It is important to take breaks from writing, I’m told. However, since my writing production has been so terribly spotty the past few years, taking a break scares the hell out of me. What if the words don’t come back? What if I don’t finish?

The hubby was out of town all last week on a business trip and will have to leave again mid-afternoon today, so I promised myself a break to spend quality time. We had a lengthy phone conversation during his trip home in which we hammered out plans for Friday night, then toyed with the idea of spending Saturday driving in the winter sunshine before he went shopping for vintage golf equipment and maybe go to the range (which we did). Then we’d have dinner and watch a movie.

The moment he stepped into a golf store what did I do? I shuffled over to a shop next door and bought pens and a notebook. Then I sat in the car and wrote a poem… then I started reorganizing To Do Lists and writing schedules …

We got home, had dinner, couldn’t decide on a movie so we settled for TV and did some chores. Glamorous, right? Maybe not, but it was leisurely, quiet, and enjoyable. Hubs is early to bed and early to rise. Once he was asleep, what did I do? I read a story in Gaiman’s Trigger Warning, then I began to work on a scene from one of my stories. Yikes.

The good news is I didn’t take a step toward the manuscript file. And I have some really nice new pens.

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