In 2009 I published a book, two short stories, finished articles for an encyclopedia, completed a draft of a novel, submitted stories, wrote more stories. So, I decided to give myself a break in the last third of the year from serious writer type occupation.
But I haven't done it; I have kept plowing forward. And then, shame of all shame, I started writing yet another novel and am now at 10,000 words.
If life is something we chose to live, if it is free will and drive, then writing is compulsion. And as compulsions go, it is a harmless vice. Perhaps a break from it is not the proper thing. There is hardly a better feeling than the created world of words.
When one is writing, and hitting the mark , stirring the primordial pot where your ideas and inspiration reside, to ignore or suppress that impulse is not only ill advised, but can destroy the creative life.
So my break that was never a break is over. Something inside of me wants to find continued expression. I am going to let it take me where it wishes me to go.