Delayed Reactions, Procrastination and the Pandemic

For several months I have the hardest time composing an entry for our MFA blog.

I feel the weight of the pandemic on myself and on us all; I feel I should address it, or name it, or allude to it. 

But I do not see that I have anything constructive, useful, in charge or creative about it.

It’s there.  It makes an impact, a dent, an anxiety, or weight that makes it hard for me to escape into my imagination, the free space where I go, what I sometimes call the story room.  Other times I call it being lost in thought.  Whatever I call it, going there requires a measure of security I currently lack.

As writers well know, being able to name an experience, makes a tremendous difference.  As reported by Tara Haelle, the concept of “ambiguous loss” gave me a way to articulate my sense of disorientation.  I’m not sick (yet), and I’m fortunate that no one I love has died (yet), and yet, anxiety is constant.

Ambiguous loss refers to “any loss that’s unclear and lacks a resolution.”  The loss of one’s ordinary patterns—Haelle’s own example is the loss of her routine of writing in coffee shops—losing, for example, meeting friends for dinner at a restaurant, doing dancing, engaging with colleagues face-to-face creates grief and disorientation.  Losing the opportunity to attend a family gathering, such as a wedding, graduation, or Thanksgiving, creates a sense of loss.  Being told to stay at home or to limit trips outside of one’s home except for exercise or grocery shopping means the loss of the sense of freedom and spontaneity, of being in control of one’s place in the world. 

Naming the experience of ambiguous loss helps to lift the burden of self-accusation or self-puzzlement.  Hearing others describe what they are going through helps as well. 

The July/August 2020 issue of Poets & Writers offers two resources that I found helpful. 

An article “What We Found in Writing” compiles reflections on writing during the opening months of the pandemic.  Some never left off regular writing; some did but found their way back to consistent practice.  Others found outlets for words in journaling, writing letters, or in phone calls.  A few accepted not to work at all on long-term projects and to focus on caring for themselves and their families.  No single answers, no simple answers, but reading the piece encouraged me.

The second resource is a poster on the back cover of the issue, created by the staff of Writers’ League of Texas (writersleague.org).  The top of the poster announces:  Now is the time to:  Write. Or don’t write.  The body of the page is filled with a list of suggested actions to take, such as “Buy a book;” “Plant a Shakespeare Garden,” and “Learn to Say “I’m a writer” in a different language.”  The bottom of the poster echoes the top—with a twist: “Write. Or Don’t Write.  Repeat.”

The excerpt I’ve quoted barely communicates the wit and energy of the poster. 

Follow this link to see the poster:  http://www.writersleague.org/226/WLT-Write--Or-Dont-Write--Poster

—Vicki Phillips, Fiction ‘18, MFA Blog Editor