I spent yesterday not really working.
Sunday is a lounge around day, either by the pool or cozy on the couch. The most important activity is reading. Sometimes I read books relevant to my work, sometimes I read fat novels filled with imagination and fancy that have nothing to do with my own genre. It’s my rest, my rejuvenation. And it works.
The morning after a reading marathon, I am inspired by ideas I did not know I had. Admittedly I’m also showing up the same time every morning and noodling around in journal wiring and, I admit, list making. But I am also allowing a day’s worth of observation and filling up to come back around through my own filters and experiences to inform my own work. It’s wonderful to have flow, and wonderful to figure out that what I need to do is to create that space and allow that space to happen.
The more we struggle and force every minute to be productive, or to look productive, the less authentic our work becomes and the more difficult it is to write.