Write On, Colorado

We’re living in a historic time. 

Not this age, not this millennium, but right this minute. We haven’t been touched by a pandemic of this magnitude for more than 100 years, and as we incorporate social distancing — a phrase not in such common use just weeks ago — and face the potentially life-altering consequences of the coronavirus, we live in the knowledge that our world may look very different when the danger passes. 

Now, as so many of us live under near-quarantine conditions, working from home — or not working at all — while hoping to quash the march of COVID-19 across the country, we’re bound to find ourselves in moods of reflection, uncertainty and hope. There is much to contemplate. 

And so The Colorado Sun is asking all of you, anyone with the capacity and the willingness to commit your thoughts to print, to share your observations of the many aspects of this remarkable period. We’ll publish select pieces periodically — an ongoing time capsule of sorts — as we confront the challenges ahead of us.

Leading off will be Colorado author Laura Pritchett, a Colorado Book Awards winner who also teaches writing in the Master of Fine Arts program at Colorado Western University. Appropriately, she chose for her essay the importance of writing at a time like this.

In fact, we’ve adopted the title of her piece as the literary call to arms for our project. 

So if you feel the need for a therapeutic outlet, the desire to put thoughts to keyboard and tackle any pandemic-related topic — personal or societal — that reflects the tenor of these times, put your essay in an email and send it to kevin@coloradosun.com.

Include your name, address, phone number and a photo. Please limit submissions to 1,000 words.

The coronavirus pandemic is one of those rare, universally shared experiences — though its impacts will be as varied as our population. With Write On, Colorado, we hope to capture, in real time, snippets of what one day will be our history, through the eyes of our community.

See all of our Write On entries below or click here for the complete list.

• Coronavirus erased our internal calendar, but gardening provides the comfort of continuity
• Coronavirus demands death or change. So why can’t we unite against a common peril?
• The common refrain of “Wear a mask…” convinced me to respond with a prose poem
• Even a consummate gym rat needs some training help during the coronavirus
• Despite the coronavirus, I still have a garden. Party on!
• As some venture out despite the coronavirus, a critical question arises: Where to pee?
• The coronavirus wasn’t my problem. And then came the onset of symptoms.
• Coronavirus reading regression? It led me back to self-isolating Salinger — and Holden Caulfield.
• Kind of a poem, kind of a semi-fond remembrance. I wrote 2019 a letter.
• What will I remember about the time the coronavirus turned lives inside-out?
• My grandsons will cast lures and spin yarns about the season that didn’t get away
• During coronavirus we may be in instead of out, but at least we are in together
• Despite the coronavirus, a countdown brought our family time back to life
• We’re all a little puzzled by coronavirus — sometimes literally
• I learned about neighborly love from my grandmother. We’ll need it more than ever now.
• I typically express my fears and woes through fiction. Especially during coronavirus.
• I turned to poetry to capture both powerful and shattering moments from the coronavirus
• What my friends’ surprise prom taught me about coronavirus — and life
• Trapped in a laid-back paradise, my coronavirus anxiety still shone through
• As an introvert, I thought stay-at-home would be a breeze. Now I want out.
• Eventually, there will be “before” the coronavirus and “after.” After may come with benefits.
• I’m grateful my Colorado home is where I’ve had to “stay put” during coronavirus
• You’d be surprised the languages you can learn during the coronavirus shutdown
• From cleaning a skeleton to Rubik’s cube, coronavirus offers time for new experiences
• I ache for the 2020 high school and college seniors who missed graduation traditions
• After all these years, it took the coronavirus for me to befriend my parents
• Who knows when we’ll see live theater again. Meanwhile, we have virtual shows.
• During coronavirus, I’ve turned indolence into an art form. No more.
• I’m inspired by acts of love and sacrifice. But then there are our selfish tendencies.
• Despite coronavirus, I’ll continue to cultivate my garden — and the garden that is Colorado
• Luck and privilege let me dodge HIV in Denver. But viruses don’t care who you are.
• To quell the panic and anxiety of coronavirus, I seek survivor’s discipline and take note of details
• They say we’re not “out of the woods” yet. So let’s appreciate the coronavirus woods.
• The coronavirus helped us recognize that our differences are artificial
• I led a carefree, single life. Then along came the coronavirus — and Chevy.
• As we live our lives in “collapsed” spaces, we learn empathy and connection
• Coronavirus stole traditions and passages. But we can let love — and the moon — connect us.
• So many plans dissolved by coronavirus. But we gained a gift — adaptability.
• I never had a real pet. Then coronavirus made me a cat person.
• Will tomorrow ever look like yesterday? Or do we kiss “normal” goodbye?
• As coronavirus became reality in Colorado, I dealt with a different diagnosis — breast cancer
• Our family found routine during coronavirus. But we still needed to rediscover joy.
• I thought our family would dodge coronavirus. Then came the symptoms.
• For me, going for a run is a simple thing. But racism didn’t take a break during the pandemic.
• I watched love bloom over Zoom. Beautiful things still happen.
• I went on a terrifying journey — to the grocery store
• A brain injury took my sister’s identity. Still, she perseveres through a changed world.
• I’m lucky not to be quarantined alone, but wonder about those who are
• As coronavirus keeps us close to home, I see the patterns that run through our lives
• I thought I was launching a new chapter of my life. Now I must trust in the universe.
• If your work or personal life has shifted to videoconferencing, maybe you’ve felt this, too
• It seems time has slowed during coronavirus. And our persistence gets us — nowhere.
• Life will never go back to the way it was. And in some ways, it shouldn’t.
• The coronavirus makes green eggs and ham sound like something I could learn to like
• With no in-person class time during coronavirus, we’re losing much more than student achievement
• As an adult, I learned to cope with my lifelong anxiety. Now, my tactics fail me.
• Three things I learned about grief when my father died can help me through coronavirus
• Our reactions to coronavirus only give us the illusion of control
• How the coronavirus shutdown improved my daughter’s mental health
• I minimized and joked about coronavirus early on. Now I’m living the terrifying punchline.
• Looking at the shutdown by the numbers, there’s only 1 that I can be sure of
• While the world melts around me, I look to Colorado’s landscape for relief
• I sought refuge from the coronavirus shutdown in urban nature. Eventually, this poem emerged.
• I’ve discovered “Love in the Time of Corona,” and hope these special moments endure
• Here’s what I’ve realized about remote learning: It’s not remotely the same as the classroom
• Coronavirus has brought out the songwriter in me, and underscored the value of music
• It’s OK to bottom out during coronavirus, like the time I was the Easter bunny who cried
• What the destruction of my “Little Free Library” taught me
• My life is restrained, but not over
• The coronavirus is stealing our summer. Somehow we must reclaim it.
• Coronavirus gives us no space to grieve
• I’m staying at my co-parent’s house during the quarantine. It’s not as bad as you think.
• Stuck inside because of coronavirus, everything is a distraction
• How much did we lose when Colorado closed? I tried to capture that in photos.
• Here’s why I quit Facebook. And how the coronavirus brought me back.
• I survived SARS in China. The safety measures were many and strict.
• The way I  am handling coronavirus — and I’m sure everyone else is, too — is … interesting. To say the least.
• My poem in response to the pandemic turns attention to the natural antidote for woe
• Pandemic: A prose poem I wrote about finding ourselves in the middle of things
• A balky furnace and a dystopian novel helped put the coronavirus shutdown into perspective
• The coronavirus didn’t postpone our wedding. It multiplied it.
• On Easter morning, there was a historic opportunity. I grabbed my camera and walked the Denver streets.
• To my son: You’ve taught me so much about learning to live in the spaces in-between
• Our borders are useless against coronavirus. We are all equal before it.
• With life on hold, I packed up my RV and hurried home to Colorado
• The coronavirus detoured my childhood dream of moving to New York
• Life under the coronavirus shutdown is strange. But it’s also oddly inspiring.
• For brief while, the sudden spring snow made our changed world seem normal
• In three poems, my thoughts moved from harsh realities to comforting fantasy
• I endured the shutdown in Shanghai. As things returned to normal, I felt profound relief.
• At first it was an annoying, early morning noise. Now it’s a life-affirming response to the shutdown.
• In these stay-at-home days, I’m lonely but not alone. I have my thoughts, my routine — and the spiders.
• Of whoopie pies and wilderness, and how isolation robbed me of my ability to focus
• We’ve gotten creative with connecting virtually. My cartoon potato friends are proof.
• These days, so common a task as grocery shopping leaves its unique mark on poetry
• It feels weird to wear a mask in public. But it could help save my husband’s life.
• As a college student, I’ve led a pretty privileged life. Coronavirus awakened me.
• The things I tell my cats in social isolation
• My documentary work with cancer patients also taught me about dealing with the challenge of COVID-19
• This poem I wrote after the rising of the pink moon and one of our terrible nights of so many dead