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The Death of My Creativity

Since Canada started to shut down I’ve not written a single word. With nothing but time on my hands I could have written the world’s greatest novel by now. Instead I am dead inside. Faced with the most sudden and widespread change in our collective lives, I have no words to describe it.

Yesterday afternoon the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it. It was an unknown number from Toronto and we all know what that means. It’s either the septic guys or I’ve won a free cruise, and I’m not really the cruising type. I almost didn’t answer. The distinctive voice on the other end of the phone was just so welcome, my friend Gunjan whose Arctic to Antarctic dream trip just got dramatically derailed.

It turns out we are both suffering from the same symptoms, the complete inability to do anything. We agreed to work together, to nudge each other along to get something productive done every day. When I hung up the phone I felt 1000% better. With my creativity still in the toilet, I decided to focus my efforts on some technical aspects of my blog this morning. I’m happy to report that I have managed to accomplish very little on my own, but my hosting company tech support will have a nice long email from me waiting for them Monday morning.

It’s a new day today. Following Stephen King’s advice in his book On Writing I plan to “write every day” whether I have anything to write about or not. I feel better already, motivated. It’ll be a struggle to find things to write about that have nothing to do with this stupid virus, since that’s all there seems to be these days but I’m motivated to give it a try.

 

 

Jet Lag
Time to come home

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