Living In The Age Of Coronavirus

It’s hard to imagine that my perennial station in life – that of spending long swaths of time essentially unemployed – would be to my advantage as the coronavirus ravages across the country, but there you are. 

Let me take a moment to describe the arc of my career. I decided I wanted to be a writer early on, while I was still a teenager. Of course, I had no idea then what that really involved, but by my late twenties, I was finding out.

Mostly what it involved was doing pretty much exactly what I wanted to do for very little money. Forget Steven King and John Grisham, the vast majority of writers live at a subsistence level, if they’re able to support themselves with their writing at all. I was no different. Although I spent thirty years eking out a living as a freelance writer, I did not, it is safe to say, ever break into the ranks of the one percenters. What’s more, I don’t expect that to happen any time soon, despite my recently published first novel.

And that’s okay. I may argue with people who accuse me of choosing a low-income life, but it’s also true that I knew all along the broad parameters of what I was getting into. Now, in a completely unforeseen way, all that may be working to my advantage. Like everyone else, I’m forbidden from gathering in auditoriums (as I would for an expensive music concert) eating in upscale restaurants, traveling on planes, and visiting foreign countries – things I could never afford to do anyway. Instead, I sit in front of my computer and write, spend time with my dogs, drink (very) cheap wine, and read. My friend Lynn and I watch movies together on Netflix. And that’s about it, sports fans. As soon as it warms up a bit, I’ll probably fish a little and hike a little, all things I can do safely alone.

You know what? So far, it seems almost familiar.