Did you ever have that one project or dream that you just can’t seem to get the time to do? Or some other limitation has prevented you from getting to it (like, say, a pandemic?!?!). And every time you do think about it, it’s so far from what you wanted it to be by this point that it’s easier to just kick it down the road again than to deal with it?
This year has been the perfect setup for this kind of stuff to happen.
Since I haven’t written on this blog for a while, you can probably guess what my disappointment has been: writing. Writing and I have a complicated relationship. I tend to wait to write fiction only if certain conditions are met:
- Quiet house
- Chores done
- Workout completed
- Big chunk of time available
- Motivated
The pandemic blasted through the previously quiet, generally clean house like a storm that won’t settled down. Honest to goodness, I never imagined the kids would be out of school and doing virtual schooling for this long. Remember at the beginning of this virus era when we thought it would end after a few weeks, then a month or so, then maybe by summer? I don’t even want to look for the light at the end of the tunnel anymore; I’m sick of false hopes.
In October, I started a nonfiction nursing blog for lots of reasons, and it’s been what I write lately. It’s also a safe(ish) subject, with some exceptions. On Facebook, I posted about the virus transmission between people wearing masks and got a snide comment from what I assumed was a mask-protestor. Don’t even get me started. Last night when I left our little community hospital, the covid floor and the ICU were maxed out with positive patients. Mask protestors need a little field trip to their local hospital to see what they don’t want to see. But for the most part, the nursing blog is doing well. I got 44 followers, LOL. And even if only a few stragglers stop in to read my posts, I am learning things as I do my research and writing, and several times I’ve been able to provide additional education to my patients, coworkers, and student nurses. So this has been a bright spot for me.
With fiction however, what’s happened more this year is that feeling that “it doesn’t matter.” When there are such grave concerns going on personally or in the world–between the pandemic and people out of work and political messes and civil unrest, working on my story about a teenage actress who secretly hires a stunt double to do her kissing scene doesn’t seem relevant anymore. Writing about anything that touches the serious issues scares the crap out of me. I can’t even write a black or brown character into my stories without feeling like I’m going to be scrutinized and criticized for anything I make them say or do. Actually, I could probably get criticized for worrying about criticism. So what usually happens is . . . I don’t write. I give in to the fear. Then focus on the dishes.
But . . .
I do love buts 😉
But, we are getting to that brilliant time of year when we get to make New Year’s plans and resolutions, reshaping our goals and hoping for a better year. Dear Lord, next year needs to be better. And maybe, just maybe there will be something besides EKGs and dementia and anticholinergic medications to write about. Perhaps something magical will happen in 2021.
What about you, readers? Are you ready for a new year?
Emily K. Martin 