Writing as a Public Service
By JD Sullivan
During the early days of the quarantine, I kept silent when writer friends revealed they’d turned a viral lemon into a pool-sized vat of lemonade. Stuck at home, they wrote. Some, incessantly. They sold their books. They started new manuscripts. Some found agents. Bottom line, they adapted to the new restrictions, but still engaged their creativity and continued to succeed as writers.
I didn’t. When COVID hit, I couldn’t go near my writing, or even relax enough to read for fun. While many turned their anxiety into literary fuel, I fueled my anxiety with everything COVID. I became obsessed with the news. Ultimately, I created alerts from eight different sources and read their similar stories multiple times. I even set my browser default to the New York Times. At my core I believed my actions were a search for clarity. I wanted – I needed – facts. All the facts. I felt compelled to stand a vigilant watch, otherwise the virus could storm the gates. Of course, it did anyway.
According to a March 2020 article in The Washington Post, when Isaac Newton quarantined at home for a year during the 1665 Great Plague of London, he didn’t allow a similar event to wipe out his creativity. On the contrary, he discovered the Laws of Gravity, Optics, and just for grins, he invented early Calculus.
The showoff.
Me, I struggled with the question, was it right to “waste” free time on an activity as “frivolous” as writing fiction? When first responders worked eighty hours a week (and more), when their patients died in droves, and when doctors and nurses themselves perished while trying to save lives, wasn’t it disrespectful – maybe even heartless – to spend my time creating imaginary characters who fought fictional psychopaths? All the while, the world battled the equivalent of a virulent serial killer.
A close friend of mine suggested a possible flaw in my worries. She reminded me how people hadn’t lost interest in fiction due to the pandemic. Even as conferences and book events canceled or moved online, sales of novels (in some categories) remained constant or increased. We needed to immerse ourselves in stories. The made-up world provided an escape. Some people joked they’d finished watching Netflix – all of it – to pass the time.
Coping came in different shades during the quarantine. Some avoided reality, or in my case, overindulged in it. Some chose to self-medicate through food, alcohol, and drugs. I know there are healthy souls out there who dealt with the last year in a very healthy way. I’d like to meet them. I’d like to learn how that worked.
According to members in my critique group, I’m pretty good at writing scary psychopaths. I’ve been asked to warn them in advance, before introducing them to a crazy, bad dude on the written page. I asked a therapist friend what it means, that I can imagine people at their worst. Am I mentally ill, like my characters? What does this trait say about my stability? And why does anyone choose to read about or watch ghastly examples of humanity? She said that when we read or watch stories where heroes successfully conquer horrible villains, the experience gives us a personal sense of control. If the story is told well, we live emotionally through the satisfaction of overcoming the odds, of taking down an entity stronger and scarier than us. We feel more powerful, more in control, more prepared to battle our own villains.
I think she might be right, at least for me.
Along with my news obsession during the pandemic, I watched endless TV shows where heroes caught the psychopath; FBI, FBI Most Wanted, reruns of Criminal Minds. The outcome was usually clear from the beginning. Unless you’re watching Game of Thrones, the main characters mostly don’t die. They catch the bad guy or gal, even if it takes an extra episode or two. Their continued success feels reassuring and tells us it’s possible to slay our own problems – or survive those where we have no control. Looking at it this way, fiction might be seen as a tool for coping. Taken to the extreme, the act of creating fictional psychopaths might be seen as a public service.
Whether consuming fiction is about escape or becoming empowered, or both, I’ve come to accept that imaginary stories might help a reader deal with the psycho events of this world. And that well-written fiction can provide a positive break from reality, or become a story of empowerment and the inspiration to live in strength for another day.I’m sure my successful writer friends engaged in other coping mechanisms during the quarantine. Maybe Newton even consumed a few too many meat pies during his day. But the common thread is that we all coped. We quarantined. We were fortunate and we survived.
It’s a year later, and I’m vaccinated. I’ve finally rejoined my writer friends. I’m writing, reading, and honing my own literary skills. I’m also working on a story with an even creepier psychopath for my hero to conquer.
If you like these ideas and perspectives about how we cope, you might enjoy J.D.’s short story, I, Otherkin. Or more musings at JD-Sullivan.com