While conceptualizing my latest novel, tentatively titled “Proserpina’s Lie”, I decided to focus on the theme of tangibility. In a utopian future where mostly everything is digitized and machine-made, human-craft becomes something akin to those who enjoy analog things in our current times. Tangibility becomes the thread that connects the mind to the real world (though for the purposes of the novel this will be toyed with).
In an increasingly paperless society, we are coming less and less attached to analog things. And the convenience of digital cannot be understated. I can write my novel on my phone while lying in bed before I go to sleep, in secret while using the bathroom at work, at a restaurant while waiting for my food, the list goes on and on. Editing is easy and having multiple drafts is a matter of an extra click. Typing is faster than writing by hand and much easier to edit.
Yet, it seems like the best ideas come when there’s a pen in hand and a sheet of cream paper lined with turquoise grids. There’s romance in the sound of the pen on the paper and the tactile sensation of gliding strokes. Despite the ease of digital, the mind feels more connected to the things held and seen, tangible. I’ve noticed some of my friends sharing memes that harken to a “simpler” life, one closer to nature and free from the ails of urban life. Perhaps I go too far into assumptions, but what it seems like they miss is the tangibility of analog life.
This unusual year has put nearly all of my established coping methods to the test. Some worked, some didn’t work. No method proved true for every situation. Rather, I have to keep trying and hope this one time will bring me back to feeling somewhat normal. I’ve long noticed I feel more at peace when I am being mindful of my days and what I am doing; enjoying the process versus seeing as a chore. And some days I can’t bring myself to enjoy the process. Forcing it brings fatigue, not doing it brings fatigue, it becomes a cycle and harder to break free every time.
But what brings me back is tangibility. And from there, I can begin to find balance again.