Glorious Deadlines

Deadlines are like caramelized garlic and onions dripping in olive oil and served with a pinch of oregano. That is, I’ve discovered that, much like a double-decker deli sandwich heaped with the concoction, deadlines leave a wonderful residual quality—lingering, pungent elements sticking with me long after licking the last finger.

What’s so glorious about deadlines? Deadlines are glorious because…

1. Deadlines drive time faster. If Superman is faster than a speeding bullet, time on deadline leaves Superman in the dust. In a meeting last night, I found myself saying to those present, “Where did March go?” Someone responded, “Into the writing and creation of this project.” Well put.

2. Deadlines cause us to cherish free time. That’s because there’s so little of it. Yesterday, I decided to take a few hours and actually sit and read a book instead of write one (what a concept…especially on a Sunday afternoon, eh?). Just for fun, I devoured Patterson and Charbonnet's Sundays at Tiffany’s in one bite (that’s all the time I have for eating such delicacies). Knowing that I wouldn’t have another slice of time for at least a week, it made the experience delicious.

3. Deadlines bring us closer to others. The counter gal at Starbucks and I had a brilliant conversation on Saturday morning. No, really. It was honest, straightforward, even connecting. Makes me wonder how many of those brilliant conversations I miss out on, when not on deadline.

4. Deadlines raise our value of sleep. No argument here: Deprivation causes appreciation.

5. Deadlines drive us to perform or die. Something fantastical happens when we have to do it or lose. We actually produce. And, if there’s any hint of radiance in your work in progress, the gem comes out shining and dazzling…well, at least the core stone is discovered and dug out of the mud. No worries. We can cut and polish it up later.

6. Deadlines teach us about the value of immersion. “Immersion” means going down in. In our state of deep engagement, we’re baptized and submerged into our magically-developing idea. That idea plunges us into an amalgamation, a union of dreams and reality, a fusion within intense focus that pulls us aside, to the exclusion of all other moments. While in the eclipse behind our project, we engage in transit. Then, emerging from the intense baptism, we emerge—a physical creation in hand, born of internal, spiritual sweat. The intense effort pays, and pays big. Eventually. It will. Really.

7. Deadlines teach us about the value of emersion. Emersion is about rising out of—and is about you and me, rising out of our sea of ideas. In the heavens, emersion is the appearance of a heavenly body after being occluded, like the moon coming out from the shadow of the earth…and in our writing, emersion is the appearance of our work after the eclipse, the darkness, presenting a work finished and complete. It is only through immersion and emersion that authors and creators rise from obscurity or difficulties into success. Deadlines christen us into the whole process.

8. Deadlines drive and empower. And if we don’t take that attitude, sew it onto a flag, attach the flag to the tallest pole that we can find, and let that flag pop and ripple in the wind for all to see, then we’re truly missing out on the potential, the promise, and the empowerment of a deadline.

For fun (and for the tenth time), I watched the movie Alex and Emma last Friday night (a Rob Reiner must-see for writers). Granted, I don’t have two Cubans coming after me for cash, driving me to finish my book or die…but Luke Wilson and Kate Hudson’s characters have a way of bringing out sublime smiles that only writers can relate to.

And it’s those smiles that remind us that deadlines are indeed glorious.

'Till next time,
Erin

PS. Yes, I'm on deadline.