It’s not happening. And when I say “it”, I mean anything but worrying, batch cooking and donating to crowdfunding sites that offer support while the government fails to provide adequately for the NHS. My concentration is still shot to pieces. My thoughts are scattered. The idea of writing feels far away. I keep trying to get into a novel, but it’s not happening. For the first time in my life, I can confidently say: “It’s not you, it’s me.”
But, what I find easy to jump into are short stories and essays. There’s something about reading a short form – a capsule of place, time or character – that appeals to me. I know that I can get through it in one sitting. It doesn’t ask too much. The essay collection that’s both easing my commitment phobia and my raging anxiety, as well as making me laugh out loud (which doesn’t happen easily these days) is Wow, No Thank You by Samantha Irby. The collection is funny and sharp – it’s a frighteningly precise look at the cultural landscape. I can only read one essay at a time – not just because I’m distracted, but so as to savour Irby’s wit and wisdom.
