Time has simultaneously slowed down and sped up. Since the beginning of the pandemic I'm not sure which month/day/year it is. Like many of my writer friends, the semi isolation has affected my productivity. For months I couldn't write, and was unable to finish an almost complete novel draft.

Yet I began and finished another, and have recently stepped into screenwriting.

Writing scripts is like learning a new language. The format (grammar) is unfamiliar, and the story must be told with a viewer rather than a reader in mind. 

So this is my excuse for ignoring my blog. Here's a recent photo of Pablo. 

 

Happy Writing.

Hello to those of you who follow my semi-forgotten blog.

I've been busy writing a monthly column for My Edmonds News called The Writer's Desk, in addition to working on a novel, and being president of EPIC Group Writers.  The latter involves lots of Zoom meetings and booking workshops. 

It's been a weird two years. Let's hope 2022 proves to be more normal, or at least less stressful than this new normal.

Happy Holidays!

and

Happy Writing.

Almost Normal

It’s been more than a year since I visited Third Place Books in person. Over the past few months, I’ve ordered online and had books mailed to me. But after attending a webinar yesterday with Lisa Cron about her new book, Story or Die, I ordered a copy. Instead of opting to have it snail mailed, I clicked on ‘pick up at store.'

For the occasion of venturing to the bookstore, I dressed more carefully than I had in months, choosing my favorite jeans, an olive-green sweater, a necklace and a bracelet. The morning was bright and sunny, which I took as a good omen.

Entering the freeway felt like a strange city, partly because of construction of the light rail which blocked the right lane, and partly because this is only my second trip on I-5 since the pandemic broke out. I hadn’t forgotten how to merge with the thick swell of cars and trucks, all moving far below the 60 MPH speed limit. The addition of rail lines and concrete barriers has changed the landscape, but the heavy Seattle traffic remains the same.

After I exited on Ballenger Way, I passed several office buildings bearing ‘For Lease. Signs. The Mexican restaurant is still there, likely surviving on carry-out orders by a loyal clientele. As I drove east, the familiar canopy of trees cast blinking shadows in and out of the sunlight. It had been more than a year, yet I still recalled how to get to the store. The parking lot was nearly vacant, and after I parked, I double glanced at the shop to ensure I was open.

The first change since I was last here were the signs on the two double door entries.  Inside the building the next change I noted was there was no line at the adjoining cafe.

Clearly marked exit and entry only with reminders for customers they must wear masks and maintain social distances. The entrance side is blocked off with crime tape and the signs with arrows lead to the information desk. An individual stood at the entry and asked my business. I could have taken my prepaid book and left, but since the store was empty, and I’d already fulfilled a couple of hours early morning writing, I decided to use the allotted 30-minute time limit to browse.

Where once there stood leather and wooden chairs throughout the store where one could sit and skim through a stack of books is now open space. 

The staff is enthusiastic and industrious, filling shelves and moving displays, and the selection of books, cards, and other goods remains abundant, but the shopping experience definitely felt altered. One of the things I’ve missed most since the pandemic outbreak is browsing the shelves at libraries and bookstores. Where I once may have spent two hours (and much more money) wandering through the aisles, I’m grateful to have the option for this in-person visit. The short visit to familiar territory made life feel more like normal and less like science fiction.

How are you emerging back to nearly normal?

Still Writing After All These Years

It's been nearly a year since the world literally closed its doors. Like most of you, I've learned to adapt, and each day provides a new challenge. One is that I haven't kept up with my blog. But here's a piece I wrote in November for Women Writers, Women's Books: Making it to the Finish Line

Happy Writing.

It's Not All Bad

Here's a blog post I forgot to post back on April. [It's now October. Things have not changed much except 211,000 have died from COVID. Politics has divided the country. Those of us with liberal leanings are in constant anxiety. Grocery prices are up, unemployment is rising, and businesses are closing daily, and my social life is almost entirely via ZOOM. But it' all good, right?]

If every country and city in the world weren't living this surreal existence, nobody would believe it.
Sequestered in our homes.

Reading
Many people are reading books again.

Unplugged
Because I'm home all day, like many people out there, I watch more daytime TV talk shows.

Kelly and Ryan, like the rest, now broadcast from their homes, and they're much less obnoxious.

THE VIEW As a group onstage The ladies of THE TALK. are still fun to watch
and talk over each other. But from home, the show is easier to watch. Whoopie and Sunny are still pleasant. Surprisingly, Meghan McCain is far less toxic , but Joy Behar, who I usually enjoy, is annoying.

Oddly, Ellen isn't as funny without an audience. She falls flat talking to just one guest at a time.

Live concerts from living rooms shows us who has talent. Without the flashy special effects, costumes, and electronic enhancement. It feels as if  Keith Urban is sitting in my living room playing a song just for me

Zoom once you get past the learning curve of navigating the platform, zoom meetings make life feel connected less lonely.
Facebook is marginal
Instragram has always been friendlier
Twitter is still a bitchfest


I haven't yet resorted to watching soap operas.


Happy Writing.

Quarantine Coping

It's been a month since, other than grocery and pharmacy clerks, I have socialized in person with anyone other than my cat. He only talks when he's hungry or he wants me to sit on the couch so he can lie in my lap. Otherwise he ignores me. He's a cat, so he's doing his job.

How am I coping? As best as I can.
In every country and city in the world we're all living this surreal existence, yet there are some things to enjoy about it.

Luckily I love to read, and I'm catching up on books I forgot I had. I've also downloaded a few audio books to listen to while I take a daily walk. Luckily the weather in Seattle has been unseasonably pleasant and sunny this week.

Cooking. I'm not a great cook, but I'm trying to make more than omelettes and oatmeal.

Live TV is truly live. .
Because I'm home all day, like many people out there, I watch more daytime TV talk shows, many newscasters and hosts now broadcast from their homes.  I enjoy peeking inside celebrities houses. It makes them more real, more accessible.

Kelly and Ryan they're much less obnoxious.

 As a group onstage together the hosts of THE VIEW tend to talk over each other. But from home, the show is easier to watch. Whoopie and Sunny are still pleasant. Surprisingly, Meghan McCain is far less toxic, but Joy Behar, who I usually enjoy, is annoying.

The ladies of THE TALK. are still fun to watch, but oddly, ELLEN isn't as funny without an audience. She falls flat talking to just one guest at a time.

Live concerts from musicians' living rooms demonstrates who has true talent without the flashy special effects, costumes, and electronic enhancement. The music is unplugged. Recently, watching Keith Urban from his home felt as if he was playing a song just for me.

Zoom once you get past the learning curve of navigating the platform, zoom meetings make life feel connected less lonely and prevents me from spending all day wearing pajamas.
Last night I attended a Zoom happy hour.  On Tuesday I taught a writing workshop via Zoom, and I have several meetings coming up next week.

I've notice a spike in interaction on Facebook  Phone calls and Face Time are also nice. Hearing another's voice is less mechanical than a text.

My house is clean! (Except for my home office.)

I turn off the news. I limit myself to one hour a day: half hour of local, and a half hour of national, and press the mute button when the liar in Chief comes on to spew his incoherent nonsense. And now the government wants to de-fund the USPS? How can the world's most powerful nation not have postal service? Don't get me started...I plan to start writing a lot more letters.

Twitter and Instagram also keep me connected. Tonight I posted a video on how to trim your own bangs. https://twitter.com/LauraMoewriter/status/1249155608575643648?s=20

This week I've finally been able to focus enough to write. It's not good writing, but at least words are flowing.


Hope you're having a happy quarantine.

Changing the Mindset

The other day I went to Trader Joe's. Like many groceries, a sign outside announced limited hours. While flowers abounded, the normally well stocked shelves were pretty much bare. Smartly, Trader Joe’s limited the number of each item type one can buy to two to avoid hoarding. But there wasn’t much left to buy.

In produce, I was able to find salad, bananas, and one of the last bags of navel oranges. No toilet paper, paper towels, hand sanitizer, and hand balm remained in the health and beauty aisle, and most of the hand soap was also gone. Of the baking products, where chocolate chips, flour, and sugar should have been the shelves were stripped. The only flour left was almond flour. At 7.98 a bag I figured I didn’t need to bake anything. I had eggs at home, so I didn’t buy one of the half dozen left in the case. I’d hoped to find Havarti cheese, which I did, but it was lite. Lite Havarti is better than no Havarti.

At a nearly empty freezer case I picked up the last bag of frozen corn. All the frozen fruit, broccoli, green beans, and mixed veggies were gone. Further down in the empty freezer case I looked to see if they had my favorite: bean taquitos. “They’re sold out of all my usual favorites,” I said aloud. A young man standing at a social distance from me said, “I guess this a good time to try something new.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.” I picked up one of the three remaining packages of Cheese enchiladas. I’d never noticed them before amid the normally overflowing freezer case. Other than the enchiladas having a high fat content, they’re tasty, and will make a good temporary substitute until they restock my bean taquitos.

Right now, with social isolation, we’re all trying something new, seeking ways to maintain connections while also social distancing. It’s a massive reboot of our personal systems. I’m cleaning our junk drawers and cabinets and dusting more often. Today I flipped my mattress, (something I’d been meaning to do for ages,) and reduced the stacks on my nightstand.

Lucky for us in Seattle, one of the hot spots for the virus, our weather is sunny this week. It’s still chilly, but it may be warm enough later for me to clean out my car. I need to keep moving in order to burn off the 38% fat content of the cheese enchilada I ate for lunch.

If you can't find what you want, try something new.

Happy Coping

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Before I retired from teaching six years ago, I used to joke with my students that when the Apocalypse happens, people from my generation will be the ones they turn to for leadership and guidance. I also used to encourage my kids to leave the country. Go to a Third World country and see how the rest of the world survives. I wanted them to stash a global perspective in their tool boxes. They scoffed, believing that apocalyptic events were the fiction comprised of zombies and aliens. None considered a virus would change all our lives.

Right now, hordes of people in the US are freaking out from the lack of toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Small conveniences that we in First World countries expect access to any time, anywhere. The Rolling Stones wisely sang, you can’t always get what you want…

For three years my family lived in Bangladesh. At the time, it was a poor country with one of the highest illiteracy rates in the world. Bangladesh, like many Asian countries, has modernized through technological advances, yet large segments of the population still survive in poverty conditions. Living overseas in a poor country has given me an advantage to thrive in this current crisis.

In order to maintain a Western lifestyle, a couple times a year we ordered bulk shipments from Singapore of items we take for granted such as toilet paper, shampoo, coffee, oatmeal, chocolate chips, canned goods, peanut butter, and for my parents, booze. (My parents quickly learned to order more toilet paper and alcohol than our family needed in order to share with the nuns, priests, and staff at Holy Cross who weren’t privy to Singapore shipments.)

Until our supplies arrived, we used local products. Local TP was brown, and had the texture of paper towels at a gas station. Fellow Americans sometimes bartered with each other and traded products. Westerners returning to the sates often donated or sold what was left in their cabinets. But for the most part, we relied on what was available.

With the closure of restaurants and bars, you will crave what you cannot have. Our cook went to market daily and we ate quality food. But we spoiled Americans craved processed foods and brands we couldn’t get on the other side of the world. I once paid three dollars for a can of Campbell’s bean with bacon soup. That was in 1969, which is probably equivalent to twenty bucks.

We also had limited access to English speaking TV. We read a lot of books. We practically tackled the book wallah when he pulled up to our house with a basket of books to sell. Because the  country was in political upheaval, for our own safety, we were often remanded to our homes under Martial Law.

Life was vastly different overseas than it was back home, but overall, we adapted. And you will too.

My generation grew up without instant gratification. We had to wait for things. We communicated by mail rather than IM or text. If we craved fast food, we had to drive out of town. We knew we couldn’t always get what we wanted, but we got what we needed.

Hang in there. .

Great Reads

As we remain self-quarantined, one of the best ways to treat ourselves is to read.

MEMORIES LOOKING THROUGH A SCREEN DOOR by Gerald Bigelow is a collection of poems that are a quiet protest against racism, a tribute to loved ones, a snapshot of communities, a history of time and place, an exploration of spirituality, and ultimately, the inevitability of aging.

Read them for the beauty of language, and lines that shatter you like ones from Must where a circus parade goes through town and “lions reach out/paw the air/create a fearful silence.”

The accompanying illustrations make a great companion to each section to the text. In his early years, he shows the precariousness of the world in which he lived, where fires erupted often. In poem #6, Bigelow writes, “I guess it was just the cost of doing business” of the the Plastics Factory fire, and “in those days people just died early.” “And they didn’t complain because they didn’t know any better.”

Bigelow points out how “grown folks give you directions… but “rarely do they give instruction on the safest way to get there.” Each poem in this collection of 87 has its own power. One that speaks loudest to me are Time Knows, in which “time knows the river, the same river flows/neither greeting/nor bidding farewell.”

Read them for their exploration on race, in It no longer matters, where Bigelow explores how “Your 1950s and my 1950s were not the same.” And finally, read these poems for the universal truth of growing older. “[in the mirror] I look and see lines and creases/ must be some kind of flaw in the glass.”

Happy Reading!

Writing in Captivity

I live in the Seattle area, a hot spot for the corona-virus.

I'm writing a novel about a couple quarantined. (It's being written by my alter ego, a much younger, more attractive redhead who pens steamy romance. I'm not revealing any more.) Ironically, I'm on a self-imposed quarantine as the Seattle area is a hot spot for the corona-virus, aka COVID-19.

Part of the problem with COVID-19 is not its deadly stats. We still have a better chance of dying from flu or pneumonia that corona-virus. The issues are that we don't know how its spreads, there is no definitive treatment, and there's no vaccine.

Unlike my characters, I am free to come and go as I please. I just choose to stay at home to minimize exposure unless I need to go out. My kitchen is well stocked with food, cat food, tea, and wine. The cat and I are ready for the zombie or virus Apocalypse.

The word 'Quarantine' makes me envision cages and dining on food slid to me through a narrow window. But for an introvert and a writer, (often one and the same) it's not a bad deal. If I turn off the TV and its endless political, disease filled rhetoric, I may actually get a lot of work done. Several events for which I was supposed to attend next week are canceled. I'm caught up on laundry. If I don't leave the house, all I need to wear are pajamas. (I don't write naked. Yikes. I live in an earthquake zone.)

If schools close, the ones who will suffer most are parents and extroverts. Around here, where tech is a big employer, parents are already working from home. But their kids are still at school, so they can get work done. If the kids are home and locked inside, it will be like an extended snow day,  If parents are wise, they will stock up on games, puzzles, books, and batteries along with food. Libraries and bookstores are still open, and some bookstores like Third Place Books, will ship to you with FREE shipping.

IF you go out to eat, please give your server a big tip. Chances are they aren't serving as many customers as usual, and they can't work from home.

Once I buy cat litter later today, I'll be good for the next couple of weeks.

Happy Writing and reading.