Either someone in a workshop or one of the forums mentioned that Stephen King wrote everyday, even on Christmas Day. So I made like Stephen King and wrote on Christmas Day, believe it or not. Only 448 words, but still writing on Christmas Day. He probably got up early to do his, but I slept in (no kids coming in) and wrote later in the day. Even practiced interweaving the dreaded 'backstory' into those words. Of course, I don't consider myself the equivalent of Stephen King. We just use the same garden tools, but his garden flowers and yields spectacular results, whereas mine grows some mighty fine weeds.
I also started a new book yesterday by a British writer friend of mine. It is so difficult to read books these days because I catch myself dissecting every sentence instead of reading for fun. I hate that I've acquired such a nasty habit. My daughter told me recently that she would never want to be a writer if that is what happens. She says it ruins the joy of reading and she loves reading far too much to kill the joy. There was a day when I would have echoed her sentiments, but the joy of writing is sometimes orgasmic, so I'm sticking with it.