I’m on holiday. I have three days of no work, and then a week of less work after that. And I’m learning a lot about myself.
When I’m on holiday, my time is my own. What I choose to do is what I want to do, not what I must do.
I’ve read. I’ve bought new books to read. I’ve rewritten and edited my draft WIP. I’ve planned a new series (or rather, am planning a new series). I’ve played guitar and listened to lots of music. I’ve actually been social (shock, horror!) and talked about writing, imagination, and the sorry state of the world. I’ve reflected on my friend’s blog posts. I’ve written blog posts for this blog, and my new author site. I’ve played with (read as: annoyed) my cat. I’ve eaten soup, and spaghetti-on-toast (with cheese, obviously), and had lots of tea. I even had a glass of wine which helped with aforementioned planning. I’ve watched and have become a fan of Haven. I’ve even unpacked the vacuum cleaner, cleaned the house, and done the dishes.
So whenever I had that breakdown of, “OMG I don’t know what I want to do with my life!” I should’ve just gone on holiday.