The hits keep on coming, don’t they? Nonstop, day after day, hour after hour. I want to believe The Bad Place is confined to 365 days, to this helluva year, to 2020. I want to believe we only have halfway to go and we’ll come out on the other side somewhat stronger, more resilient and wiser. But if this year so far has taught me anything at all, it’s that measurements of time feel meaningless with no real deadline in sight. I’m instead holding onto the fleeting warmth of the sun’s rays, trying to stick to any frayed ends of optimism and conjure up some hidden powers to get through the next few months, which will require some serious buckling down.
A weekend ago, I received a scholarship to attend a book proposal workshop with Esmé Weijun Wang that left me unexpectedly reinvigorated, in tandem with fellow pandemic writers. On Friday, I had a call with a prospective literary agent about a potential project. Over the past few weeks, I’ve written 3-4 published pieces and signed three new clients. The rhythm is there. Fluctuating dramatically, but still very much there. I’ve been proud of the writing I’ve done, but I can tell there’s much more to excavate, that there has still been more neglect than not.
Neglect looks a lot like making excuses for the weather in my book. The sun hasn’t risen in days, the rain is still pouring, the sky is still falling, the smoke hasn’t cleared miles away, so how can I move a muscle? How do I lift these heavy eyelids when my plants are wilting? I worry for the sun-less, grey-sky mornings ahead as the seasons change, and what the shorter days might mean for my writing habits.
Perhaps I’ll have to learn to love the night-write again.
—fiza
A big hug to supporters Cary Adamms, Sam Kruger, Arielle Lewitt and Salima Makhani.
p.s. I vowed to step away from the news cycle last night after the announcement of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death because the negativity, however valid, was eating away at me. Returned this morning to find Rebecca Traister’s piece in The Cut, which I highly recommend.
“This is what happens when the government fails, when the safety nets that have been slashed for years are gone, when there is no oversight, no one in power with the drive or backbone to fight back or organize effectively or exert authority or offer real structural support or direction. In an absence of leadership, of functional guidance, we’re all left to imagine that the decisions of other individuals are what is going to save or damn us.”