I am so distressed by the situation in Japan that I am finding it difficult to think about other things.
The heartbreaking loss, the continuing catastrophes, the overload of uncertain information–all make the situation completely torturous.
Then again, torturous situations seem to abound these days–the onslaught of pro-Khadafi forces in Libya; the onslaught of the Republican Congress at home; the never-ending winter in Battery Park City.
I am not saying that these onslaughts are in any way similar; only that their combined force makes me feel like crawling under a blanket.
Which brings me to the subject of escapism.
And, since I am on the subject of escapism, writing.
How do you keep going as a writer when you feel like just crawling under a blanket?
In the face of terrible events in the world, in the face of personal obscurity, there can be an extremely strong sense that one’s writing really is pretty trivial.
This is an especial problem when your writing really is pretty trivial. There is a big part of me that would like to write profound, thought-provoking, English-language-expanding books. But the fact is that my mind tends towards the silly. (The verbal equivalent of cute little elephants.)
Right now, I am in the midst of a final, or next to final, draft of an extremely silly novel, a teen novel, no less.
I have given up at about this stage on other manuscripts. What’s different this time is I’ve enlisted the help of others–a young illustrator, and a young editor (more on them another time.)
Involving other people makes it a whole lot harder to just bunk off.
Still, that blanket lures me like a woolen Siren. What I’m trying to do at the moment is to just put it over my legs (a layer beneath my laptop) and not completely succumb.

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