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I ended up taking two days off instead of the one I had said I was going to (I was bloody tired after refereeing at the soccer tourney Saturday and Sunday). It’s almost easier to not take any time off.

Today, when I sat down to start writing, it took me about thirty minutes to get the thread of where I had been with the story, get an idea of where I had meant to go, and actually start.  Besides making it harder to get started again, the time off put me 2500-3500 words behind where I ‘should’ have been today.

While not worrying about writing for the weekend was nice (other than the daily journal), I don’t think it’s worth it if I have a project going that I’m actively working on.  It is too easy to lose the thread of where I was going with some point of the story.

I don’t know what this means, whether I’m just becoming obsessive-compulsive, forgetful in my old age and unable to retain an idea in my head, or needing more to write every day.  It could be any of the three. I’m hoping it’s the latter taking hold of me.  I have too few passions in my life. Something that drives me onward would be nice to have. Something that helps me get out of bed in the morning that isn’t a ‘have to’ – have to go to work, have to mow the lawn, have to, have to, have to.

Writing becoming a ‘need to’ or even better, a ‘want to’ would be a refreshing change.

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