Anyone who tells you their adjustment to life under soshedist has been smooth sailing, A-OK, is without a doubt one of those annoying frenemies who only present the rosiest picture of themselves to the world in an attempt to psyche-out the competition. Make no mistake, life during Pandemic, life under partial lockdown is merely an approximation of life for the living because human beings need human contact to thrive.
As a writer, I've found the past few months excruciating. Because while it may be true that writing itself is a solitary activity and actually depends upon the writer's disciplined ability to end conversations, usher guests out the door and ignore phone calls in order to actually get the requisite alone time needed to write, writers, at least those who are consumed with questions of what it means to be human (which certainly includes those of us writing plays and films), need human interaction to feed the flame. I'm inspired every day by people I work with, people I love, people I grew up with, people I share a city block with, etc. etc. And I use the word "inspired" in the most neutral sense. People offer me fascinating stuff the chew on. Being consciously separated from the unpredictable chaos of other human people's agendas for the past four months has driven me to a place called Zoom.
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