A dozen ways to stay calm and keep writing BY WILEY WEI-CHIUN HO
In early 2020, I found myself in the cool slipstream of writing flow. A channel was open, and I was swimming in new ideas and stories. Buoyed by recent wins, including a scholarship to a writers’ workshop at Banff Centre and first prize in the 2020 BC-Yukon Short, I was on a roll, averaging a thousand (fairly decent) words a day. Then, the new coronavirus hit, and the world went flat and quiet. Initially, I considered the stay-home orders a gift, another sign from the universe to devote myself to my writing. But instead of producing more with the extra time I had from suspended work contracts and cancelled social events, I wrote less. I slept odd hours and moped around the house. At my desk, I would write a sentence and delete it, open a book and stare at it like wallpaper. I wasn’t alone. Since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Public Health Agency of Canada has reported spikes in anxiety and depression, with over forty percent of the population experiencing fatigue, loneliness, a persistent sense of fear, and a lack of motivation. After weeks of feeling unmoored and creatively blocked, I checked in with my doctor, who assured me I was depressed but not clinically so—at least not yet. She said it was vital that I try new things to improve my mood so it didn’t get stuck in a low pattern. I researched and tried a variety of lifestyle hacks. After months of experimentation, here is what I found. Sleep is a strong ally. The nights where I stayed up way too late bingeing The Queen’s Gambit and Superstore did me no good, no matter how good their writing. The nights when I went to bed with a book (preferably not horror or apocalyptic) enabled better rest and calmer mornings where I could get some work done.
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wordworks | 2021 Volume III September
Consistency is important. I reserve three hours every morning to write. In that time, reading counts too. If my own words are reluctant to come, I read. Sooner or later, an amazing passage will inspire me back to my own writing. When I can’t face the page, I sing— badly, but that’s beside the point. After belting out a couple of sappy ballads, I find it difficult not to smile. Nature is restorative. Walk, run, bike, swim, forestbathe. The exact activity is unimportant, but scientific data shows that after just forty minutes of being in nature, our blood pressure, blood glucose, and cortisol levels all measurably drop. Simply being near trees or the ocean, particularly minus technology, gives our nervous system a reset. I’ve started to leave my smartphone at home. Without the distraction of pinging notifications, or the ability to take pictures or “quickly” look something up, my body has begun to notice the physical world around it. I’ve taken to bringing pen and paper on my walks for when new ideas or observations arrive—and they do most often when I’m outdoors. Gradually, my calm has returned, and with it, creativity. After six months of experimentation, I had written a new short story and revised several others. I was feeling quite proud of myself until I heard a writer say she’d finished a whole novel, which, she complained, paled in comparison to Shakespeare penning King Lear during a London plague. “Not only that,” she continued, “he also came up with the plots for Macbeth and Antony and Cleopatra.” How was that supposed to help ordinary mortals like me? It didn’t. But it did lead me to another realization: Comparison truly is a killer to joy. If you must compare, then compare your writing today to your writing last month and notice the progress.
