I find writing to be relaxing. If and when I find a couple of hours of quiet (most days I write amongst the noise) and I’ve managed amnesia toward most of life’s stresses, the act of writing is like a conversation with an old friend – the give and take, the ambling pace, the unexpected surprises of understanding.
It also has to do with the hypnosis that sets in, like that state you slip into when driving alone down the interstate for an hour or two. There is a loss of the marking of time that occurs as the characters stand up of the page and you join in with them, jotting down what they do and say.
This to me is relaxing, and it is rewarding. It is like watching great TV or film. But when you’re done you have a creative artifact that didn’t exist before.
What more can a couple of hours give?