Hello, my dears. Saturday afternoon. A warm, late spring day. Your humble correspondent is trying, and failing, to relax.
You see, I finished HER DARK LIES and turned it in. (HURRAH!) Oh, there is a great deal of work ahead—it has a major timeline issue, this I know—but I finally threw up my hands and admitted I needed an expert’s opinion on how to fix that. There’s 113k words of story to be played with. As we always say, you can’t edit a blank page.
But instead of rejoicing and settling in for a few days of Netflix and chill, I had pizza and champagne, watched half of a Harry Potter movie, then promptly kicked it into 6th gear to catch up on all the stuff I’ve let go in the months I’ve been focused on the book. And it’s bad enough that I keep peeking at my To-Do list and suddenly find myself ... elsewhere.
How good are you at indulging yourself? How good are you at taking time off, nourishing your soul, allowing yourself to step away from your responsibilities, and just exist?
I ask because here it is, a beautiful afternoon, and I’ve caught myself fighting the desire to sit and read a book just because I can. There are so, so many things I need to do. I’m wildly behind on all my correspondence, blurb books are piling up, May has turned into the Month of Zoom, and the house—oh, the house.
I’m the master of the multitask. Talk on the phone whilst riding the bike. Listen to the Tolkien Lecture Series whilst scrubbing the bathrooms. Audiobook whilst folding clothes. Calendar management whilst having a Driveway Date. Reading clipped articles whilst eating lunch. Talking to my parents whilst making dinner.
You get the idea…
But you can’t read a physical book and multitask. You have to stay focused, stay present. And my focus is completely and utterly shot. I mean, we’re in the midst of a pandemic, and doing anything indulgent feels wrong. Knowing that I have the privilege of staying home means I need to make the most of it. Reading only for the fun of it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t feel fair to those who can’t.
I just went to my Goodreads shelf and realized... I’ve only read 13 books this year. No, I’ve only finished 13 books. I’ve started about 20 others and put them aside because they just aren’t working for me at the moment. I’ll circle back on most of them—I am good at judging whether a book isn’t right for me, or if it isn’t right for me at that moment. But when reading is part of your job and you suddenly find yourself unable to stay in a book for more than 10 minutes at a time?
It’s an interesting thing, this inability to allow myself to lie fallow. A Protestant work ethic is a good thing, to a point. But when you feel guilty for taking a day off after you’ve been working relentlessly for months and months on a single project, you know you’ve gotten a leeetle too far into workaholic standards.
Though, maybe it’s also a lot to ask of a tired brain to snap back into a non-adrenal state overnight. Maybe it will take a few weeks to settle. I’ve clearly built a habit with this new work/multitask schedule, and need to trim it back to something more normal.
So tell me, friends, how do you relax in a pandemic?
As ever, onward...
