Which Kind of Pandemic Writer are You?

Hello, fellow writers! Please forgive me; it’s been I-have-no-idea-how-long since my last post (which I also began with a line like this).

I have many writer friends, and the dichotomy of their social media posts has been extreme. Half of them are posting updates like:

“I wrote the equivalent of War and Peace, organized my studio, and delivered food to the homeless. After lunch, I configured all the necessary shortcuts on my keyboard. I’m sitting here in my Zen chair at my altar with this lovely glass of wine to relax for a moment before I go online live, teaching a free class on “Character Dialogue” (if any of you are interested, follow this link). Would anyone like to be a beta-reader for two of my books (“Ayurvedic Medicine” and “Anyone Can Be MacGuyver”)?
What are you up to today?”

The other half are posting updates like:

“I got off the couch today. (Daily word count: 6)”

This whole ‘situation’ (shitshow, really) seems to have had that divisive effect on the writing community. It’s affected every single person in the world differently, but now I’m just talking about writers. We are either super-productive or slugs, with no in-between. Have you noticed that about yourself? Which are you?

I’m both – and there is still no in-between. Which side I’m on depends on the day; I’m either a writing machine or lump on the couch. I can’t honestly say that I haven’t written much here because I was busy writing elsewhere, because that would only be true sometimes. Sometimes, I was just decorating my bed.

Anyone else like that?

Last month, I edited a book in a week. I did nothing else that week. Then I made up for it by doing nothing at all the following week.

This month, I’ve been working with another writer. For three hours a day maybe three or four days a week, we are editing her book together, chapter by chapter. On some days, that motivates me to stay at the computer and write my own stuff; other days … that’s enough writing for today.

When the rhythm is there, it’s there. When it’s not, it’s just not. I love that and hate it.

Two weeks ago I created a journal and published it on Amazon. I can’t really say I wrote a journal, can I? It’s all blank places for someone else to write. But it was all formatting and designing and did take time. (Those of you who’ve published with KDP can understand the formatting issues I may have come up against.) And it was a creative idea that I acted on. So, it counts, right?

Basically it’s a time capsule kind of journal, specifically for this year 2020, (this whole shitshow) with prompts and list ideas all relating to keeping track and writing about what we are going through individually.

For all my not writing too much here, I have been pushing others to write about any and all experiences during this time. We have the opportunity to write history, people! In real time! So that 200 years down the line, not one person will be able to say that the history they are being taught is not factual or incomplete!

I’ll get off the soapbox now.

Anyway, a writer friend of mine made a big deal about my publishing this journal so soon after publishing my book book (in November). She posted a great review with the line:

“I’m ordering today, once I get over my jealousy that she thought up such a genius book AND made it available so soon.”

Yes, my peacock feathers absolutely blossomed at the first half of the sentence – and I completely deflated at the last.

“… made it availabe so soon.”

I didn’t, really, and I know it. Do you want to know when I came up with the idea, the whole, complete, done-in-my-head idea? March 23, the day after I got fired. Three months ago! I had an idea for something that I knew would only be relevant for a short period of time and didn’t act on it for three months? It wasn’t until it nagged at me enough while I was slugging about that I finally got off of my ass and did it. I’m lucky that people are still showing interest in it, it’s out so much later than it should have been!

So now I can’t even celebrate that accomplishment as ‘something I did’ because all I think about is that it was ‘something I should have done‘. If I’d been fully-functional, and not the half-sloth (probably closer to 3/4), how much more could I have done?

Of course, I have to stop beating myself up. I have to acknowledge my depression (and stop beating myself up for that, too).

I think I mentioned once before here that I was going to make some kind of schedule, some kind of time management grid that (if I followed it) would have specific chunks of time devoted to the different writing projects – and I could be timely and consistent. Obviously, by the fact that I said I may have mentioned this before, this is yet another example of an older thought I haven’t acted on.

I’m aware I make excuses. One of my favorites is the fact that the world situation keeps changing and therefore schedules keep changing. What will happen to that awesome schedule if/when I have to go back to work outside of the house? Now, I sound like my kids: why bother, if it’s going to change? Oy.

The writing is already on the wall (pun intended) for today. I’ve already worked a bit with my friend, and now I’ve done this.

That’s enough writing for today.

Maybe it won’t be. I can only hope.

“What are you up to today?”

I Had to Force Myself to Write Today

Strange times indeed, eh?

When this shutting in/physical distancing/isolation set in, I was still working. To be honest, I was almost resenting the new ‘time’ other people had to stay at home because I was thinking that this would be a novel (pun intended) time to be able to write.

No. I’m not one of those who can afford to stay home, and being forced to would definitely fuck me financially – but it wasn’t like I wasn’t already in that position. I left a job last September under surprising and depressing circumstances. The job I’d been most previously working was the job-I-took-to-still-be-working, the first job I was offered within three days of not working, the job I had to take to bring at least some income in while I looked for a job I could live (or at least survive ) off of – and all that means is that I took an easy, local, and low-paying job.

The circumstances under leaving the previous job were depressing enough, and I’d already admitted to being depressed, anyway. But this newer job made it all even worse. The job market isn’t (or wasn’t) what everyone said it was, unless they were talking about only the jobs that most people would be taking at the beginning of their working careers or as side jobs to supplement incomes. The ‘newer’ way of finding jobs online is time-consuming – the application processes alone could take weeks, and potential employers could take their time in responding. It took me four months between my initial application and the official rejection for one job (which included having to fill out the application, a later essay, two separate-and-weeks-apart questionnaires, a phone interview (with a recording), and a final full-day ‘presentation’ interview with over 100 other candidates (no parking on the facility) and sit-down ‘interview’ at a table with 4 other applicants) – and that was just one of the many I’ve applied for. With that type of ‘job market’ most of us could become homeless if we did not work while we were looking for a job.

That resentment I mentioned earlier stemmed from my reaching that point where I had to choose which need was more dire to me: time or money. If I was in a job that didn’t help me financially anway but took all of my time, why not be allowed more time if my finances would basically be the same? With more time, I could be more productive; I could spend more time looking for another job and have time to write – both of which could potentially better affect my financial situation.

And then I got the time, when I was let go. Okay, I was fired. That was actually hilarious to me for so many reasons, not the least of which was that I’m a 52-year-old single, female parent who knows how not to get fired – we will put up with a lot of bullshit at a job just to keep a job because of our responsibilities.

My former boss did me a favor, though. He gave me that time I wanted.

And I took it. My first two weeks at home were so productive I should have been wearing a cape – I was that productive.

And then I hit a wall. The elation I felt at getting out of that job situation could be compared to a caffeine or sugar high – there is a crash when it’s over. My relief at being out of that stressed environment was short-lived, because it was only one of my problems – just the one that was affecting me most directly at the time.

I’ve said it before: needs, priorities, wants, and goals are the same things; the only differences are in their level of importance. That is why you are told you have to ‘want it enough’ when you are looking to achieve something. That is also why necessity became the mother of invention.

But the bottom line of any achievement is that none of us rest on our laurels afterwards; we either look for another goal or find another fire to put out.

The world situation, the pandemic, and the isolation enforced has changed the job market again – or is changing it, making a job search rather … off? unpredictable? … futile? Unless you got one of the enviable jobs working from home, would you want to get a job being out in the general public when we are being told globally that physical distancing is what is needed right now? Would you trust an employer who made that choice, who determined who is ‘essential’ based on the needs of his or her company – even if you understood his or her own level of need?

When you are depressed, you need a goal or something to look forward to. The uncertainty of what the future holds has been exacerbated because, right now, everyone is flying blind. The time that I was excited to have to be able to look for a job and write more was now filled with … nothing. I was having trouble being motivated to do anything – which added to more of depression’s self-loathing.

I decided to coddle myself a bit. To ‘suggest’ to myself to accomplish one thing without force – and to make sure I didn’t beat myself up if I didn’t. To pat myself on the back for what I did do – even if it was just getting out of bed. Two days into that I had to justify my own treatment of myself with myself – because I was not brought up that way: you DID WHAT YOU HAD TO DO. Suck it up, cupcake.

While depression is common, acceptance of it isn’t. Here I was, dealing with the most severe level of it in my life and I was finding myself to be just as judgmental and punishing as those I’ve said didn’t accept it.

The better side of me won the argument after another two days. I’m human, and I am not accepting myself to be less of anything by admitting I have a problem.

I went back to my coddling of myself – and then I changed the word ‘coddling’ to ‘supporting’ when I realized that that word choice showed my lower opinion of myself early on.

I didn’t move mountains, but I started doing more and being able to do more. One day, I was putzing around doing little things in the house, and all of a sudden I was motivated to finish something – it just sort of happend organically. I was so pleased I almost took a nap!

Since then, it’s been the baby steps, the one day at a time. The continuously reminding myself that even if the future is uncertain, I still have the right now.

Today is Sunday. For some reason, Sunday mornings became my favorite writing time – which was always funny to me because I usually worked weekends. I had no intention of writing today (I’m still working on my intentions), but because of my recent breakthrough I was able to ‘suggest’ to myself that I sit down and write, since it ‘is Sunday, after all’.

And here I am. (Yay, me!) Even if this wasn’t a Pulitzer prize-winning piece, it was still something I wrote. And I discovered (in my ‘support’ of myself) that what had been an annoying trait of getting off-topic while I write is instead the gentle tapping on my shoulder of the muses with suggestions of other topics to write about (Inspiration).

I used to tell my drill-instructor father that raising kids is not about breaking them down, but encouraging them. As much as I knew that, I apparently didn’t know that in practical terms. It seems that I am learning another lesson in practicing what I’ve preached.

I began writing again, I accepted something about my writing habits, and I learned something.

That’s three things I did today.

Yay, Me!

Write On, Writer

• 

Life’s Little Surprises

I didn’t expect to be writing here so soon, but a little happy event prompted this. I’ll admit, it could be my ego feeling the need for a follow-up so soon after a public declaration of depression – I have a hard time sometimes, admitting my ‘human-ness’. It must be the man in me. 😀

Yesterday was my day off from work, but because I work for one of the few places that does not participate in direct deposit I have to go in for my paycheck. When I got there I found a duffle bag with my name on it and a note that said simply “From a customer”.

The bag was full of books – and not just any books, but books that pertain to me and my writing! Each book I pulled out was a book that had appeal to me, or some correlation to what I write about.

Without knowing at first who left it for me, I knew that this was one of the most thoughtful gifts I’d ever received – if it had come from a romantic interest, I would’ve considered it a marriage proposal. Have you ever had a batch of books curated especially for you? It would have to be from someone who understands you, who listens when you speak …

I did figure out who it was from.

I met a man and woman who come into my store, separately – they never come in together. Over the past 6 months I’ve been working at the store, I’ve developed a sort of friendship with them. We bonded over books and writing, and they were very interested in what I was writing about and asked how to get a copy of my book.

I found out later they were married to each other, and that they are reading (and enjoying) my book, together.

I can’t ignore how much wonderful-ness is in this little event: a surprise gift, a surprise thoughtful gift, validation as an author, connection, acknowledgment … and the little lift I get when I realize a married couple is reading my book (that’s the ego speaking; I’ve been accused of being a raging feminist who is against marriage). and the two of them, reading – and enjoying, as they said – my book together, makes me so happy.

They left the books for me.

And all of this came from the job I resent so much.

Isn’t that a kick in the ass?

 

Getting Back in the Saddle

Forgive me, Susie, it’s been – hold on while I check – 19 days since my last post. I wasn’t planning on writing here daily, but I think my original goal was at least once every two weeks.

The whys of a period of not writing for me never have the reason of “nothing to say” and almost always rely on outside circumstances. This is not my first blog; I’m now writing  3 separate ones (sorted by topic, somewhat). With the first blog – or the first time I tried to start one – my issue for delay was fear, plain and simple. Why do it? Who’s going to read it? Will I be taken seriously? I pushed myself into doing it. It took 3 separate starts before it ‘took’.  Then when I got into it and got a modest (very modest) following, it got easier – as in, less fearful.

*One thing I learned about fear in writing, as far as it goes for me, is that when I notice I’m most afraid to hit the publish button is the time that I have to. It’s a sign to me that what I wrote was my most genuine.

I think we tend to start new things when we realize we are in times of transition, and then later realize that it might have been better to have waited til the end of the transitional period to start something. Routine anything is hard to maintain when everything seems to be changing.

My original blog (the one that stuck) was put aside temporarily while I finished my book; I wanted to make sure I wasn’t writing the same things in both the book and the blog. Plus, those last few ‘hours’ of the rewrites and edits take an exhausting amount of time, and like most writers I have a day job that I can’t yet quit.

The next ‘blog interruption’ came in the form of marketing said book. All of my ‘free’ time was spent on getting the word out, contacting independent book stores (and visiting independent bookstores when I was able to put aside some money to buy a significant stash of books to deliver), tweaking all of my social media accounts to allow for promoting and selling, and then wasting time grumbling about how much more work it was to promote a book than to write it.

It was that grumbling period, though, that prompted this particular blog. I wanted to write about writing. I see many other people blogging about how to write, sell, promote (and I thank every one of them for their time and valuable information), but that wasn’t what I wanted to do; I wanted to focus on the life of a writer, my life as a writer-with-a-day-job, because I know my experiences are not isolated. All of us writers (those of us who are not yet fortunate enough to just be the writers we know we are) experience so many of the same issues regarding familial and friend support (or non-support), being taken seriously enough to be ‘allowed’ the time to write by our immediate circles – even my cats think they can dictate whether or not it’s time for me to write, dealing with insecurity and sense of worth regarding our work, managing our time to be able to write, and learning the steps of self-promotion (and all the new insecurity that gets dredged up with that).

Right now (obviously), my issue is with time management. I’ll be honest, right now this period of transition (and I have to force myself to look at it that way to make myself understand it is temporary) is especially difficult for me; I’ve been forced to realize and admit that I’m dealing with a depression I’ve never sunk to the depths of before. I may write more about that later, but for right now I’ll say that depression is a knock-out punch to motivation. I want to write, but sometimes can’t even work myself up into enough enthusiasm to sit my ass at the computer.

Another silly deterrent of mine isn’t time so much as enough time. Part of my previously mentioned ‘condition’ is a strong resentment (best I could say) to my job. Nothing frustrates me more than being at my computer and writing (happily writing) and having to stop because I have to go to work. We all have peeves with normal interruptions, I know, but I realized sometimes I would just rather not write than deal with the total frustration of that kind of interruption because I would go to work more resentful than I already was.

Yeah, I’m working on that.

There’s also an odd dichotomy at work for me, too. I’m promoting a book that I am actually very enthusiastic about and proud of. Sometimes I feel like I’m two people: on one side, I’m the sassy, opinionated female and writer I want to be – or know I am;  and then there’s the other side: the depressed, under-employed (overworked), menopausal, and trapped slug.

In a clearer moment, like right now, I can see a little benefit in the lessons I’m learning about time, change (which I’ve actually always been a big fan of), and synchronicity. It’s the synchronicity and small serendipitous ‘coincidences’ (and I don’t believe in coincidence) that I’m so happy I still have my wits about me to notice.

My first ex used to call me a “Fucking Cheerleader” – and he never meant that in a good way. Since I do believe negativity is a choice of focus, I can see how annoying I would be to someone who wants to believe that the world is a terrible place and that life is supposed to be hard. I can even see how annoying it is for me when that inner cheerleader shoves those fucking pom-poms in my own face when I want to wallow.

She is here with me now, and I’m letting her sit next to me for now. And I’m writing.

And I’m going to hit the ‘publish’ button in a few minutes, even though my original plan was to write about the ideas I came up with to ‘help manage writing time during changing times’ and I never got to that.

Because, at least, I’m back in the saddle.

Rah-Rah-Rah!