Coping in Covid: A Writer's Journal

So I am certainly pulling back from the constant stimulus and boosting and chatter of social media, sticking to the more navigable rivers of Instagram and sometimes Twitter. With so much to do lately, I am finding the continual patter on social media just too much to absorb, from people's meals to their latest daily details to boosting, boosting, boosting, to wider updates about the pandemic and publishing. I think I need some good focus right now and the only stimulation I need is time for introspection and inspiration. I will say though, that I remain quite culpable of checking for certain photos on social media, and can you blame me? Some of the recent shots of the full moon and sunset sky are gob-smackingly beautiful, taken with a sharp and thoughtful eye with vibrant colours that inspire hope. They will do just fine.

I finished my share of the taxes (late filing!) while simultaneously receiving a short-story rejection for a piece about a young, struggling bi warlock that I am quite fond of (both piece and mage). Enough stimlus!  I am avoiding social-media stimulation.  Just too much. Don't know how avid users stay wired in, even with pretty colours and dopamine hits. My dopamine hits require a little, shall we say, stronger stuff. Hope everyone is doing alright, both naughty and nice. They deserve headspace, too.

Hard week ending, luckily, with calling a pharmacy and, on the fourth try, booking a vaccination shot for May 3. Rough conclusion to a stress-laden week in the pandemic. I had us on a waiting list (all nearby pharmacies being booked solid to administer the vaccine). Then a social-media friend responded to my partner's incredulity at seemingly everyone we knew getting a vaccination shot, as my partner's anxiety increased. I feel I wasn't doing enough as things kept shifting. Generally, I am feeling like I am not doing the best for everyone, including my niece turning eighteen this week. But the week is over and, as the verse goes, the moon be still as bright. And there's hope in that glow, splintering through the tree branches.

Just a dreary energy day, where I had nothing left after mid-morning and despite any napping, still or nothing left in the tank for the remainder of the day. Echoes of troubles in the house from anxiety, depression, panic, all rolling back from the previous week and weekend, I suppose.  Suffice to say that this pandemic is taking its toll on me, despite trying to stay in touch with my inner circle via email, phone calls and texting. Still working steadily through revising my horror novel. Just generally anxious about getting groceries, getting organized, getting on with things.  Had a flirty-flirt thing with someone and realized that back when we were getting together, they were a regular smoker. I  recalled, when we last met, that I couldn't help but wonder what kissing them would be like now. That said, this person is wiser than me and pulled away when I demonstrated my curiosity. So - I was well-behaved, but not due to my comportment particularly, admittedly. I guess I admire he

Just received an audio file of a recently accepted short story. I don't usually like hearing my own voice, even in interviews, but hearing someone else read my work is a decidedly different experience and a surreal feeling, to say the least. Firstly, I am filled with gratitude. But I am almost afraid of listening it through to completion as it sounds so polished and enunciated and professional that it sounds like the words are from another dimension, another writer. Wait! Is this impostor syndrome sneaking through the back door?

Have I overbaked my use of social media even while trying to be circumspect with my use of it? If so, I have only myself to blame. My workday routine is back, although longer stretches of tasks are certainly not consistent. Back on horror novel revisions, with a fervent hope, hell-bent in finishing by early summer. Editng clients enough for April. Admittedly, I am dustracted by someone I care about, even if I cannot reach them directly, which we both sense would be perhaps unwise, if not an outright disaster.  Still, I try to reconcile past friendship, and much, much more, with dalliance, and who we are now. I feel a need to apologize, the reasons for which remain muddled. Much to ponder, I see, in my tangled web, under moonglow or not.  Time to dream well and dream deep, perhaps finding the answers that I seek. I hope others do the same.