By Barbara Neal Varma //
News flash: The coronavirus has spread to our writing.
Books, blogs, magazine articles, you name it; today’s written words have caught the COVID-19 bug as editors and other writing marketeers clamor for stories that reflect this 2020 year of living dangerously.
Challenge is, I’m big on writing about the little things; personal essays about the extraordinary finds in an ordinary day. How was I supposed to pare down the pandemic to no more than a thousand words?
By not writing about it, turned out, or at least not directly.
Back in April, I decided to spend some quality shelter-in-place time tackling long put-off projects around the house. First up: the near dozen or so boxes stacked pyramid style in our guest bedroom. They contained family photos, newspaper clippings, crayon art once proudly displayed on the fridge—basically, all the stuff my parents had either not had the heart to part with or thought might come in handy one day, such as the receipts for every major appliance they’d ever purchased.
I found the square cardboard envelope among my dad’s military papers. It was hand-addressed to his mom, my grandmother, and held a… small vinyl record? A quick Google search later, I realized that what I held in my suddenly shaking hands was an, OMG(!), voice message from my dad to his parents. Apparently, these “Letters on a Record” were produced during WWII to help soldiers and their families stay connected.
A friend rushed over her still-working record player, and on that ordinary day in May, I had the extraordinary experience of hearing my dad’s voice again 21 years after he died.
I also had the makings of a great story, one I could totally tie in to how today’s families are staying in touch while health and safety concerns keep them apart.
After that, the DIY ideas multiplied like dust bunnies.
A friend called after a sleepless night worrying about the chocolate-covered frozen bananas she’d inadvertently handled while not wearing a mask. The intent was to hand them out as thank-you treats—but were they still safe to eat? Could an errant virus droplet survive the Arctic freeze?
Good questions—and good material, too, for a service piece: “Can freezing food kill the coronavirus?” (Unlikely, BTW. A good scrubbing with soap and water is still your best defense.)
My hairdresser texted me specific instructions for my first hair appointment since lockdown began: Park in back. Wear a mask. Come alone.
I texted back the thumbs-up emoji, happy to have both an appointment and an idea for an op-ed piece: “Beauty Salons: The New Speakeasies.”
Couple of weeks ago, my husband and I hosted a virtual birthday party, complete with trivia games and surprise guests Zooming in.
Bam: “Parties during a pandemic. How to go all out when having to stay in.”
As writers, we can take our cue from Dorothy, who, after her own adventures in a storm-tossed world, reminded us about the value found in our own backyards.
So, the next time you’re looking for your next big story in 2020, remember: There’s no place like home sweet home.
BARBARA NEAL VARMA is a contributing writer to Orange Coast Magazine and has appeared in other notable publications, including The Atlantic. Her easy-humor personal essays have proven popular with readers, one gaining numerous hits on Orange Coast Magazine‘s website. (Hello: Desperately Seeking Donny.) You can learn more at BarbaraNealVarma.com.