Why I Continue to Write (With Optimism)
We are in a paradigm-shifting world catastrophe, yet somehow life must go on.
As I write this morning, I listen to my toddler sigh on the mattress on the floor where we sleep. My coffee steams in the cold room. Against the window blinds, sunlight gradually sways up between the magnolia leaves.
It is springtime, and we’re in the midst of a global pandemic that has shaken social and economic life to its core. The quiet street outside portends the hurricane that is coming here.
We are all battening down in our houses, feeling there is little we can do beyond what we are doing. Unlike in a hurricane, there is nowhere we can go. We can’t pack the car and drive inland. We are stuck on an eroding coast, and we can’t even plywood our windows.
My freelance writing and design work has largely catered to small business owners — an endangered species as the American economy seizes. The gig economy is about to become a lot more precarious. My work will evaporate.
My husband, like millions of others, faces the grim possibility of job loss. By June, one Federal Reserve official estimates, official unemployment could spike to 30 percent. What will become of us?
