Read at thespec.com.

Last night, I was plagued by zombie dreams. I don’t know how much of my all-night undead-a-thon was influenced by reading coronavirus updates, and how much was just my everyday tendency to dream about zombies, but I woke with a clear purpose. Rather than focusing on the real-world threat of COVID-19, I’ve decided to lighten the mood a little with another artist’s guide — to the zombie apocalypse!

I watch a lot of zombie movies, basically anything that isn’t too cringingly B-quality. (Side note: I’m wary of anyone who claims to love B movies. Who knows what else they’ll lie about?)

When I dream about zombies, the dreams generally aren’t scary — rather, they usually consist of totally unrelated social situations, and the zombies are just sort of there, milling around. Sometimes they try to attack, and I vanquish them like it’s regular, or I problem-solve to contain them or shut them out. On the rare occasion, there’s a pulse-spiking moment, as happened last night when Zombie Lois Griffin tried to bite me from behind, and the in-dream sensation of someone (albeit a cartoon someone) leaning in and breathing on the back of my neck was so realistic that it shocked me awake with a gentle snort.

Anyway, I’ve spent my share of time thinking strategically about the zombie apocalypse, and never more than during real-world viral outbreaks.

How would an artist approach a zombie world?

I wouldn’t call myself a survivalist. To survive a zombie apocalypse, I would have to get creative.

Strategy 1: Think like a plot master.

I think if you asked an average group of people what their first goal would be immediately following a zombie outbreak, many would cleverly state gathering supplies would top their lists.

Any writer with a grasp on plot lines will tell you that these people are eaten first. The character who secures reliable shelter while others panic and run around like zombie fodder will still find plenty of food and tools after the initial chaos has died down (literally). I mean, think about it. The mass of people looting frantically while the first wave of zombies is at its freshest and most spry is going to be thinned out pretty quickly, leaving most of the supplies untouched.

Strategy 2: Think outside the boards.

I don’t know where everyone’s getting all these wooden planks with which to board up their windows, but let’s be real. If zombies can break a window, they can probably break through a barrier of nailed-together wooden boards. What does this tell you? The wood isn’t really for strength, but for visual concealment.

Instead, my painter’s mind goes to — yes, exactly. Slap a few coats of black acrylic paint onto the insides of your windows, and you’ll have much more opaque window coverings than a bunch of planks with cracks between them.

What if you don’t have paint either, you ask? Well, you’re on your own.

Strategy 3: Think like a method actor.

Now, I’m not an actor by profession, but the arts tend to commingle quite a bit, and in this case, I can think of a pretty solid hybrid technique to combine painting skills with my first foray into serious method acting.

Start by painting yourself up like a zombie. Think, your best, prizewinning Halloween costume. Then, wander around your shelter moaning and tripping over things until you’re sufficiently confident that you’ve assimilated the thoughts, emotions and behaviours of a zombie. When you’re fully in character, go outside and join a zombie horde.

Best case scenario, you are then able to move about unharmed, giving you much greater access to supplies and the option of migrating. Worst case scenario, you get turned into a zombie.

At least you’ll already have gotten some practice.

Read at thespec.com.

Imagine the COVID-19 pandemic without social media.

Mere weeks ago, apps like Facebook were still a guilty pleasure. It was hip to deny the distraction of scrolling through other people’s trip photos on Instagram. Twitter was little more than a squash court for self-important crusaders.

COVID-19 has brought new importance to the connectivity social media provides us. I realize there are people who have never used it, and no amount of pandemic isolation will convert them. However, those who have used it reluctantly, raise your hand if you still think it’s a waste of time. Anyone?

Sharing posts about how we’re all coping with isolation and the extreme potential for boredom and mental health challenges is a great way to feel less secluded. Before the novel coronavirus, posting photos of one’s meals on Instagram was considered narcissistic and gratuitous, but now that many people have been forced to cook more, it’s become a wholesome way to share in our collective experience.

Social media also connects us in real time. In the absence of physical proximity, the video call has become the new family dinner, the new ladies’ wine night, the new gathering of friends. I’m an outgoing person, but I’m also an introvert who enjoys my space and independence, and yet I’ve found myself shooting out video calls to friends and family without reservation.

For a long time, I’ve appreciated social media for what it is: a series of platforms for engaging with others, whether personally or professionally. I have had countless conversations and arguments with those who have insisted it’s simply a waste of time, or even an unhealthy addiction. The current state of things is strong evidence in favour of my stance.

While there are potential pitfalls, social media is also a comfortable arena for the sharing of information. Especially during such challenging times, people tend to protect their mental states by opting out of reading, watching, or listening to the news. In rapidly developing situations such as viral outbreaks, important and even life-saving information can trickle down from news outlets and through the interconnected chambers of social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter.

Of course, there will always be false information that spreads like bushfire on parched land, but with so many eyes on newsfeeds, these reports seem to be pretty efficiently discovered as faulty or fictitious, further narrowing reliable resources on a given topic.

In pre-COVID times, the ability of social media to keep us informed was a questionable feature, but I’ve never before had so many discussions by Facebook Messenger on the state of the world, and each individual’s — and each household’s — thoughts, feelings, and boundaries relative to a world event.

Social media is keeping us all together — families, friends, communities, and even artists and their audiences.

One of the professional activities I depend on is reading to a roomful of people. When it comes to recording video media to share online, I’ve been dreading the inevitable for years. The thought of talking to nobody as though I were talking to somebody has always made me cringe, but with the limitations set by the pandemic, my perspective on creating and sharing video content has evolved. Whereas I previously thought of talking into a recording device as grossly self-congratulatory, I now view it as an essential way to reach people and contribute to global wellness through the celebration of literature.

And, of course, no small helping of sarcasm.