Following the Rabbit in Uncertain Times (March 2020)

Welp. One month I’m waxing poetic about ‘have no fear’ in creative life, and now it’s become a global sentiment of survival. Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? But here we are. And in my quest to continue writing despite it all, here’s what I’ve learned: in times of upheaval, it’s more important to notice your creative behavior rather than control it. 

First, I know my privilege is showing. If I have the capacity right now to consider how to keep writing, I’m doing better than most. So, if you’ve got bigger problems, my heart goes out to you. Maybe just check out the playlist I made if you need a pick me up. But if you’re like me and lucky enough to still consider creative pursuits, then I encourage you to read on. 

As you may remember, I’m currently attempting a major rewrite of my novel. And man. My habits are so much fussier than I realized. There was a time in my life where I worked in open concept offices—music, chatter, and distraction all around. Yet somehow I was able to get work done. Let me tell you, after a few years of working from home, that focus-muscle I used to have from my company days has atrophied completely.

Like many, my partner is working from home now. Our apartment isn’t tiny, but there’s nowhere to go that can fully drown out the sound from his (understandably) frenzied conference calls. And conveniently, my landlord decided to have some work done on her deck, right below our kitchen table (ie, my new desk). I was stressed that I couldn’t focus and write how I wanted. I didn’t know how to cope with the sudden change of being alone most of the day, to all these distractions.

But when we’re taken out of our routine, it’s an opportunity to learn something about ourselves. And it takes time to find out how to adjust to get something done. 

I took to Spotify, searching for some sort of music or white noise that would drown out the sounds so I could focus. But then - alas! - more distraction. I suddenly found myself knee-deep in random Covid/quarantine playlists that people were making in reaction to the times. Except, I was not amused. I judged them hard with all my music rage*. Y’all, I’ll just say one thing: a list of clever song titles does not a good playlist make. I mean, who really wants to listen to “Down with the Sickness?” And for the record, “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” is actually about a weird Lolita situation with a girl and her teacher.

(*In High Fidelity, Nick Hornby describes music rage as, “Like road rage but more self righteous … You’re carrying out the will of God, and God wants these people dead.” For the record, I wasn’t quite there; we must come together in times like these.)

All jokes aside, I found myself spending an inordinate amount of time making my own Coronapocalypse playlist. Finding and arranging songs by my own definition of good and on theme. And at first, I felt guilty to waste the time, since this was seemingly not at all important to my book. But then, yes there’s a lesson here, I allowed the distraction to become something of its own. 

I first figured that, Hey! This can be my newsletter playlist! And it is, but I could only fool myself so much. As a chronic self-analyzer, I kept asking myself, why do I care so much about making this stupid playlist right now? At last, I realized it had something to do with who I was when I was younger. And as someone writing for and about young adults, that’s actually some of the best work I can do. Although, I firmly believe that no matter what kind of creative work you do, anything that brings you closer to your younger self is a valuable exercise. 

Growing up, in full High Fidelity fashion, I was obsessed with making the perfect playlist. Except I called them “mixes” and they were first on tapes and then CDs because, you know, I’m #old. Making a mix was a form of expression for me. I had them for every emotion, and I made them all. the. time. for friends and love interests as a subtle orrrr not-so-subtle way to share how I was feeling. To use the cliché Hans Christian Anderson quote, ‘Where words fail, music speaks’ - and baby, mixtapes were my native language. 

The main character in my book also has a very personal tie to music. It’s currently an important element, but as I was remembering my past self, I can see now that music needs to play an even bigger role in the story. This book is not even close to autobiographical, but I think as we get older, we forget how vital music is for survival during those awful high school years. It’s not an interest—it’s lifeblood. Of course I can only speak from experience, but I think you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone under the age of twenty-one that doesn’t have one earbud permanently in place with big opinions about what’s streaming through it. 

I have a “revision plan” for my book - and I use quotations there because it’s really not so much a plan, but a big ol’ list. I’ve categorized this list Franklin Covey style: my ‘big rock’ edits which are more like encompassing concepts I need to accomplish throughout the whole book, and then my ‘little rock’ edits, which are more like specific scenes or issues I need to resolve. At the end of last week, I added another big rock: amp up the music. It’s weird, but I know already that the book will be better for it.

So yes, it took a ridiculous playlist project to jog my memory and realize something about my book, but hey, there are still worse ways to spend time right now.  

In times of upheaval, we all might be having different, unexpected types of urges. And there’s a difference between the endless scroll of Twitter versus a genuine creative distraction. But by letting myself follow the white rabbit, I came to an important conclusion about my primary project. And that feels really good. In fact, I think we should all give credit to our subconscious when we’re under stress. It might take us the long way ‘round, but I believe it always leads to somewhere that matters.

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PS: Stay safe, stay home, and an endless thank you if you can’t do either of those things right now so the rest of us can. And an extra special thanks to my husband dealing with those frenzied conference calls so I can continue to putz around with playlists and words.

- Tess Canfield, March 2020 via The Latest