I may not have a lot of superpowers, but I know my strengths. I occasionally have the power to make famous people love me, but that’s hit-and-miss. HOWEVER, I can do a bang-on voice impersonation of my wee, late mother-in-law Celia’s Glasgow brogue. At family gatherings, she would say to me, “Kim! Do me!” Let no one say I am above cheap parlour tricks.

When she died, I stopped doing it for fear of hurting my husband. Sometimes we have to toot our own horns, and I am so good at it, that if he shut his eyes, it was like she was in the room. It wasn’t until years after she’d died that he asked me to start doing it again. It would have been a lovely, warm moment had we not been in the south of Crete at the time, and his request had not included my doing the accent while speaking Greek. Hey, I’m talented, but I’m not THAT talented.

I am also famous (in certain circles) for my flawless Victor Newman impersonation. I can do the patriarch of the Newman clan on The Young and the Restless with an eerie accuracy. I’ve been known to record GarageBand audio messages for my friends just to crack them up. I know. Who uses GarageBand any more? Cut me some slack.

I was an on-and-off (mostly on) watcher of Y&R from 1983 until 2013. That later year, I was zinging through a recorded episode when I opened a letter saying that I was not being asked back for a third year of my dream teaching job. The reasons are still cloudy. As far as I know, it had nothing to do with my performance, and the whole thing was a giant load of kak. Turned out for the best, though, as the exact week I’d have been sweltering in a Saskatchewan river valley and picking ticks out of my hair, I was able to go to Liverpool to see a giant puppet who made the writing of my sixth book, Nuala: A Fable possible. Take that, dream job!

As I was reading the letter and the tears were welling up (my teaching partner took it considerably better than I did), I glanced at the TV where Sharon was whining about something to Victor and I shut it off. Forever. For years I associated that profoundly sad moment with what was on the TV.

But then the other day, a decades-long Y&R friend texted me to say that they’d brought back an actor as a different character and I should check it out. What the hell? thought I. Remember Brad Carlton? Apparently, he’s back on the show as some dude called Bill Spencer. I understand he’s a Bold and the Beautiful character, but I’ve never seen a second of that show.

I figured it would be worth tuning in for a few episodes if I get to look at this glorious mug again. I said to my friend, “They’re counting on all the old-lady Brad fans like us to be DEAD, I guess, so they don’t have to worry about us not being able to suspend our disbelief in the notion that no one in Genoa City, Wisconsin RECOGNIZES BRAD CARLTON.”

So I watched an episode or two. That confirmed for me that I don’t miss the show at all and within about an hour and a half, I was caught up on everything I’d missed for the past eight years. It’s because this is the way the dialogue goes on that show:

Character A: “What’s wrong, Character F? Are you still upset because Character B and your husband Character C had an affair last year, and you only found out about it by overhearing a conversation between Characters D and E at the Only Coffee Shop in Town?”

Character F: “Yes.”

I have hereby renamed this show, Too Much Exposition Backwards “R” Us! So I got up to speed pretty quickly. I must have tuned into an exceptionally boring episode for my first foray back, as over the course of an hour, I saw a total of twelve characters in various scenes talking about fighting over the acquisition of a media company for their multi-national conglomerates. There was much standing across from one another over large office desks or sitting across from one another at even larger café tables. There were never more than three people in any given scene.

Then it dawned on me: they’re social distancing. This sent me down a rabbit hole of poorly written “articles” online about this very thing, and sure enough. Blow-up dolls replacing actors so that other actors can kiss them! Mannequins wrapped in bandages! Café tables long enough to play shuffleboard! I thought I was imagining it.

Like everything else, Y&R had to stop production and started showing “classic” episodes for a few months. I do regret missing some of those. I’d like to revisit one of Victor and Nikki’s six or seven marriages to each other, as the first episode I ever watched was their first wedding back in late 1983 or early 1984 (I think). I’ll likely look at a few. On Demand is the new... everything these days, and thank gawd for it, I say.

But the key thing I noticed about these new shows is that there is no coronavirus in the fictional city of Genoa City, Wisconsin (which isn’t fictional at all. It’s a very small town in that state, and one of my closest friends was BORN THERE).

THEY ARE IMMUNE.

In this city, it’s business as usual. Mergers and acquisitions. Newman Enterprises vs. Chancellor Industries. Summer is flying to Los Angeles, seemingly carefree. Why is Gloria Lauren’s new personal assistant? How much facial surgery has Nikki Newman had done? She actually looks her age, so I’m hoping none.

The key factor here is that THERE IS NO VIRUS. Not even an allusion toward it. This is escapist TV at its most pure. The producers and writers of this show have successfully removed all reference to the pandemic and are sailing along as though the world of the show is immune or unaware of it.

On one level, I appreciate this. They’re doing their best to give their viewers a covid-free hour every weekday. That’s noble. But at the same time, I can see the measures that are in place. Everything is stilted. The plots drag at a glacial pace. No one hugs, when Y&R has always been about hugs. People move out of the way when other people pass them. There are fake crowd noises in restaurants and cafés when it’s clear there’s no one else on set.

It’s a surreal combination of trying to get on with it while pretending the virus doesn’t exist.

I think what I’m getting at (though I’m not entirely sure) is that, as writers we needn’t address the present moment. I’m writing a sequel to my giant puppet novel, and you can bet yer sweet ass that there is no pandemic in it. I’m outside that world in this writing. You can be, too, if you want. I want to invite you to not succumb to the demand for pandemic literature if you don’t want to. If you have a story to tell that’s about something else, please for the love of gawd, write it and publish it. But if you want to write about it, please do. It’s not up to me to say what you’re supposed to be writing.

I applaud my favourite soap for deciding that the virus doesn't exist. I don’t buy it because I can see the safety measures they’re taking; they’re right there on the screen. But I appreciate it. It might make me watch a few episodes, and remember when life was simpler and we didn't have to worry about the annihilation of humanity. We could just worry about whether or not Victor and Nikki were going to get married. Again.

Extreme Soap Opera Editing!