Beautiful sunny day today. I mowed the lawn this weekend for the first time. I had to cut a trail through the berries for the lawn mower. The lawn mower is named “Dan” for our old neighbor who used to love to mow the lawn, but unfortunately he moved back to New England. The grass seems happier to be short and the ground is much more firm. The cherry tree is spectacular and the salmonberries are shooting up like the Blue Angels.

We met Nancy Ricketts for another smoke break on Sunday and sat out in front of City Hall, Jan and I brought our camp chairs so we could all sit far enough apart. We drank our coffee drinks and sipped them with our masks off. A few people came by and waved from their cars, and one person rolled down her window and chatted for a bit while staying parked in the middle of the street. Dot was on her leash and was extremely well behaved and didn’t try and get on Nancy’s lap or steal her cookies. Jan had made some gingersnaps and brought them down to have with our warm drinks. It was a fine time even though it felt cold for May. Usually there would be tourists from the early ships in town and the sidewalks would be buzzing but of course not this year.

I have been thinking about what kind of stories people will want to read in the next few years. I’m sure others all over the world, particularly in storytelling capitols like L.A. and New York. I suppose a lot depends on what happens next. Will our social fabric hold solid, or will we see rifts forming with the fringe groups, the anti vaxxers and the libertarian anti-government, citizens splintering away and holding more power in certain areas, perhaps dragging it out or worse, weaponizing the virus against immigrants and poor people, forcing them back to work and turning their heads while they die, perhaps even trying to cover up the deaths or explaining them away as somehow their own faults. I know this sounds alarmist but I believe that you really can’t get in the way of some stampedes. We panic easily now, look at gun sales, there is literally no way to stand in the way of this kind of fear and not get hurt.

I could write a novel about this, a near future thriller, where good people prevail, generosity, and intelligence, overcomes bullying. But here is the hard question, would you honestly want to read it? Or, suppose I got one detail about the near future wrong, say the real virus doesn’t appear as deadly to you and your community as I portrayed it in a story, would you, the hypothetical reader, accuse me of being Chicken Little and not read the book and heap criticism upon it, for alarmism or pandering?

Or should a writer just focus on a sweet intelligent feel good balm to reassure us all that everything is going to be just fine? Rom Com in the time of the virus? The woman who gets it barely survives, develops super immunity and goes on to take care of everyone in her neighborhood, and falls in love with the local cop who is likewise immune and is solving crimes of bullies stealing resources from the needy, but using super duper spyware that his autistic kid developed in isolation: super cool drones he names after insects, and robots he names after his favorite baseball players? You get the idea? I get kind of queasy just thinking about it. Kind of a zombie movie for the post virus set? Whatdayathink? No. I don’t think so either.

What kind of stories are you in the mood for? I’m genuinely asking. Historical? Fantasy? Straight non fiction. Just the facts? Self help? How to survive in the time of CV?

I’m asking because I’m just not sure the model of the crime story is not working right now. Do we really want to scare readers with an imagined threat when there is an all to real threat all around us? Unless there really is a dark conspiracy behind the pandemic and some sleuth figures it out and not only gets to the bottom of it but finds that there is an instant cure already in existence and ready to go. Could be a popular story but is it a Fantasy or just enough Fuel to run all of crazy town? No… that doesn’t sound very socially responsible way to spend my time. What is the good story to write, right now then?

Another Charolette’s Web? But this time the Charlotte characters actions would extol the virtues of the strength and magic of scientific thought and cooperation rather than the strength and magic of language to change lives. Okay… that shouldn’t be too hard. Mice in lab coats would be great, little tails sticking out. Jesus… who ever thought entertainment in the time of the pandemic would be so hard?

See, I’ve been thinking. But it really doesn’t matter what I think. I’m notoriously bad at thinking of what others might want to read. I usually just write what I know about: Crazy people who live on the edge of some wilderness or another, and they find beauty through their sadness. The good old, Melancholy joi du vivre. Really? Is anybody going to want to read that stuff?

Anyway… write me. What books do you want to see written in the next two years. Lets assume we will be living with this or the hard effects of this virus for at least another two years. What stories do your really want to read? Don’t think what you should read, or what would impress your teachers or anyone what you would be reading. (I am bad about doing that, I am a first class book bullshitter) tell me what story do you really want to read?

Thanks.

Today I read from William Stafford. One of my all time favorites. Here is a little poem I wrote for a dance studio here in Sitka. They wanted a poem as a prompt to improvise a dance, then to choreograph a performance piece. It was a great idea and turned out very lovely. I wanted it to be open and big enough for the small kids to have room to use their imagination and the young musicians had a good time writing “new music” to it as well.

EAVESDROPPING

——— For Bill Stafford

The river,

as it passes,

says,

“See? It’s easy,”

but the rain

wants nothing

more

than a place to rest.

“Too noisy,”

is the only thing

the snow says.