For the last month or so I haven’t been writing on the weekends, keeping them exclusively for cleaning, any publishing-related work, and generally relaxing and enjoying myself. And for the last month or so I’ve found that I’m generally happier and not feeling like I’m on some endless treadmill with no break in sight.

This weekend, however, I’ve been working on Shifter Woods: Claw and I can notice the difference. This doesn’t feel like a weekend evening to me; it feels like just another work day. I haven’t slept all that well and I’m achy from so much time in the chair. Moreover, I’m annoyed that I haven’t had a chance to do the cleaning and yard work I wanted to do this weekend.

And goddamn it, I’m in my mid-fifties. I’m not some hotshot twentysomething anymore who can write for 24 hours straight, grab a couple hours’ sleep, and head off to do something else. I need breaks, and water, and crafting, and two days where I don’t have to think about the WIP currently waiting for me in Scrivener.

So from now on I’m not writing on the weekends anymore unless I’m on an absolutely vital deadline. I’ll have to bump up my output during the week a skosh, but I think I can do that without wrecking myself. And next weekend, I am pruning back all that damned lantana come hell or high water. *nods firmly*