- Joined
- Feb 19, 2008
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A while back, I took about a year-long break from writing. This was a first for me, since I wrote at least on a monthly basis since elementary school (for fun, not profit). I'd taken on a serious task, my first novel, and got freaked out about it. I put it in the back of the closet.
The year-long hiatus was a healthy thing for me. Although I worried for my neglected writing, I started exercising, I lost a ton of weight, I ate healthier, I was more social, and for once I could listen to a song or go to sleep without worrying about my characters or what would happen next.
It was nice. But I'm glad it passed.
I picked up my novel again, and finished it in a series of all-night frenzies, days of hermitage, constant thinking and planning. I'm happy I did it, and it's helped me to work on my present WIP.
But. The physical toll has become more than evident. Exercise? What's what? I've gained back every pound I lost with interest. I don't see my friends as often. I'm back to being moody and restless when I'm blocked.
In the longrun, it's all worth it for me. But it does suck that I can't seem to find a happy medium. My solution has been to light a few candles, throw on some comfy sweats, and just write and not worry about it. Which is great, until I have to wrestle into my jeans in the morning.
Anyone else feel the physical toll of their writing? Smokers? Dieters? Coffee addicts? Crabby moodswings? What-have-you.
The year-long hiatus was a healthy thing for me. Although I worried for my neglected writing, I started exercising, I lost a ton of weight, I ate healthier, I was more social, and for once I could listen to a song or go to sleep without worrying about my characters or what would happen next.
It was nice. But I'm glad it passed.
I picked up my novel again, and finished it in a series of all-night frenzies, days of hermitage, constant thinking and planning. I'm happy I did it, and it's helped me to work on my present WIP.
But. The physical toll has become more than evident. Exercise? What's what? I've gained back every pound I lost with interest. I don't see my friends as often. I'm back to being moody and restless when I'm blocked.
In the longrun, it's all worth it for me. But it does suck that I can't seem to find a happy medium. My solution has been to light a few candles, throw on some comfy sweats, and just write and not worry about it. Which is great, until I have to wrestle into my jeans in the morning.
Anyone else feel the physical toll of their writing? Smokers? Dieters? Coffee addicts? Crabby moodswings? What-have-you.
