Pandemic...writing it into your work? Or not?

I’m facing two problems with my newest writing project.

One: Should I incorporate the pandemic into my plot?  Should I make reference to it?

Two: What will life be like in a year from now?

I have a hunch that wearing masks will become ubiquitous, much like it always has been in Asia.

I also believe that shaking hands will become a thing of the past.

And once this is over, I’m guessing there will be a glut of office space that will become available.  Companies will have proof that their employees can function quite nicely from home.

Teleconferencing has already become the new normal.

Will people be carrying around cards proving that they’ve either tested normal or tested that they have had the virus and have built up immunity?  Will those people be the only ones who will be able to go to work, socialize in a bar, or dine in a restaurant?

I recently sent my latest book, Shadow Hill, to my publisher.  Of course I’m always on pins and needles until I hear back from her.  You’re hoping that your work is good, but in the back of your mind, you’re worried sick that they’ll think it’s trash.  When I started writing Shadow Hill, it was easily a year ago.  No one had even heard of Covid-19.

So, there is absolutely no mention of it in the manuscript. Not one word.

In the book, people shake hands, they have face to face meetings, they have drinks together, and they have sex.

In writing the new book, I hate to think that my protagonist might be forced to conduct her investigation and do an interview from her kitchen using Zoom.  I’m not sure I can write an action scene where everyone is wearing a mask. And writing a sex scene between two people who haven’t been isolating for fourteen days?  “No, darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until they invent a vaccine.”

In the New York Times this morning, there’s a lengthy piece about what the next year or two may look like.  It ranges from the mildly frightening to the downright horrifying.

So the big question is: what will be the effects on our writing?

Social Animals

Late afternoon or evening I go for a walk. Usually along the Spring Creek bike trail. A couple of days ago I passed a group of neighbors who found a way to socialize at a distance. They took their lawn chairs to a large green common area and visited. 

Now they would be wearing masks. But I think this is a very good idea. The lack of human contact is even getting to me and I'm extremely introverted. 

This morning one of my friends from my knitting group came to my house to get some elastic. We both are making masks and I happen to have quite a bit of elastic on hand. I met her on the patio and wore gloves to hand her the plastic sack of material. We both wore masks and sat more than six feet apart. I was so happy to see her!

We talked for quite some time. This six member knitting group has been meeting at Barnes and Noble in Loveland for about ten years. Three of the members are expert knitters. It's also a confidential support group and a group of avid readers. We have never had a meeting that we didn't share information and opinions about books although it's not a formal book club. 

We love meeting in B&N because we can leave our table and run to purchase the books other members are recommending. It's a busy happy group and I really miss it. 

In fact, during this sad bizarre time, I've done a lot of thinking about activities I've always taken for granted. Our Diocese has done a marvelous job of producing on-line religious services, and I admire the work that has gone into the presentations. But Easter! Home alone? 

I have a book to review and last week I finished a piece a publisher had requested. Beyond that, it's difficult to anticipate where the publishing industry is heading. It's always a mistake anyway to write to the market. The best plan always has been to write what you really want to write. 

I'm reading like crazy, watching too much TV, and making masks. 

Sick Days

In my on-going effort to understand the characters in my 1939 book-in-progress, I've been thinking about how my characters respond to being ill. This was inspired in part by my annual physical, after which I was given my flu shot. I thought about it again when I saw three people in the same row on my plane flight wearing masks. They looked young, college-aged. Seeing them made me glad I'd had my flu shot. But I saw them again after we landed – just as the young man – having discarded his mask – was turning his baseball cap backward. He strolled away, wearing his backpack, one of the young women at his side. She had ditched her mask, too, and looked unlike someone who would have needed or donned one. The other young woman, who had seemed to be with them, wasn't in sight. I was left curious about them. Had their parents told them to wear masks? Or, had they thought it would be cool to do it? Or, really been concerned about ruining their trip by coming down with something?

That sighting made me think of Adrian Monk, and the final episode of the show that I had seen last weekend. Monk, who should have owned stock in a company that manufactured anti-bacterial wipes, had learned his dead wife's secret and found the daughter that she thought had died but that had been adopted. With his wife's murder solved and her daughter now in his life, Monk had begun to heal. On his way to a crime scene, he wore a turtleneck sweater under his jacket instead of a white shirt and tie. And one suspected that he was less concerned about shaking hands and being hugged.

In my 1939 book, there are several characters who don't have the time to be ill. If they were sick, they would try to conceal it and keep working. My sleeping car porter and train cook need the money. But the cook -- who wants to own a restaurant would have his grandma's recipe for chicken soup. The sleeping car porter, whose mother died when he was a boy, would shiver in his jacket and blow his nose out of sight of the passengers. He might dose himself with cough medicine (Was it being sold in 1939? What brand was popular?). He was raised by his father and had no grandma (why not? both dead? Estranged? But his father was a preacher).

Then there is my villain. How would he handle being under the weather? Stretched out in his bed, under warm covers.

Hot toddy brought to him by a servant on his nightstand. Flipping through a book that the woman he is courting was reading the last time he saw her. What book is it? What does he think about it?

So my thoughts about my sick characters – down with a cold or the flu – has taken me a bit deeper as I think about how they would respond. I've generated a few more questions about them that might provide useful insights.

How do your characters handle sick days?