I have never missed a deadline in my professional life. Indeed, I get obsessive about meeting deadlines. I am freakishly punctual and am afflicted with that old-fashioned notion that my word is my bond. If I tell you I will meet you at 6pm, I will be there at 6pm, no matter how many old ladies I need to run over on the way. If I tell you I will do a thing by a certain time, I will do it, no matter the cost to my personal sanity.
I like to think this makes me a reliable person. Somebody who is easy to work with, somebody who is trustworthy. I suppose on some level it does. But I am beginning to think my slavish devotion to meeting my scheduled deadlines and appointments is going to make my work suffer.
We pause now for a quote from Douglass Adams (please rise, doff your hats):
Though whimsical, I have long felt this quote to be not a little bit obnoxious. Then again, the quote also offers a degree of freedom that is terrifying to me. I need deadlines – I crave them. They are my best defense against procrastination and, in a world where they do not exist, writing novels seems truly daunting. I love deadlines, but for the opposite reasons that Adams seems to.
I’ve got a problem, though – a very immediate problem. I’ve got a book (book 4 of the Saga of the Redeemed, in case you’re interested) that’s due in January. It seems somewhat unlikely I’ll have it polished to the usual shine by that time. I mean, I’ll probably have a draft of some kind, but it will be a mess – storylines not fully managed, the length a bit unwieldy, etc.. I’ll be basically rewriting this entire novel (standing at about 123,000 words right now) in a matter of three weeks (over Christmas, no less!). That is, well…that’s crazy.
And just to throw more on top, I only just got the copyedits for Book 3 this past week. I’m teaching 4 university courses this semester, and we’re getting towards semester endgame – I’ve got papers to grade up to my eyeballs, and zero leeway on when I can get them back to students. How in blazes can I be expected to copyedit one 116,000 word novel, revise another 123,000 word novel, and get all my dayjob work done AND have all of it meet my standards?
Oh, and there’s a new baby in the house, too. No small amount of stress there, either.
Oh, and I’m designing a new curriculum for a course I’m teaching next semester. (Good God, what is wrong with me?)
If you want to know why I haven’t been posting here that much lately, this is why. I’ve managed to paralyze myself with obligations and have trebled my usual battery of deadlines. I don’t know that I can do it, at least not well. That worries me. I wonder what my publisher will think. I am, though, reminded of what Tim Powers once told me about deadlines:
Ask an editor which they will rather have: a book that’s on time, or a better book. They all would rather have the better book.
Then again, he’s Tim Powers. I’m not.
Then again, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. In every previous instance when I’ve been terrified of not making a deadline, I’ve made it and with time to spare. Maybe it will all be okay. Even more importantly, I need to realize that even if I don’t make the deadline, I’ll be okay, too. Especially if I communicate with my agent and editor well ahead of time (which I have so far), it will probably be okay. We’re all in this together; they all want me to succeed. I’ll be able to do this.
For those of you struggling through NaNoWriMo, I know that terror – that beat of the drum that says you might not make it. But you’ve got to remember – just like I need to remember – that a deadline is ultimately an arbitrary thing. Assuming you aren’t a journalist or somebody trying to defuse a bomb, it’s a tool more than a natural fact of life. There is writing after deadlines. It can be done. Sometimes it has to be done.
But that whooshing sound, man. Gives me the creeps.