Writing in the Time of Corona

Source

Social-distancing. Self-isolation. Stay at home. Lockdown. Shelter in place. Working from home. These have been my catchphrases for half a year, albeit unknowingly and under different circumstances. Writing my next novel has taken up all of my waking, non-family hours. I’ve been plugging away towards an April 1st rough draft deadline, striving for a summer release date. I’ve barely had time to socialize with friends–or to be out and about–so the directives from the World Health Organization to flatten the coronavirus curve were easy for me to implement. I prefer to work at home, close to my research material, and don’t want to lose precious time getting properly dressed and leaving the house. I work best when I can totally immerse myself in my fictional universe.

Writing is my creative outlet; it gives me joy, focus, and structure, but what happens when you do it in the shadow of a pandemic? When Shakespeare was in quarantine from the plague in 1606, he wrote King Lear. My concentration, however, has been shattered, torn between wanting to conduct business as usual and keeping abreast of the latest developments. Rather than writing full-time, a big chunk of my day is spent following the latest information on the virus’s trajectory and consuming news reports about patients, government policy, the healthcare challenges, and economic fallout. CNN is usually on in the background; the reporters’ solemn, sincere voices have become my soundtrack throughout this pandemic.

In order to ease my anxiety and get into work mode, I take occasional news breaks. Even so, reality doesn’t disappear. I may write a paragraph or two and then forget, for a split second, that we’re in dire straits, but then I come out of my writing bubble and it hits me again. I’ve asked myself repeatedly: What’s the point of what I’m writing? Does it matter in these apocalyptic times? When life and death hang in the balance? With economies and livelihoods on the brink of collapse? Sticking to a schedule, planning for a summer release–is that realistic or feasible?

Like everything else, the book world has been turned upside down. A number of writers have had their publication dates delayed or book tours canceled. Writing a book can be a lonely undertaking; doing events and meeting readers are among the most rewarding parts of the job. Luckily, the literary community has found alternative approaches to promote their work and connect with the public. Books have remained an essential part of my life during this crisis. I take reading breaks to escape, to be inspired by another writer’s inventiveness, and to marvel at their flair for words. I also support new releases by downloading them on my Kindle. Although I’ve avoided pandemic fiction–too close to home–I admire the research and imagination that went into conceiving them. These are the books currently in my Kindle library: The Glass Hotel; In Five Years; The Herd; My Dark Vanessa; Followers; Smacked; Oona Out of Order; and These Ghosts Are Family. My husband and I binge-watched Netflix’s adaptation of Harlen Coben’s The Stranger and it was a thrilling diversion. Listening to literary podcasts like Zibby Owen’s Mom’s Don’t Have Time to Read Books and buying online from independent bookstores are additional ways to support writers and the industry.

I’m acutely aware that I’m in a fortunate position where I can stay home and still manage my life under stricter guidelines. Many do not have that possibility. Coronavirus victims and caregivers are constantly on my mind. I don’t bemoan changed plans or canceled trips. These are small “sacrifices” for the greater good of public health and safety. My gratitude to the frontline professionals and first responders in healthcare, food retail, pharmacies, and other essential services is immense. I feel healthy right now but COVID-19 is a silent predator. If afflicted, I don’t want to inadvertently infect others or become a burden on hospitals at the expense of other vulnerable individuals. Out of social responsibility and solidarity, I stay home and write.

The coronavirus forced me to change a crucial element in my new book. The story was supposed to take place during the summer of 2020, the first one of the new decade. I loved the sound and symmetry of it and imagined warm, sunlit days to contrast with my characters’ inner turmoil. Yet as this pandemic progressed, I realized it would be unrealistic to ignore its presence given that every aspect of our lives has been affected thus far. But it also felt opportunistic to insert an unfolding, unresolved crisis for the sake of historical accuracy. For this reason, I restructured the narrative timeframe to 2019.

Who knows where we’ll be this summer? But I’ll keep writing and, hopefully, I’ll finish and release my new novel, humbly offering to others the distraction that has sustained me these last few months.

On My Mind…

Source

Greetings from the Swiss Alps! I’ve spent the last week skiing with family and friends for the annual Swedish Winter Sports Break. Snow has been falling heavily for the past few days and visibility is poor. My husband and son can handle those challenging conditions, but I prefer to stay inside by the fire with a mug of hot chocolate and a book. I’m currently engrossed in Real Life by Brandon Taylor, a debut novel that has received much praise.

Regarding my own book project, I’m halfway-done to a finished first draft. Although I felt guilty putting the manuscript aside this week, the invigorating mountain air and expansive views have stimulated many ideas and I can’t wait to pick up where I left off when I get back to Stockholm. March will be an intensive writing month since I have an April 1st deadline for submission to a developmental editor. As an indie author, it’s particularly important to ensure that the plot makes sense, the characters are well-developed, and the grammar and spelling are correct.

However, as much as I’ve been trying to stay laser-focused on my writing, it’s been impossible to ignore the recent controversy embroiling the literary world. It centers around a novel released last month, American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins, the story of a Mexican mother and her son whose family has been massacred by a drug cartel. They are forced to flee, instantly becoming migrants, and embark on a precarious journey north to the American border. It was chosen as an Oprah’s Book Club pick, sparking controversy over the exploitation of migrant stories by non-Mexican and non-migrant writers. In addition, American Dirt has drawn attention to the lack of racial diversity in the publishing industry, along with issues of representation surrounding the books that get published and marketed.

I have not read American Dirt and will not delve into that specific debate, but it did make me think about my own publishing journey and the difficulty I had attracting agents and publishers for my first novel, Uptown & Down.  One the one hand, some said they couldn’t envision a broad audience for the story while others told me it wasn’t “black enough.” You can only imagine my confusion! Thankfully, I found one agent willing to take a chance on the story and she, in turn, found an editor at Penguin/NAL who “got it.” I will always be grateful to both of them. Ten years later, I experienced many of the same issues with Lagging Indicators and that frustration led me to publish independently.

Cummins’s novel has also renewed the discussion about cultural appropriation and writing outside of your race, culture or experiences. I passionately oppose limiting the world or characters a writer can imagine. Of course, if we go outside of ourselves, we should do our homework and approach it with sensitivity, but self-censoring our imagination is a dangerous proposition creatively. My novels have always contained a diverse cast of characters, both for depth and to reflect the multicultural world we live in.

Which brings me to my new book, a mother/daughter story set in the Swedish archipelago. The narrative is told from two points of view and my main characters are a white Swedish mother and her bi-racial daughter. I am neither–does that mean I don’t have the right to write from their perspectives? Should I scrap this story because I might open myself up to criticism? Although I feel I can justify my creative choices based on my years living among Swedes, I’m still very much aware that I’m writing outside my cultural and racial identity. But when crafting the characters of Linn and her daughter Zoë, I’ve tried to inhabit their emotions, inner conflicts, and motivations, hoping our outward differences will transform into something more universal. To be continued…

REFLECTING ON THE 2000s

Source

I remember ringing in the new millennium at a private, black-tie party in Gamla Stan, the old town section of Stockholm. Our friend had booked a space with a prime view of Skeppsbron, the waterfront boulevard, and we feasted on caviar, lobster and filet mignon, tallying the minutes until 2000, and watching the Swedish rock band, Europe, sing their signature hit, “The Final Countdown,” across the water. I had gotten married six weeks earlier, so the 21st Century—a mythical denomination that had long captured the popular imagination—felt like a new beginning for me too. The conversation that New Year’s Eve centered on the Y2K bug projected to wreak havoc on global computers. Would the apocalypse come when the clock struck midnight? Luckily, we were spared, but the world awaiting us would scarcely resemble the one we had grown up in.

Personally speaking, the 2000s brought infinite blessings and great joy: the birth of my daughter (2001), the arrival of my son (2004), and the publication of my first novel, Uptown & Down (2005). However, it also carried immense tragedy and sorrow: the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, and the death of my beloved mother in 2004. When I look back at that first decade, it passed by in a bit of a blur as I juggled family life with my writing aspirations. However, the candidacy of Barack Obama energized me, rekindling my own political engagement, and I will always remember the night of November 4, 2008, when he was elected the 44th President of the United States.

After that historic event, defining moments seemed to happen at breakneck speed and reality became stranger than fiction, providing ripe material for storytelling. For example, the 2008 financial crisis inspired my second novel, Lagging Indicators. I spent a lot of free time in the 2010s wired to my phone or computer, checking in on news sites, social media, blogs and anything else that could inform and inspire. I think that’s been the biggest revelation for me these past twenty years: how technology has infiltrated our everyday lives and enabled us to stay connected in real-time. I love the convenience of smartphones, Google and Uber but there are pitfalls to always being “logged on.” The constant distractions, increased anxiety, and rise of a toxic internet culture have overshadowed many of the benefits technology promised. The 2020s may finally be the time for us to get off the grid and fully experience being “in the moment.”

I feel as though I’m at another crossroad–not unlike the one at the turn of the century. Our growing children will eventually flee the nest, prompting me and my husband to contemplate the next phase of our lives. It will be a bittersweet transition, but rather than dwelling on how quickly the years have passed, I’m excited to see where the new road will take us.

My main emotion entering this new decade is one of gratitude—for family, friends, good health, readers, and the sense of perspective I have gained. I’m more grounded and “don’t sweat the small stuff” as much. I also have more clarity about what makes me happy and what I would like to achieve in life. The decision to become an indie author was an important step in my mid-life journey towards personal, creative and professional growth.

My goals for the 2020s are not as lofty as they might have been twenty years ago. I’ve witnessed how fragile life is, how quickly one’s situation can change, and how certain factors are simply beyond our control. I think this is a humbling and healthy realization. There’s no doubt we live in an uncertain, unpredictable age, yet I was encouraged by a recent Op-Ed piece Nicholas Kristof wrote in the New York Times. Kristof points out that while there are significant causes for alarm—and still much work to be done—humanity is at a better place now than ever before. With that in mind, I enter this new decade with hope; saying thank you for the years gone by and wishing you all a healthy, happy and peaceful New Year!