There are a lot of jokes out there right now like the cartoon in The New Yorker showing a young woman saying something like “I couldn’t decide whether to work on my novel or my screenplay, so instead I ate three bags of chips, then lay on the floor screaming.”
A whole lot of writers are feeling the same pain.
I had a meltdown myself last Sunday night after spending the weekend on my tax prep. It involved a glitchy TV remote, a number of obscenities, and a bag of peanut M&Ms.
I’ve been self-quarantined since February 8th when I came down with a respiratory virus that may or may not have been Covid-19. At the time, there was only one test in the entire county, which–needless to say–did not have my name on it. Now they have more, but not enough. The good news is Stanford has developed a new test that tells you if you had the virus after you’ve recovered. Governor Newsom says this will be available in California very soon, so I may be able to find out if I had it.
At the time I was going through it, I was sure that when I was over the fever, brain fog, and insane coughing, I’d jump back into my WIP and zoom that thing back on the road.
It hasn’t happened.