weekend shenanigans

Last weekend, Don came up with the good idea of taking the weekends off from writing. 

It was really great.  I used to only write five days a week, but then something happened and I found myself writing six and then seven days a week unless I had company, or my business affairs needed tending, or my grown children came into town.  Other than those exceptions, and obviously if we were on vacation, the writing-seven-days-a week thing had stuck. (Actually, I generally cart my computer with me on vacations as well.  Aren’t you glad you aren’t married to me?) 

Anyway, the writing was taking over my life and it was beginning to feel like a demanding child that could never be satisfied or full.  It didn’t matter how much time and energy and love I poured into it, it was never enough.  I always was coming up short. 

So, it was absolutely lovely to have a whole weekend of freedom where I didn’t have the manuscript shouting at me, or stubbornly resisting my attempts to comb her hair.  It was sheer unadulterated bliss.

This week, however, I had to miss two days of writing because of errand and business things to do with life and bills and getting my boy ready for school, so when this morning rolled around and I informed Don that I was sorry but I had to write today.  I could tell that I wasn’t playing by the taking-the-weekends-off rule, but I didn’t care if he was disappointed and hid it well.  I needed to write.

Which is the brilliant thing about taking some time off.  Is that instead of writing being a tyranny, and being forced to march my tired, sludge -like brain into my writing room, day in and day out.  I felt a guilty pleasure about sneaking myself off to write. 

I didn’t put in the full hours that I do on a writing day, but I have to say, I quite enjoyed my clandestine meeting with the page.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, August 30, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

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