It is important for the lady writer to suffer, so, first and foremost, she must sleep poorly. Perhaps a touch of existential dread will do the trick. Maybe it will come to her in the form of a child who is scared of getting an invisible virus and needs to sleep with her small face touching the writer’s face. Maybe a spouse with a snore will set her on the path to inspiration.
Breakfast should be eaten at dawn with a child who does not want that breakfast, he wants French toast, which she dutifully made him yesterday. She explains that she cannot go to the store for more bread at this time and he asks if cars have skeletons.
The lady writer reads her emails over coffee. It is not the brand she prefers, but she needs it to survive. She has three flat rejections and one tiered rejection so the lady writer decides today will be a writing day.
May the potentially unending plague give her the inspiration it gave so many (white men) before her. She needs to be the earner in this family as her spouse is currently unemployed along with most of America. The lady writer will be the hero of this story.
Before she can sit down to write, she has to make breakfast for the rest of the family, who, fortunately, complain less than the small boy. Then she sends them off into the moors so she can work. They do not want to go “hiking” as they put it, so they all retreat to the basement for media studies while the lady writer settles herself into her modestly comfortable dining room chair for a day of honest work.
A lady writer must not have a dedicated office. She must work in the thick of it, feeling the vibrant heart of her household throbbing with life around her.
Now, the great question: what to write about? The lady writer makes a list of all the things she misses from the “real” world but remembers that not everyone likes lists. A lady writer must be likable, of course. The lady writer pauses to take a quick stroll to the mailbox to find her inspiration. She finds only coupons.
She takes a photo with portrait mode of her child crying in the rain from before his outdoor sojourn and posts it to social media. She is praised for her honesty.
Endorphins swelling within her breast, the lady writer sits back in the dining room, a fresh cup of tea under her nose, and begins to write a shot for shot remake of her son’s tantrum and subsequent rage nap.
She proof-reads it while the children sing the classic plague song, “Ring around the Rosy” and prance about, delighting her. This truly is the children’s hour. They beg for love, the love only a mother can provide, because Daddy is a poopy buttcrack, and the lady writer puts down her quill, picks up a child, and, quickly hitting submit, hopes her musings will provide a livable wage for her family during the time of COVID.
Did you enjoy “A Lady Writer’s Guide to Freelancing in the Time of COVID?” Check out our other humor pieces for more good times.