The Slacker Makes Deadline

What a timely topic, writing pressure. Ten minutes ago, I clicked SEND on my fourth anthology for Cleis Press. My deadline was yesterday (June 1), so I was a day late. Even though I love how the book turned out, I am still royally pissed at myself for missing my deadline. I never miss deadlines. Well almost never, obviously. So now I will obsess over that one day delay that means the difference (to me) between being a professional writer/editor and a lazy slacker.

Then there's this column. I should have started it days ago, a week ago even. But here I am, two hours before midnight, writing the words I've had in my head since I saw the topic. (Well, not these words. I had actually intended to write my post much sooner.) Slacker, my brain hisses. Why are you so lazy?

The pressure I feel as a writer/editor is purely self-driven. I suppose if I was chronic about missing deadlines, the pressure would come from editors and publishers. (I desperately hope there isn't an editor out there who would truly nag me for being one day past deadline, but I can't take that chance.) Of course, much of my writing is on spec, so if I'm late enough the deadline slips by and no one cares-- but me.

While it's very, very rare for me to miss an expected deadline, I have missed many, many self-inflicted deadlines. Contests, anthologies, conferences, promotional opportunities-- I have missed them all many times. It requires a tremendous amount of discipline to be a freelancer, but I still don't have as much discipline as I should-- or as much as I would like. (Slacker, slacker, slacker!)

It's hard not to compare myself to my peers. Especially those who are more productive than me. (Which seems to be all of them, some days.) Author X has written three novels in the past year, Author Y submitted four stories, six poems, two essays and ran a marathon this week and Author Z just signed a ten-book contract.

Or so it feels, sometimes.

Meanwhile, there are times (like before I clicked SEND a few minutes ago), when I feel like I have over-extended myself. Signed on for too many projects, signed too many contracts, taken on too much responsibility, said "Yes!" to too many people for too many things. I look longingly at the open files on my computer-- stories that aren't contracted, novel ideas that have languished for years, essays that will probably never see publication because I'm not a "nonfiction" writer. And then I still say yes to the next interview opportunity that will suck up an hour of my time answering questions about my favorite authors and what music I listen to while writing. Or yes to the reading event almost five hours from my house that will require at least an overnight stay and cost me both money and time. Or yes to a deadline that conflicts with another deadline.

Should I say no? I don't think so. I want to believe every opportunity I say yes to is beneficial to my writing and editing career. Interviews are actually kind of fun and reading events can be mini-vacations to recharge my creative energy and agreeing to publishing deadlines means I have a contract in hand-- which is always a good thing. Or at least, I like to think all of these opportunities are good for me. Because I don't want to start resenting these things that take time away from my primary job of writing and editing. I want them to benefit me and fulfill me, not drain me. But still, it's hard sometimes to know what will be good for my career and what will just drive me crazy. I'm still learning. (And I have a hard time saying no.)

The highs and lows of this career are as often dictated by luck as talent. Right place, right time. Knowing so-and-so's critique partner whose editor is acquiring just the type of book you write. Running an ad, holding a giveaway, giving an interview, writing a guest blog post-- any one of those can put a writer's name in front of the right editor. But doing all those things-- juggling all those balls-- takes away from the actual writing. And so I feel the pressure intensely to balance it all; to write, to edit, to promote, to sell, sell, sell-- not just my stories or my books, but myself.

It's not a skill I've yet mastered, this pimping of myself. In fact, it's a skill I have struggled with for years, doing a sort of uncomfortable push-and-pull between the creative side of me that wants to live in the ivory tower and just focus on writing and editing and the practical, business-minded side of me (a side I do have, even if I resist and resent it) that says if I want to keep writing and editing, I'd better make sure people know just how fucking fabulous I am. Eek. Now that's conceited, isn't it?

Pressure. I thrive under pressure, usually. I work best under deadlines. Which reminds me of something a screenwriting professor shared with my class one night: "I had a student who told me he wrote best under the pressure of a deadline," Bob told us. "I assured him, 'I've read your work. Trust me, no you don't.'"

Ha. Am I the only writer squirming uncomfortably?

I will continue to struggle with meeting my self-imposed deadlines even while I vow never to miss another contracted deadline. In fact, due to my impending baby-birthing, I intend to submit my next anthology well before the September 1 deadline. I sort of have to, as my due date is September 4 and I believe this baby will be born at the end of August. I will loathe the sense of pressure weighting me down when I look at the clock ticking toward a new day while the words stall on the page-- just as I will continue to push the limits of deadlines and enjoy the rush of satisfaction I get from pushing the SEND button (or PUBLISH POST button) just in time.

Like... NOW!