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Sometimes taking a break reminds us why we started in the first place.

A few weeks ago, I made a deal with myself: I would take a short break from my morning routine of writing for one hour.

The plan made sense: I have two events coming up that will give me feedback on how readers like my revisions. One is a review session an editor who is reading revised chapters of my book, and one is a writing conference at which 20 people will critique one chapter. (Does that send chills up your spine? Me too.) I’d worked hard for months to make both pieces the best I could. I’d take a break so I could come back armed with specific information and direction. If I kept writing in the meantime, I told myself, I might be wasting my time, only to find out readers have different ideas. So, I quit my daily habit on Oct. 1, with a plan to return to it Nov. 1 with fresh ideas and perspective.

Turns out it’s easy to fill that extra hour every day. Work has been busy, so I’ve used it to spend extra time on grading and work-related writing. Sometimes I use it to clean the house or catch up on emails. After a couple of weeks, my new routine had completely replaced my old one. If my writing routine ever crossed my mind, it brought a strange feeling of dread mixed with guilt. A wide gulf seemed to have grown inside me, with daily life on one side and writing on the other. I started hoping my editor would take a little longer getting back to me with her feedback. The writing conference didn’t seem as important.

My nightly ritual of reading went out the window with the writing. It seemed that if I filled one extra hour with work or house matters, filling two came much easier – there were always more dishes or laundry to do, or errands to run. Before long, I was wondering how I’d ever had time to keep those routines in the first place.

Months before, I’d planned a gathering at my house with some friends to talk about Colum McAnn’s Twist. McAnn is appearing at the upcoming Charleston Literary Festival (along with several other amazing writers – check it out). I’d read the book over the summer and had been excited to dive into the characters and themes. But as the event approached, I didn’t feel as motivated to talk about the book – it was just one more thing on my long list of to-dos. Sitting down to find reviews and public conversation about the book felt like a chore. I was a student reluctant to do her homework.

But one morning, I made myself do it. And two hours later, I looked up from my computer screen. I had the book beside me with sticky notes and annotations scribbled in the margins. I had three pages of my own notes and two reviews of the book printed, also marked up with my comments. My head was spinning and my blood was pumping. I was more than ready for the book talk; I was back in the world of concentration, connection, and discovery through words. I liked the book more having studied it, but I’d also found parts to question and sections that dragged or distracted. I felt like I’d taken a swim in the ocean, immersed for a time in a completely different world and emerging refreshed, different. What had ever possessed me to take a break from that?!

I ended my writing hiatus. I’ll be back at it this week.

We all have routines that we try to keep, that fill us up when we devote regular time to them. We might think of them as chores at the beginning, one more thing to fit into our schedule. But before long we start to notice how they make us feel lighter, or deeper, or more confident. Yours might be coffee with a friend, a dog walk, a scripture study, meditation, exercise, cooking, drawing, or gardening.

We all have seasons when we get kicked off those routines, because life just happens – we go on a vacation, or someone gets sick, or a sports season starts for a child, and on and on. Even when we take a planned break, we’re overlooking the cost of departure from that routine.

Routines are hard to build. The longer we keep at them and make them a regular part of our lives, the more benefit they deliver. But they’re also amazingly easy to lose; they can slip away without our even noticing. The longer we stay distanced, the further away and less important our routine starts to seem. We might forget why we started it in the first place, or worse, how it gives us energy and lights us up.

I think now, before the real momentum of the holiday season grabs us and takes us into another dimension, is a good time to think about our routines – what they’re made of and how highly we prioritize them. Think of the last time you felt bright, balanced, invigorated. What brought you there? Figure out what it is and make it a routine. If you’ve got it steadily going on already, hold on to it, even and especially when life gets busy and distractions abound.

So don’t email me or text me at 7:30 a.m. each day. I’ll be back at it.