But the problem in the morning for us – as now for you in your home imprisonment – is getting from doubt to euphoria. And we know how to do that. Only begin.

Writers generally have some little rituals that help them get started. Every morning you do A, then B, then C, often messing around with paper and pens and then begin the sentence. On a merciful morning it takes no more than a paragraph to revivify us.

One of my methods, part of my A,B,C, can be looking at the easier clues in a crossword, but you have to be sure the crossword doesn’t take you till 11am. Mind you, it is also true, I have found, just to spend time with the manuscript in the same room, with it nagging and teasing at you, produces results.

In any case, fellow citizens, good luck with working in isolation, good luck with having epiphanies about new directions for old grades, and for all of those who are waiting for the JobKeeper stuff to kick in, may it flow more promptly than the bushfire relief. This lazy old A,B,C writer sends the wish you are fortunate in all things. Easy to say, but it’s the answer: Only begin.

*This week’s rap nursery rhyme comes from the days of eating on the way to work.

ARACHNOPHOBIA (Little Miss Muffet)

This Missie Muffet, corporate chick,

Had stacked on weight,

So gave meat the flick.

She lived on yoghurt, curds and whey,

For all her meals, day after day.

Saved from additives and poli-fat –

See that pole? She was thinner than that!

’Cross the counter one day in her yoghurt place,

A funnel-web spider crawled a-pace,

And jumpin’ on her, bit her face.

The anti-venene saved her life,

But she dumped dairy products for the fork and knife.

Now at 130 kilos, and plump and hearty,

She eats like a sow at every party.

‘‘The spider taught me how to grin.

There’s better things than bein’ thin.’’

Yet she admits arachno-phobia,

Will make a globe-o’-yah.

This column is supported by the Copyright Agency's Cultural Fund and the Judith Neilson Institute for Journalism and Ideas.