War in Europe.
But still - the dogs need to be walked. Dinner needs to be made, kids need to be picked up, and most importantly, work needs to be done. Which brings me to what I want to talk about - how to keep on being creative when the world around you is scary and stressful?
Let me be the first to say I’m able to keep a hold on my emotions in part because the Sailor finished his enlistment at the end of December, an event that now has him gnashing his teeth in frustration (because he’s a young man) but which is a GREAT relief to all the women who love him. However, even without skin in the game, so to speak, it’s hard to write during frightening times. Creating - whether in words, or paint, or movement - is an act that requires focus and a commitment to deep work. Creating requires the artist to be both vulnerable and open to their own emotions, while being closed off, at least temporarily, to outside pressures and feelings. It requires, bluntly, a sort of selfishness, which is hard enough in ordinary circumstances when you’ve got a husband who wants to talk or a kid who needs advice. When the circumstances are OHMYGODTHEWORLDISFALLINGAPART, it can seem extra selfish to climb into a temporary ivory tower to escape everything.
So Reds, how do you do it? How do you keep writing, keep creating in times of trouble and strife?
RHYS BOWEN: There is only one thing more frightening than the threat of WWIII and that is the word DEADLINE. With two and a half deadlines looming each year I know I have had to buckle down and work no matter what. But trying to stay fresh and creative when the head is pounding and there are knots in the stomach is not easy. I found the first months of Covid particularly hard, because it was a stress that touched me personally: would I touch the wrong surface? Wear the wrong mask?
Writing at that moment was a saving grace because I was writing THE VENICE SKETCHBOOK and I could spend my days in Venice, at least in my head. I’d pour over my photos, my maps, and find myself smiling: oh, that was where we had that glass of Prosecco and a man sang opera as he walked past. Oh, that was the best frito misto… reliving happy times is a great stress-buster, I’ve found.
Clare is right–we can do nothing about Ukraine, so it’s a waste of energy to worry about it. We can pray for the people and a peaceful outcome and then let it go.
Although learning to let go is hard, isn’t it?
JENN McKINLAY: I’m a compartmentalizer. Is that a word? The red squiggle didn’t show up, so I’ll assume it is. So much has happened over the past few years on the global, national, and personal fronts that there are days where it feels like I need to pencil in “breathe”. Fortunately, having grown up in a rather turbulent home, I am very good at slamming the lid and turning the key on turmoil so that I can function.
My trick is to set time limits. Need to cry? I set the clock on my phone for fifteen minutes and wallow in a weepfest. Compelled to look at the news? Same thing. Set the clock for ten minutes, read the news and get back to work. If I didn’t set limits, I would get sucked into the quicksand of despair and never crawl out.
LUCY BURDETTE: Jenn, that’s very wise and a perfectly good idea that I will borrow. I remember those first weeks of the pandemic so well–we were in such a panic and such disbelief. After writing nothing for a month, I had a stern talk with myself. I could either let this event ruin my life as I knew it, or I could get to work. Which I did. (Though I sure wish I’d written something like Kim Fay’s LOVE AND SAFFRON.)
Between the war news and the politics and the particularly horrid decisions that are happening in Florida, it would be quite possible to lose my mind. I’m trying to treat all that the same way–do what I can to let leaders know what i think, and otherwise, stick to my lane.
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: At the first of the pandemic, I was a mess. I could not write, and kept thinking–I have to watch the NEWS! I have to buy aluminum foil! (or whatever.) But I remember, very clearly, thinking: I chose to be a writer, a writer of suspenseful entertaining immersive stories, and if we don’t need those now, when do we need them? And I have a very clear memory of thinking ”It’s always safe inside a book.” And “It’s always safe inside my manuscript.” And that has been my mantra ever since. It’s a respite and a comfort. To be in a completely different world facing someone else’s problems.
And I turn off CNN. I say to Jonathan--no more death news. One hour, then change the channel or do something else. There’s no need to fill our heads with it every second. We can be interested, and engaged, and aware, and we can truly care, but we don’t need to be constantly pummeled with repetition and speculation.
HALLIE EPHRON: I can barely write on a good-news day. If I try to follow the news I am overwhelmed by how powerless we all are to make even the slightest difference. Haven’t felt anything quite like this since the 60’s. I’m just grateful that the US is not the aggressor, and that it’s not my job to figure out what happens next. It’s so much easier when you’re plotting fiction.
DEBORAH CROMBIE: I was so horribly distracted the first year, and more, of the pandemic, that I just could not write. Which is how I’ve ended up in my way-past-deadline panic. I finally got to the point where I can’t wait to be in my story, and I can’t let anything take away my focus. So I can read the headlines, but that’s about it. It makes me feel selfish, but me not finishing my book doesn’t do anything for the international mess. And finishing it might actually give other people a welcome escape when THEY are feeling overwhelmed.
But it doesn’t help that Rick is following the news 24/7…
JULIA: I really like Jenn's approach - set the timer, feel the emotion (or doomscroll through Twitter, and then when the alarm dings, back to work. How about you, dear readers? How do you manage, and stay creative, when the world feels like it might crack under pressure?
