A renewed compulsion had me rethinking, reworking, pruning, and punching up much of my earlier writing – the dozen unpublished novels; the genealogy research and narrative; several hundred poems, many of which had been published in literary quarterlies; and varied essays and journal entries. It hit with a vengeance, and was given extra clout at New England Yearly Meeting one August when, in a prayer circle, it was made clear to me that these labors are an exercise of talent, a gift, rather than a self-indulgence that had too often before stirred feelings of guilt.
For the first time in my life, I felt free to undertake this labor, the writing that does not pay the bills but somehow keeps me intellectually and artistically alive. What a blessing! (Never underestimate the power of prayer!)
Again, cleaning up these works and seeing them published may be one more way of bringing some closure to what too often seems a honeycombed life! Writing pulls so many of these threads together.
I began trying to set aside one free day each week as a no-automobile day, a kind of sabbath for writing, reading, or reflection; even with my usual three days off at the time (Sunday News worked a double shift every Saturday), achieving this goal became surprisingly difficult – but wonderfully rewarding when it did.
In some rich ways, it became a kind of retirement, even while being employed elsewhere full-time.
Jnana's Red Barn 
It’s wonderful that you honored the gift of your writing by setting aside time for it. I like the ways in which you framed it — as a sabbath, which acknowledged the sacredness of both the time and the activity, and then as a form of retirement in the midst of employment. Maybe if we thought of retirement more often in term of sabbath rather than in terms of reward we would approach it in ways that are more creative and healthy. Thank you for posting this.