I am a recovering binger. Not an alcoholic one or a drug one, maybe a chocolate one, but definitely a writing one.
In the old days (I am talking about most of my writing time until last year) I would spend one day doing nothing but write. Whole stories, whole plots planned. Go, go,go. I would write until my hand hurt, typed until the words started to blur, ripping out pages until most of the notebook was in a pile on the floor. Then nothing for the better part of a week. I might do a light edit but other than that it was a recovery until the next time. Then another outburst.
Things could not go on like that. I had two failed attempts at writing a novel, several stories half finished, jam packed with cliches and one dimensional characters. I was spending more time having writing fatigue. I finally found my self blocked, unable to think, unmotivated.
Now I try and sit down at least five evenings each week, maybe a few hours during the weekend and I will write. Smaller chunks than before, bigger chunks if I have a story desperate to be told. My writing has more of a routine. Motivation, determination are my friends. I am fighting any writing block with a punch. Sometimes I need a rest and I take them, promising myself to be back at the desk tomorrow or at least making jottings in the notebook.
I have had the most productive writing year, ever.