I’ve spent my adult life living by deadlines. As an attorney, I could get away with just about anything except missing a deadline. That was the ultimate no-no. As a novelist, I still set deadlines and believe it’s important to meet them. It’s more fun to write when deeply inspired, but few authors would ever complete a book that way.
Having missed three weeks being sick, I’ve been playing catch up, pushing through to write. I am behind and the deadline is looming. It’s a lot of self-imposed pressure. And yet, I took the weekend off. I’d intended to take only one day off and spend it with my husband who wasn’t working yesterday either. But then his appointments cancelled for today and I decided to extend my respite. TWO days off in a row. A Saturday AND a Sunday. A weekend off!
We haven’t done anything earth-shattering. Cleaned the house. Got hair cuts. Ran errands. But we did those things together and I didn’t stress that I wasn’t writing (like I did every day while I was sick). It was a nice time to recharge, and I am grateful I took the opportunity. I’ve enjoyed it!