What Self-Isolation Has Taught Me About Writing…  

The first week of NYC going on PAUSE, I felt something inside of me die. Don’t get me wrong; I was and continue to support remote working and social distancing to stop the spread of the virus, even on days when self-isolation makes me feel desolate. My mind has been in agreement with Governor Cuomo’s stance for the state of New York. But my heart has continued to feel heavy.

Initially, knowing that we wouldn’t be able to see anyone for time unknown made me anxious. Conversations, engagements, discussions, chai-time, happy hour, book launches, literary events—don’t they all impact our writing? No subway rides or any form of travel—home to several of my stories and inspiration—sounded scary. I get my writing done during my commute to work. But when your commute evolves walking from your bedroom to your living room in a New York City apartment—your tiny, temporary, make-shift office until such time we can return to our original, physical spaces—it’s hard to feel jazzed up about storytelling. 

 I told myself I couldn’t conjure up creative ideas and build a fictional world for my new novel when the real world around me was crumbling. Everywhere I turned, someone was sick, dying, losing their job and home. Was my family, which is spread across three countries, safe? What could I do to ensure my friends, family, colleagues, and I stayed healthy without jeopardizing anyone’s safety or undermining anyone’s beliefs? Not having answers or having any control can be incapacitating.

There have been nonstop rumors and misinformation about the virus, which has left most of us feeling overwhelmed. For instance, walking is integral to my creative process. Some advised, get in that movement everyday while others recommended not stepping out of the house. One day we were told to not wear a mask; next thing you hear that masks are the best thing since sliced bread. You can’t help but wonder, Crap, did I catch the virus because some fools couldn’t make up their mind?

The need for food has been tied into our survival instincts. Working from home and not being able to dine out means being creative in the kitchen, at least twice a day, so boredom doesn’t set in. Then there was creativity involved in food shopping. Would Instacart deliver groceries? Back up; would I even find a slot to get stuff delivered at home? Will all the items we ordered be available? How would I creatively use two pounds of jalapenos the store delivered as a replacement for the green peppers? Were we being doubly-conscious to not over-order so there was enough available for others doing their food shopping?

The brain has been working overtime: learning to survive, separating good information from bad information, and processing one day at a time. The array of human emotions can be exhausting. Writing requires centeredness. But COVID-19 has washed away every iota of calm. The uncertainty of not knowing whether your job exists. The guilt of surviving and having a job.

The fear of closing down your business or receiving a funding for your company when those around you didn’t. The stress of not knowing whether your family and friends working on the frontlines of the healthcare system are safe or not. The privilege of being able to work from home when so many essential workers don’t have the option and risk their lives daily to keep us safe. The annoyance you feel when people don’t wear masks and hang out in big groups in public spaces. Switching between gratitude and trepidation on a daily basis can dry up your creative juices.

While you might not have the energy to pen down your thoughts or complete that next project, it doesn’t make you any less of a writer. The experiences are sinking in, deep into your core. They are marinating and ruminating and blending and fermenting. When you are ready, these ideas and thoughts will take the form of words. They will pick the genre they want to be written in. I would like to remind us writers that we have been continuing to stay creative; just not in the way we traditionally perceive creativity. We forget that words are secure; they know how to carve room for themselves in our lives. We, as writers, need to have a little more faith in our relationships with writing.

How can I be so confident? Here is the thing: I fell critically ill in 2018, and I wasn’t able to write for 5-6 months. Writing is how I have always made sense of the world. But my world turned upside down, and I barely managed to stay alive. Being homebound for six months made me vulnerable and ask difficult questions: were writing and I over because I was physically unable to write? Would it become an unrequited relationship where words wouldn’t want to see me? But here I am today, sharing this essay with all of you.

My health scare in 2018 taught me several lessons. One of the biggest ones was in patience and faith:

Writing, much like biking and yoga, is something you don’t forget. This doesn’t have to be the time to catch up on your writing. It might take some time to reconnect, but once a writer, always a writer. Wait. Breathe. Pause. Reflect. Breathe. Writing is about showing up daily with dedication to your words. Yes, we want the muse to inspire us. But if she declines to join, you’d still be fine. Because perseverance, discipline, and dedication beat moody muse any day.

 We will be okay. Words. Us. Writers. Writing. So many writers are putting an insane amount of productivity pressure on themselves. This time of PAUSE/ lockdown/ shelter-in-place has given us the opportunity to sit with ourselves. It has taught us to never take anything, including the mental space for creativity, for granted. Most importantly, it has offered us the opportunity to explore what we write and what we really want to write about. Reacquaint yourself with writing. That’s huge!

 You can’t rush healing or creativity. They happen in their own time. Over the last few weeks, I have heard my friends, who have never written before, say that they feel they have a book in them. My fiction writing colleagues have admitted to dipping their toes in the pool of nonfiction writing. Reality is that the coronavirus, much like any untoward experience, has left us all with stories to tell. Just because you didn’t finish writing those stories yesterday, doesn’t make you any less of a writer. Use this time to process your feelings, sit with your experiences, and connect with your inner voice. Move forward in a manner that is consistent with your life goals and enables your mental health and overall wellness.

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Sweta Srivastava Vikram (www.swetavikram.com), featured by Asian Fusion as “one of the most influential Asians of our time,” is a mindset & Ayurveda coach, international speaker, and best-selling author of 12 books, including, Louisiana Catch. She is a five-times Pushcart Prize nominee whose work has appeared in The New York Times, amongst other publications, across nine countries on three continents. As a trusted source on health and wellness, most recently appearing on NBC and Radio Lifeforce, Sweta has dedicated her career to writing about and teaching a more holistic approach to creativity, productivity, and wellness.

Born in India, Sweta spent her formative years between the Indian Himalayas, North Africa, and the United States collecting and sharing stories. Winner of the “Voices of the Year Award,” (past recipients have been Chelsea Clinton and founders of the #MeToo movement) in her spare time, Sweta uses yoga to empower female survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence. A graduate of Columbia University, she lives in New York City with her husband and works with clients globally. Find her on: Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Facebook.

Sweta Vikram 

Mindset + Wellness Coach | Global Speaker | Best-selling Author

Winner of Voices of the Year Award

www.swetavikram.com | sweta@swetavikram.com

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Order my latest book: Louisiana Catch

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