I tried a little experiment over the Christmas break and have come up with a stark conclusion -
Writers just can't have holidays.
We all know the value of time off. Do something refreshingly different, have a rest, recharge the creative batteries, all that kind of thing.
So, for a few days I tried not to do any writing. I put away my laptop and decided to go out for walks, listen to music, read books...
And I failed within hours. Some new thought on how to improve a story I was working on would edge its way into my mind and just insist on being written, like the persistent little things do.
On Christmas Day itself, I had my biggest success, and even that wasn't great. I managed not to get the laptop out at all, but after a few hours of unwrapping presents and reading...
I was at my A4 notebook, jotting down ideas for a new story.
In fact, I couldn't even resist getting my pocket notebook out in the local pub to make sure I didn't forget a lovely quirk of characterisation I spotted there (how to eat a handful of roast potatoes at once - quite a trick.)
I did manage to take some photos of life around my beloved River Exe on one of my strolls, which is always uplifting -
Otherwise, my experiment in having a holiday failed magnificently.
But then, what did I expect? Writing isn't a job, it's a love thing, and you can never have a break from being in love.