Nearly twenty years ago now, when I worked in an office and was paying off student loans and had no money for holidays, I used to sign out a laptop for a long weekend, or even a week, and stay home to work on a novel. And that is what I was supposed to be doing all of this month, but one day in I've been slaving over knitting patterns instead, until my eyes smart.
My sudden passion to create hats seems strange even to me, although there is a symmetry and depth of thought involved that is not so different from constructing a story. Plus, you know, they keep your head warm a lot more effectively than a book can keep your head dry in a rainstorm... and it is creative, and for all I know I'd be spending the month staring at an empty Word document.
Still, I feel guilty about not writing, and that is a very non-vacation-y thing. I'm going to give it one more day, and if I'm still not pleased with myself come Monday, I will head over to the coffeeshop/second office and see what I can make of the story that was coming along so nicely in the spring.