I know 2020 was a difficult year for everyone. One great thing that did occur in 2020 was that Dustin and I went to the courthouse and got married in January, right before we heard anything at all about Covid. We were Covid oblivious. Ugh, the good old days.
For the longest time, we put “us” on the back burner. Thankfully, we decided enough was enough, and off to the courthouse we went!
Our wedding party was scheduled for September 2020 to celebrate with family and friends. Well, as you could imagine, that was postponed to August 2021. Now we’re taking it one month at a time, so we’ll see what the wedding situation looks like by then. But, if we can’t have a party, for us, it’s not the end of the world.
When the quarantine first began, I was fully engrossed in the first draft of my new novel. I had all the chapters in my story mapped out, the characters were all named, their personalities were developing, and I felt like I was starting to get into a healthy writing rhythm. Woo hoo!
It wasn’t easy getting used to the idea of not going out, not seeing family and friends, no longer getting haircuts (which, for those of you who opt for short hair, will understand that this is torture), and wearing nothing but yoga pants and pajamas on a daily basis became the norm…because, let’s face it, where was I actually going?
Another great thing that happened in 2020 was the release of The Night Bazaar: Venice – Thirteen Tales of Hidden Wishes and Dangerous Desires, edited by Lenore Hart. My short story Posione D’Amore was one of thirteen short stories published in this incredible anthology.
We weren’t positive we would be able to go on vacation last July due to the virus. It was planned and paid for the year before. All we could do was keep on top of the news to see if it was a possibility at that point. The Bahamian government finally allowed tourists to visit starting July 1st. Our flight out was set for July 4th. We made it by the skin of our teeth. We had to present a negative Covid test upon arrival, we had our travel visas, we wore our masks, and we took all precautions. The villa we always stay at was only filled with a handful of families. Literally only a handful. Most of whom we hardly ever saw. Half the time we were the only people on an entire strip of beach.
Well, once we returned back home, we found that the second half of 2020 brought with it a slew of stress and anxiety I couldn’t have mentally prepared for. Flipping our first property has proven to be a mentally draining process, which we are still unfortunately dealing with to this day. It has caused so much anxiety, and it has been taking up so much of my free time with worry and stress. I know I shouldn’t allow it to weigh on me like it does, but it’s easier said than done.
I was finding it difficult to block off time to write because all I wanted to do was distract myself with anything else I could, because when I did sit down to write, that blank page on my laptop stared at me and my mind wandered to far-off places I didn’t want it to go – back to the root of my stress and anxiety. So, I distracted myself with cooking.
I cooked…a lot.
Built a garden.
Got artsy.
Planted forty sunflowers. Found out the squirrels dug up my sunflower seeds. Planted another forty sunflowers in starter cups. Replanted my established sunflowers in the ground. Realized the deer mowed all forty sunflowers down within a day. Gave up on sunflowers.
Realized just how many gray hairs I have. Too many.
Made friends with a hummingbird.
The story for my new novel wouldn’t flow anymore, the characters’ voices disappeared, and I had no one to blame but myself for allowing that to happen. I scared my characters away. They packed up their shit and left town for a while.
Once we landed in 2021, I decided to stop making excuses. I made peace with the idea that stressful events were going to present themselves, but everything is temporary. Unpleasant people should be avoided and not given the satisfaction of stressing over what they do or say, because I can’t control their toxic nature. I just had to stop allowing their actions to spill over and affect me, like I was allowing it to for months. And if I wanted to write my next novel, I needed to stop making excuses as to why I couldn’t.
So, it’s a new year. And I’m writing again. Finally.
Once I got back into a writing routine, the story eventually came back to me, first in small drabs…but now I’m spewing word vomit onto the paper just to get the story out of my head. My characters are finally back and they want their story told. And now, I’ve finally returned to that place I miss the most. The place where I feel good because I wrote, even if it’s just a few pages. It’s progress. It’s happiness.
And if that’s what I focus on this year, then that’s all I need.
Progress and happiness.
