A writer's life during the pandemic crisis...

Dear Friends,

Do we all have a picture of ourselves in a mask by now?

We make one and then check out what we look like in this new reality. Mine is made from pieces of my son's old flannel pyjamas and hair bands, it's totally serviceable and reasonably comfortable.

Here's the link to how to make this simple no-sew mask: No Sew Pleated Face Mask

So here we are, facing months of isolation and mask-wearing and how, really HOW, are we all doing with this? I'm not a therapist, and I can't tell anyone how to cope, only that I hope you ARE coping, however that looks for you.

Here's what I've been doing most days:

1. Sleep. I've watched the moon cross the Toronto skyline from my porch at 2 a.m. I've also slept in until past 11:00 a.m. and napped on and off. I'm not really a night owl, a napper or a particulary late sleeper. But right now, sleep comes and goes and I just accept it.

Author and her husband on the street,
photo by daughter at 6 feet away ...

2. Stretch. When I do get up (!), I start most days with a gentle tai chi or yoga stretch in a sunny part of the house, for me that's the kitchen. I usually have a coffee and music going too. I face the window, look at trees, breathe, stretch, but mostly breathe.

3. Watch. The back of my house faces an alley, and there's a lot going on back there. Families out riding bikes, older folks going for brisk walks, people washing their cars, kids playing road hockey, cats slinking around. Lots to see actually, if I just slow down and watch.

4. Create. I've finished writing a sequel to OCULUM, and now I'm editing a book coming out next fall (more about Firefly here). The safest place for me has always been in my head, frankly. I hope you have a safe creative space too, whatever that might be.

Making puzzles, reading, making music, writing, working with food or paint or dance or whatever it is you do or would like to try.  For me, creating really is a way to beat back the fear, the aloneness, the anxiety of not knowing what's going to happen. When I create something, I'm completely in control of it and the world, at least for a little while. I hope you find a creative outlet that helps you feel in control of something.

5. Music. I play guitar and piano. I've had people gift me classical guitar music books for most of my life, so I'm slowly reading through new music. It's completely absorbing to try to learn something new. Here's more about my musical life on this blog if you'd like to listen free: Philippa's Music

The last time I was out in public at a conference,
(Feb 2020) and met a friend who wanted a picture

6. Visit with creators. I've looked at paintings online, listened to music, and spent my fair share of time watching Netflix, of course. I've decided not to worry about the quantity or quality either. There's lots of letting go right now. I've also found podcasts and stories I've liked, as you have too no doubt.

Here's something I really enjoyed, listening to Stephen King: Stephen King is Sorry you Feel like you're stuck in a Stephen King Novel

I like writer and pundit Chuck Wendig, who's been writing about being a writer during COVID. All of his posts are interesting but start here if you like: Being Broken In Half (but wanting to be whole)

7. Read. This is of course, a given! Again, I haven't worried too much about the quality or quantity, but for the record, my quarantine reading so far: Battle Royale (Koushun Takami), The Tartar Steppe (Dino Buzzatti), Love in the Time of Cholera (GG Marquez), Drawdown: The Most Comprehensive Plan Ever Proposed to Reverse Global Warming (Paul Hawken). 

I've also read several of the Silver Birch books nominated with OCULUM this year. I've got one more to go, then I've read all ten books, they've been fun to read. Sadly, we won't be doing the Forest of Trees this year, I was looking forward to meeting all the writers and the kids. Tough one to miss out on, but we gotta go forward.
There will be some online celebration though, so stay tuned for more on that.

8. Do nothing. Sometimes, you just have to do nothing. It's not actively doing nothing, it's just a moment where you catch yourself actually doing nothing. I think that's something we used to do a lot as kids, and frankly it was okay to do nothing. It's when we daydream, or at least I do. It's when we accept we can't change the big things, but just have to sit with ... nothing in particular. And it's really okay to do nothing.

9. Friends. Ya, I've connected with friends in all the ways we do right now. Zoom, sure, and facebook and instagram and messaging and groups of us meeting on whatsapp and so on. But we all know it's a pale imitation of real life. I've written poems lately about how much I want to hug someone, anyone, and run my filthy, unwashed hands across their beautiful cheek. I wonder if that will ever happen again with the same freedom we once had? I realize that I've never actually run an unwashed hand across anyone's face ... but suddenly it seems sad that I haven't.

Zoom guitar party, fun but hard to be apart

10. Family. My kids are both on their own right now, in apartments in different cities, trying to finish their university year however they can. Online exams are the new normal. I can't even express how much I miss them, but it occured to me yesterday it could be a LONG time before I can hold them again; September, December, next spring?

The last photo I have
of me hugging my kid!

If you're with your loved ones, please hug them for me.



Until we're all running our unwashed hands over each others cheeks once again ... be well. Please. Read, write, sleep, do puzzles, dance, sing, cry, hug each other, watch too much terrible television ... whatever it is you need to do to get through, I'm doing it too.

PD

More Pandemic Posts on this Blog
Oddly this isn't the first time I've been quarantined in my life. Read here for a post about my Brush with Mortality ... and Measles

Writing in the time of Coronavirus

Dear Friends,

It's March 2020, and the world is in the grip of a pandemic. No one alive today has been through anything like this, the last similar virus was in 1918, over 100 years ago.

So we're all watching the news, reading the reports, trying to stay calm in the face of the worst kind of news imaginable: this virus is a super-spreader, it kills somewhere between 2% and 6% of those infected, older people aged 60 and up are more likely to develop serious illness and die. If there is any good news, children are largely unaffected, but remain a reservoir of disease, so should avoid older people.

In Canada, and in Toronto where I live, we've all been asked to self-isolate for two weeks, even though the numbers of infections in Canada remain low at least for now, at under 200 confirmed cases and one death in B.C. (a man in his 80s) as of today. Schools are now closed, large gatherings, conferences, sports events, libraries, and much more are closed down. We are living in our homes, hoping we have enough frozen vegetables to last the storm which authorities assure us is about to come.

We believe them. Just look at poor Italy, South Korea, and China. It's coming, all we can do is hold on. The idea now is to "flatten the curve" of infection by self-isolating, so hospitals don't become overwhelmed with the sick.

I lived in Toronto when SARS came through and claimed 44 lives in 2003, but this is much worse. It's worse because it is ALL of us. Everywhere.

Oh Earth, what have we done to ourselves?

As a writer, my job is to look around me and make predictions about what I see. In 2015, five years ago, I started writing a dystopia for children, ages 10 and up. I wanted to tell a story about love, and equity, and also about the collapse of our society through environmental crisis, loss of bees, and yes ... pandemic.

My book is OCULUM (2018, DCB), which has been nominated for two awards (thank you SYRCA and OLA) and has been optioned for television and audio-book. In this story, two separate groups of kids interact 80 years after the collapse of society. They either live a comfortable life inside a domed, dystopian world with robots and peaches, or they live a hardscrabble existence outside the dome in the rubble of the cities.

This may seem gloomy for children, but the main message of my book is one of hope and love. The story is a very loose echo of Shakespeare's Tempest, which is ultimately, a story of love and community.

OCULUM is a story about how we have each other, and we are better together, no matter what happens. The final words of the book come from one of the first-person narrators, Mannfred (Mann for short). He is dreaming about the orchards he is going to plant once he gets to the farm.

He says, "It'll take a long time, my whole life and then some, but I got only one wish: one day, when I'm a man, me and my friends, my family, everybody there is, will pick peaches big as barrels, sweet as honey, from trees tall as the sky."

That's my wish for all of us today and in the weeks to come: that we may plant, grow, and enjoy the bounty of this amazing planet together again one day soon.

In the meantime, I'll be reading, writing, and thinking about spring. Hold fast everyone, hold each other, just hold on.

With love for all of you,

PD

More about OCULUM
FREE Teacher's Guide for OCULUM
Goodreads Reviews
More about Oculum on this blog