I teach English, and I love all of the reading, writing and discussing my job requires. But teaching these days happens at a far more rapid pace than it once did. On the computer, one is required to check online grades, multiple e-mail accounts, class blogs, schedules of colleagues, minutes from meetings. Students can submit papers and journals online, so online grading must happen in addition to the on-paper grading. A teacher must check library and research websites, plagiarism software, and notecard generators.
In addition to all of this, one is still expected to do the pre-Internet stuff: create lesson plans, make class handouts, arrange meetings with students.
No surprise, then, that when I get home, my brain is tired, and the last thing I feel like doing is writing books. Writing should be fun, creative, spritely, but when my brain has been tasked to the limit, my spriteliness shrivels within me.
That's why weekends are so extra wonderful. Even if I have to bring work home, I can always claim a few hours on weekend days that are just mine, and that's when I can let my creativity flow.
If writing ceases to be fun and rewarding, then it's time to figure out a way to bring back the joy. Weekends help me do that; it's often in a Saturday morning shower that my shy ideas will start venturing back out, sensing that there might be time for them.
I welcome those ideas, and I love weekends as the counterpoint to my hard-thinking weeks.