Notes from a Hired Pen: The Wall

Ladies & Gents:

Well, we're now how many days into the pandemic, and I've hit a wall. I just don't want to work anymore. I don't want to write new copy, I don't want to hunt down sources, I don't want to go through edits, I don't want to talk to anyone. And I certainly don't want to pitch anything because I have no ideas to pitch. It doesn't help there's a bunch of noise in the background of my brain: the terse letter from a vendor who doesn't want to give me a refund for a cancelled trip, plus a $4,000 medical bill. And pictures of people giving the finger to COVID-19 by hanging out in clumps (not that the virus cares – it welcomes these things) are distressing. I want to lie on my couch, with my dog, and read a book until this is all over (in a cone of silence that cannot be punctured by screaming kids, leaf blowers or my neighbor's really annoying, ongoing home improvement project my GOD I want you all to go back to work!)

Of course, this isn't possible. If I don't work, I don't get paid (and that medical bill! Yes I am going to fight it). And if I don't get paid, then I will have to move out of this rather lovely home I have called my own for nearly two years. I know I have to work when I feel like this, and there's a few things I do to get myself going:

1. Make a to-do list. I do this every workday already, but when I'm feeling really floppy, I put every tiny little thing on the list. Sometimes I'll do something, write it on the list, then immediately cross it off. 

2. Move some things around. Not everything, but I might slide some tasks back and yes sit on my couch and read a book for an hour or two instead. For example, I had a story due on Friday and I told myself I was going to write it Friday afternoon – the Friday of a holiday weekend. But my editor said she wouldn't look at it until this week, so why would I rush to finish something that would sit unread in an inbox? I wrote it this morning.

3. Think of past wins. I recently wrote something that a lot of people liked, and when I am feeling blue about whatever I am working on, I remember responses to stuff like that. Also, earlier this spring, I went to battle with my insurance company over bills they said I owed, which I did not. I saved myself $700, which bodes well for my ability to get this bill knocked down too. 

4. Do something else. Like write this newsletter! I also picked at an essay I hope to sell this summer. It's not very good in its current form, but that's the beauty of editing: I can make it shine on re-write (it's about how camping is not glamorous, editors, if you want to get at me). I also followed up on a late payment, and asked my editor why payments have been slower than usual. It's not writing, but it's important work that must be done. 

5. Take time off. Yes, even when I don't feel comfortable traveling anywhere, I am going to take a few days off. But not until next month, because I need to plan ahead in order to disappear from work for a few days. I can't just leave editors in a lurch. But knowing I will have those days to myself in the near future helps me right now.

Is this a bleak newsletter? Maybe. But I'm feeling rather bleak. I share these things becasuse it's normal. We can't be perfect freelancers all the time, especially when we're also being ground down by the stress of living through a global pandemic. It's OK to not be OK. And to talk about it too.

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"Cross-border fleets grapple with downshift in US-Mexico activity" for Transport Dive 

What I'm Reading
The Paragon Hotel by Lyndsay Faye. I thought it was okay. Just okay.

What I'm Watching