The priority is writing which is valuable in itself, as opposed to working with the manner of hoping to be taken up into some industrial application of the writing. If everything were to vanish overnight, the work would still be not merely a good thing, but a mechanism expressing a necessary manner of thinking, for which the text is more residuum and source than substance.
It's a scene study class, not an audition monologue. And in the city, you can go for years sustaining the work in a good scene study class.
The peril is that of the parable of the buried talent, safeguarded through the period of difficulty. But, much like the scene study class, only by preserving the ability to think and write does that thing continue to exist in the world every day, and keep the possibility of making things arise, should the opening appear.
But making text, perhaps much more text, must definitely be the order of the day. While continuing the pace of reading and annotation. Like Aquinas dictating treatises as he attended to household matters. Adorno, Auerbach and Benjamin teach this -- from their situations, when the public world was very much against the type of person that they were.
If the Blessed Virgin were to appear, and ask me if I was happy, I would point to the work that I was doing and indicate that it was necessarily my happiness to survive in this manner. Less Faust's "Stay, thou art so fair..." than a figure in El Greco's vision of changing light, attempting to remain conscious of it, as opposed to slipping back into the oblivion of life without understanding or perception.