely you should be writing double your usual output, working on more than one project, getting yourself well ahead of deadlines. Yet you don't feel like writing, you can't concentrate, you spend hours on social media or checking the news - what's the latest death toll, what mad solution has Trump advised now, has Johnson been spotted anywhere yet? When you finally force yourself away from the computer or phone, all you want to do is curl up with an escapist book, watch popcorn TV or lose yourself in a meaningless jigsaw puzzle.

'If you don't emerge from the lockdown with a new skill, you never lacked time, you lacked motivation," say dozens of memes shared across Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. You then feel guilty because there are friends posting that they've spring-cleaned their house, completed the couch to 5km programme, learned French, baked cakes and made bread, or worst of all - written 3000 words a day on their latest novel. And all you've done is fritter away the day.

But then there are the tweets that say if you have simply made it through the day you have succeeded, because frankly that's all many of us are required to do right now. Sometimes we'll have good days when we feel on top of things and can accomplish something (even if it is just putting a load of washing on) and other days when we can't. And that's all right. Just as when you've lost a loved one and are learning to live alongside that fact, it's OK to give yourself permission to simply grieve. We're all grieving in a way, for the life we had and the opportunities we've lost. And too many are grieving for loved ones who've died. No one tells a recently-bereaved person to buck up and get on with writing a novel or learning a language. We shouldn't tell each other this either, during the current crisis.

It's like surfing, my husband used to tell me some years ago when I was dealing with my mother's illness and death. The waves keep on coming, and some of them will knock you off the surfboard, but the trick is to get back on as soon as you can, and learn to surf those waves rather than stay submerged underwater. I've been under a lot this week, but I know I'll get back on the board soon and the waves will carry me forward rather than threatening to drown me. Until then, it's OK to simply tread water for a bit.