After publicly declaring an end to grouchy Saturdays two weekends ago on my blog, I am adjusting to my new Saturday outlook. Last weekend, I promised myself an hour of writing time on Saturday morning, and not only made good on that promise, but felt better about my writing than I had in the many, many weeks where I'd beaten myself up for not working hard enough.
Yesterday, I didn't write at all, unless you count the critique session my sister and I held at the Starbucks at Barnes and Noble. Instead, I emailed a friend about a book proposal, met my husband for a brief and unsubtle Christmas gift hint session at a store that sells the Pandora bracelet that's on my list and bought a birthday gift for my brother-in-law (not at the same store). I had a vague feeling of guilt, but none of the self-flagellation that has typically accompanied my writing-less Saturdays.
I've always known that down time is necessary for my sanity, and although I've suspected it's also important to my writing process, it wasn't until I gave myself permission to take a break and re-adjust my schedule that I could feel the difference. I know I need to find nooks and crannies of time during the rest of the week to get that writing time in, but that's something I was already doing, and taking Saturdays off - at least some of the time - motivates me to keep doing it. In the end, for me at least, clear-headed composing beats enforced butt-in-chair-because-it's-Saturday writing, but the only way I could discover that was to step away from what I've always done and try something new.
What a concept.