I've not been well the last ten days. I've run through a complete symptom list: nausea on Monday, headache on Tuesday, ear ache on Wednesday and so on. Because I've had a full teaching schedule I've ploughed on, hopefully not spreading my germs too widely (although if one particular student doesn't go down with the lurgy their immune system must be brilliant).
Now I'm just about coming out of it, but I'm tired and lacking energy. (BTW did I mention there's been quite a bit of Poor Little Me going on chez moi?) What with my cold and keeping on teaching, something had to give, and yesterday it was the blog; many apologies for its non-appearance.
But my writing has also taken a back seat. I've not touched the WIP for what seems like ages and I'm beginning to get worried that it somehow won't be there when I get back to it. There are reasons why I should take my own advice and write something every day....
On the other hand, there are also sometimes reasons why taking a few days off might actually be beneficial. At the moment, I've finished a draft and I'm about to embark on a new one. Having a time lapse helps get some distance so I can see the mistakes more clearly and, hopefully, know what to do to fix them.
And there are other times when being creative is impossible. I stopped completely after my father died; there was nothing there, no spark, no energy, no life. Major life upheavals occur, and only a machine could write their way through them.
Then there is laziness. Complacency. Denial. I'd like to lose a stone, but I also ate a whole tub of ice cream yesterday evening. It may have been my consolation prize for feeling grotty, but it doesn't get me nearer my end goal.
Writing doesn't write itself, more's the pity. No one else can judge whether you need a break or if it's just a touch of laziness but at some point writing has to be done if you want to get something written.