Just Write

Just Write

There are many reasons I decided to put up monthly blogs on this website.

Since beginning my career as an author, I’ve read, studied and listened and I’m keen to share my ideas around writing.

These blogs are a place to practice putting down words and reworking them until they make some kind of sense. Because of time constraints, I don’t put nearly as much effort into editing this work as I do with my books. Still, it is good to practice sorting deadwood from foliage.

The other real value to blogging is the discipline that it entails. I try hard to put together a piece every month. Since I’ve started there has only been one deadline that I’ve missed.

But what happens if the end of a month comes along, and I just don’t feel like writing anything? What if nothing seems to inspire me or appears worthy of words? What if I come down with Covid and have the worst flu like symptoms I can ever remember?

The easy answer is that sickness is a perfectly acceptable reason to take a month off. No need for a November blog this year.

The other course is to find something interesting about being sick and generally uninterested in the world.

A big part of writing entails looking at what is around you or what is inside your head and from this, putting together something that other people will want to read. It’s never an acceptable excuse for a writer to say that there is nothing worth writing about. The writer’s job is to see or to recognize the unusual and fascinating anywhere in existence.

What better challenge could there be for a writer than trying to write about not being interested in writing?

I do very little veterinary work anymore. I am no longer licensed to practise, and I have no drugs or equipment at home. My vet activity is limited to occasionally looking at the cows that my friend down the road has, giving tentative advice to neighbours about their pets and teaching one wildlife course.

Every year, I help with training on wildlife immobilization. Around twenty or twenty-five conservation officers and wildlife biologists come together to learn how to chemically control wildlife. This entails anything from tranquilizing moose who have wandered into a city to darting moose and caribou from a helicopter. The work is complex and dangerous, and everyone understands how important and serious the course is when we get together.

My father told me a long time ago if I wanted to be an expert on anything, I should find something that very few people do. Darting wildlife from a helicopter seemed to me a good choice. 

I love teaching these courses, but it seems this year the experience included a dose of Covid.

I’ve been careful throughout the pandemic. My wife and I have been vaccinated, avoided large crowds, and worn masks in public. I suppose it was inevitable that at some point I would be infected.

My novel VIRAL deals with a disease outbreak much worse than Covid, and living for over a year in the world of that novel (like all writers do) I’m grateful for how easily we got off with this pandemic. 

I’ve had symptoms worse than any flu I’ve ever experienced, but I’m quickly recovering. I have no regrets about the care I took before my infection. I’ll still wear a mask at large gatherings that aren’t limited to close friends and I’ll get vaccinated again at some time.

My training in veterinary epidemiology and the experience of writing VIRAL make me very aware of how much danger is still out there from COVID. It is very possible to be cautious and at the same time live our lives. And if nothing else, this pandemic gave me something to write about.