Writing in isolation
When You Think You’ve Got Nothing to Write About Because You’re Stuck Indoors
Plenty occurs in your head, and there’s nothing to stop you penning tales about it
If you write, you might occasionally succumb to the notion you’ve nothing noteworthy to scrawl. This is especially so if you’ve not been out of the house for several weeks or more. When you leave your abode and go into the world, things happen.
You get stuck in traffic (okay, maybe you wouldn’t write about that) or your eyes meet a good-looking stranger’s over a taxicab, and before you know it, you climb in together and share a journey. So, now you’ve got something to write about. Romance, drama, or even the funny little events everyone can relate to are writing fodder.
But indoors, not a great deal occurs. Or so you think. Actually, plenty goes on in your head because you face fewer distractions. You are left with your fears and hopes, and maybe pets, partner, and children, and all kinds of issues arise — the type you didn’t know existed until you couldn’t go outside.
Being shut in is, in some ways, akin to meditating for the first time. Initially, at least. Just like a beginner who must sit quietly, you can’t fill your life with activity to transport you from your emotions to a less meaningful, but easier to manage, life.
When meditators start their journey, most fidget. They are uneasy. They have no idea sitting still and doing nothing is hard. Every rumble of the stomach sounds like a thunder clap rolling through the valley: They’ve never been privy to the nuances of their body as it groans and gurgles before, and the experience disturbs them.
As a writer indoors, when you’d rather be outdoors, you might be ill-at-ease. For the first time, your emotions scurry around in your head and have space to fly. They shout out above the din of your ego (which, incidentally, screams for bagels, coffee, and light entertainment to save you from yourself).
And your imagination runs riot amid the chaos. You daydream, just like you once did as a child as you sat through boring lectures at school. Or while you were chastised and wanted to be elsewhere.
So, you’ve got more to write about than usual, even though your fodder isn’t supplied by external forces. There are no mishaps, apart from spilling your coffee or forgetting to put the trash out, and no strangers behaving badly to create tales about, but there’s much going on inside your head.
The only problem is, you aren’t sure whether anyone really wants to know what’s going on in there. Usually, it’s a closed movie-room only you have tickets to view. Let readers in though, and you may find they enjoy what they see.
Perhaps you fantasize about what you’d do, if only you were set free, on a tropical island. Or you’re busy imagining a massive vegetable plantation in your local park, big enough to feed your entire family, just in case you meet another occasion when shopping’s difficult.
Or, you might watch movies, hate them, and so create better endings, or decide, finally, to deal with issues like loose door handles, leaky roofs, and ingrown toenails that need attention. And there’s a story there (yes, even the toenails), if you look closely.
Not much happens outside now, and if it does, you can’t see it. But plenty occurs in your head or your living room, and there’s nothing to stop you penning tales about it.
Copyright © 2020 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved
