I haven’t tested positive for COVID yet, but it’s gotten inside me in other insidious little ways.
Here’s a first-time occurrence for me:
I’m at my desk novel writing, deep in a chapter. I pause. Part of the work of storytelling is asking questions: Is this authentic? Could this happen? Is this behavior believable? These questions came to mind and I’m suddenly wondering whether my characters should be more socially distanced, or wearing a mask. I wonder should I even include the cocktail gathering scene at a friend’s house.
But my novel has nothing to do with COVID. There’s no global pandemic or masks or even awareness there could be any such thing. Not once does a character in this novel think or say anything about out-of-control viruses.
This book was well underway long before COVID struck.
Yet there I am asking these questions about my writing. It’s another way COVID can get inside. So many impacts from this pandemic, both large and small, visible and hidden, tragic and trivial.
Worry not, dear readers. It was a momentary lapse. I’m tempted not in the least to start writing a “pandemic” book.