Writing is such a gorgeous getaway.
I do some of it for my living (which isn’t boring, ‘cos I love watching fashion, if not wearing it), and the rest, for the pure joy of it.
Last evening I lugged my notes and my computer to a cute, strange-named restaurant downstairs with a yummylicious yet healthy menu. And got a lot done, a short story almost completed. Another done almost halfway, and I know where it is going… I worked a few lines into it yesterday. I’ve been thinking on the third one under progress, but not pushing it too hard. That one is a slow-blooming flower, can’t be rushed.
Since I don’t take my writing too seriously, it is a place to go to, to relax, and possibly even wallow in. I might become a full-time writer some day, but it shall never become the most important thing in my life. (Ouch, never say never!)
Writing everyday, without taking it like a chore, works for me.