I thought by now I’d be back to blogging and writing and tweeting and the rest, but I’m still stalled in a holding pattern as my home renovations roll toward the end. Why? I’m not sure. I’m speculating that the uncertainty of the moment—the pandemic—has created an atmosphere that mucks around with everyone’s brains, habits, and abilities. I’m writing stories in my head, but few are reaching the keyboard (or a piece of paper). And none seem to find a satisfying ending. It’s not writer’s block. There’s no lack of ideas. It’s something else. When I figure it out, I’ll do something about it. OR… I’ll just start writing again without any real understanding. Um…
A ghost in the works? Is it a new mystery to solve? Whatever it is, I keep starting weird little fictions without true story arcs. There’s something missing. What is it?
It’s not a ghost mucking up my brain—although this new apartment project is haunted by my late parents and their aspirations for me. And, although it appears to be a mystery without a solution, I think I’m homing in on it like a good detective. I think it’s the misdirection of the energy I use to write.
The errant cast of characters (crews, project manager, architects, electricians, plumbers, building personnel, and neighbors) can push the story of my new home toward horror, mystery, suspense, drama, and yes, even comedy! Just keeping up with who is doing what or who is failing to do what they are supposed to do, is like wrangling the cast of characters in a complex Russian novel or a herd of house cats. In this reality the story arcs are muddled; and the endings are inconclusive.
I’ve gained a new real estate/construction centered vocabulary from flashing and punch lists to site reports and capitol gains mitigation. I’m sure some of this will wind up being useful, as knowledge is never wasted in a writer’s mind. But why is it so hard to just write right now? The energy feels sucked away by emails to the contracting company, researching décor options, and shopping lists. I had to bribe myself into making lamp shade decisions with two visits to the Museum of Modern Art. At least I’m happy with the new lamp shades!
Let’s hope the writing energy returns to writing soon.
At least you have a good excuse. I have none. (Also, I can’t wait to see what you eventually create out of this chunk of time and crazy experience!)
Back during the lock down and in the months following (before the move to the new place) I wrote a bunch of pandemic stories. I even shared one here, but… many are unfinished. I keep thinking I can and will go back and finish them when the crew finally finishes the work and the architects are on to other projects and the pictures are hung on the walls and the books are on shelves and… (you get the picture)… We’ll see.
I’ve been having trouble writing too. Sometimes I’ll have a run of good writing, but it never lasts. Most of the time my brain flits around from pandemic news to vaccination news to the sameness of every day, and the energy simply isn’t there. I do force myself to at least do some editing every day, but the creative process is mostly stalled.
Maybe we all need to feel confident of the future? Or maybe the real world is more ‘interesting’ than any fiction we can come up with.
Honestly don’t know.
Hope your renovations are completed successfully, and soon. -hugs-
I do see the end of this process… But I also see how strange the world is becoming. The pandemic brings to light all sorts of inequities in the U.S. From access to health care and food desert neighborhoods to educational gaps and vast numbers of people susceptible to conspiracy theories. With all the doors to activities that closed, windows opened onto weird realities about other people and the state of the U.S. and other developed nations.