Tag: Reflections from Ann S. Epstein Writer

“There is a myth about the redistribution of time during the pandemic, that we have fewer interruptions. I’ve experienced the opposite” (artist Anicka Yi). Neither is true for me. I attend the same number of in-person meetings and coffee dates, only now they happen on Zoom. While it’s true that I go to the market less often and buy things online rather than in-store, I was never much of a shopper to begin with. What has changed is how I feel about uninterrupted time spent alone. As a writer, I’ve always treasured it. I still do, but after a year of solitary routines, I’d (sort of) welcome more in-person social “disruptions.” Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

“I switched to watching murder documentaries [during the pandemic]. When the world is grim like that, you look for something that is even worse” (actor and writer Sharon Horgan). Unlike Horgan, knowing that others are suffering doesn’t make me feel better. I just feel bad for them too. So, my (minimal) viewing habits and wide-ranging reading choices haven’t changed. Nor has my writing. The difference is that my level of interest and emotion has intensified. Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

“2020 was the year I finally got my wish, to be really bored of the monotony of one day bleeding into the next” (artist Anicka Yi). I neither am, nor wish to be, bored. A new day of writing always awaits and I never know where it will take me. However, months into the lockdown, I suffered inertia, spending scarce reserves of energy to do something as simple as peeling an orange. Pandemic anxiety is debilitating. Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

Asked by The New York Times what she had made during the pandemic year, actor and writer Sharon Horgan replied, “I wrote tons. I hope that’s not a smug answer. It was like work or be damned.” The lockdown may intensify that feeling, but for me, and I suspect most writers, writing versus damnation are the ordinary poles of non-pandemic life. A day without writing, or comparable creative activity, is a woebegone day! Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

“I’m getting stressed imagining the world opening up. If I have a creative epiphany before then, it would make me feel like this time is done” (musician Phoebe Bridgers). I too am both anxious and eager contemplating a return to normal social interaction. I don’t need an epiphany, but I need reassurance that my creativity as a writer during the pandemic will continue after restrictions ease. Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

Asked by The New York Times what they’ve accomplished during the pandemic, creative people offer opposing responses. “I have never gotten so much work done! There are so few distractions or interruptions. Even if you choose to do nothing, you can do it with intensity” (Sheila Hicks, fiber artist). “I’ve made nothing. Creatively, I’m lost. It’s why I’m doing this interview. I’m guessing some other artists identify” (Tracy Letts, playwright). I’m with Hicks. Not because I have more time to fill, but because writing offers solace. I immerse myself in my characters who, while coping with other problems, are decidedly not living through this pandemic. Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

“(Our) bad idea in the pandemic was finishing our daily dance regimen jeté-ing and tumbling down the promenade in Riverside Park. It was a total blast — until it gave us really bad shin splints” (Choreographer Justin Peck, The New York Times). Shin splints are caused by prolonged running, typically on hard surfaces. I wondered if there was a writer’s equivalent and concluded that it’s overexplaining, telling the reader what you’ve already shown. The cure for physical and literary shin splints? Give it a rest! Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

“[During the pandemic] my older themes have been coming back into my work” (artist Eddie Martinez, The New York Times). That’s not true for me as a writer. However, I’ve always been drawn to writing about the elderly, due in part to growing up with my grandmother and also working as a Junior Red Cross volunteer at a “home for the aged and infirm” in high school. This year’s losses from COVID-19 have spurred reflections on aging and mortality. I started a new novel set in an old age home in the 1960s. Although the idea has been percolating for a while, I believe the pandemic made me choose to write this book now. Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

“When time becomes hazy and slippery, [our] focus is scattered. After a while, you gain a little clarity. Quarantine becomes a microcosm of life itself: When you come to the end of it, what would you like to be able to say you’ve done? Doing something is better than doing nothing. And a tiny bit a day, I began to write” (novelist Carolyn Parkhurst). My chronology has been the reverse. The longer the pandemic drags on, the more ambiguous the endpoint, the more effort it takes to keep going. But, because I’m a worker by nature, I continue to write every day, and the energy is self-sustaining. Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.

“I’ll write to you. A super-long letter, like in an old-fashioned novel” (Haruki Murakami, After Dark). United States Postal Service (USPS) reports that two-thirds of survey respondents say exchanging snail mail letters during the pandemic lifts their spirits. Although electronic communication is faster, the slowness of letter writing makes it more reflective and purposeful. USPS is of course promoting its paid services, but their snail mail advice is nevertheless valid. As a writer, I compose email letters as slowly and thoughtfully as my snail mail letters in pre-internet days. Perhaps more so, because I can revise email letters before hitting “Send,” just as I revise manuscripts before I click “Submit.” Long-form letter writing is an art worth preserving, a form of epistolary literature. Read more of my thoughts about writing at REFLECTIONS.