THE WALL - or - Fluffy Bunnies and the Art of Deadlines.
By David Niall Wilson
Deadlines. Did you ever wonder why they call them that? Dictionary.com tells me it’s the boundary beyond which a prisoner should not pass unless he wants to risk being shot. That would be an example of old-school deadlines. These days I live a life full of self-imposed, work-imposed and by various means implied deadlines that would probably drive your average prisoner to step across the boundary and take his chances with the afterlife. That is normal, and I’ve accepted it. What I’ve discovered (much to my chagrin) is that I am NOT a miracle worker, and, in point of fact, cannot fly or jump buildings very effectively.
As a writer, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with deadlines for many years. Usually, they are my friends. I don’t really require close supervision to get a project completed, but if I don’t impose goals and deadlines on the work myself, I may allow things to build up until I have to rush through in a manic, caffeine-fueled haze, and this is not conducive to achieving excellence. I try to keep a close eye on days remaining, and words remaining, applying those well-honed college algebra skills I spent the winter acquiring, so that I know about how far I should be into a project by a certain point. This allows me to guess with at least a modicum of accuracy how many new projects (and of what length) I can take on in a given period and still sleep, eat, and interact with humanity.
The point of this essay, of course, is that it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes deadlines are set for you and you have the choice to either cowboy-the-heck-up or fail. Sometimes, despite the best intentions, you take on too much work and implode as you keep promising to do it all and flailing madly at the keys in the hope that some miracle will turn your words into small rabbits that multiply faster than you can think. It’s not going to happen, of course, but if you are failing anyway, you might as well dream about fluffy bunnies.
There is a proverbial barrier called “the wall” that people talk about occasionally. Sometimes they are talking about physical endurance, sometimes it’s depression, other times it’s just there and you can’t really define it. I want you all to know that, whether you’ve hit it or not, that freaking wall is there. I know because I’ve brushed it a few times in the past, and this winter I hit it head on. It’s clear, you see? - or don’t, actually — it’s transparent. You know there’s the possibility it’s out there, but like smoking under a lung cancer sign, or driving with your eyes closed, you can ignore it right up to the point of impact - even to the point of not believing in its existence.
For the record, writing, full-time work, college, and a family are too many things to juggle at high speed for very long. I tried, and the writing (eventually) dribbled off to nothing. I kept myself sane with this journal - and my own Deep Blue Journal - but my creative wells were closed for repairs. Deadlines meant nothing to me because what difference does it make what or when the deadline is if you know up front you can’t possibly meet it? If you are on thin ice, you might as well dance…if you are failing; you might as well day-dream about fluffy bunnies typing. Eternal laws of the universe.
I bring this up now because I’m just reinventing my schedule. Deadlines are taking on actual meaning again, and every hare and hair is receding, which is how it should be (or at least how it has been for many years now). To get myself back in shape (and to scrape an unnamed buddy off the wall) I’ve recently tackled a nearly insane deadline. I haven’t met it yet, but it’s looking good (of course, Trish is helping). Another project (a screenplay) that has been due for two months has progressed swiftly and will be in rough draft form by this weekend. Projects are lining up and I’m knocking them down. I realized this morning that I have committed myself blithely to a novella, a novelette, and at least two short stories by the end of the summer, not to mention a non-fiction book I’ve been working on…and other projects. It feels good, but now I watch the woods with a wary eye, because I know it’s out there - lurking - the bane of deadlines…
The wall.
I’ve gained a new respect for its existence, and I’ve added it to the algorithm of my life. Others can tell you that in the past I would have tackled a year-long schedule of a novel a month if I had a reasonable idea I’d sell them all…and to a point, I’m still that way, but quality over quantity has always been important, and sometimes you just have to put on the brakes - line it all up and give it a once over before you say “sure, I can do that” to the next big project.
Believe me - as pleasant as fluffy bunnies are, you don’t want to be contemplating them for any length of time. Set deadlines that make sense, commit to nothing you can’t reasonably expect to complete - and avoid the wall at all costs.
This has been a public service message from a recently glass-scraped writer who still has bunny fuzz clogging his ears.
Onward!
DNW
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Comments
All walls seem to be bad in the context of collision - it would make a good slogan for Nascar drivers and Humpty Dumpty as well…it just makes sense…:)
DNW
I’m not sure how you avoid that wall. You can’t see, smell, touch, hear, or taste it, yet it’s there. Something mental. When you least expect it, it slams you, then everything stops. Deadlines be damned. Nothing you do–if you have the inclination to do anything at all–is any good. But, thing is, unless you keep banging your head against it, there’s no way to get through, over, around, under it.
Good piece. Thanks for the thought provoking read.
Frank
Dear Bunny-Fuzz –
I’ve seen you pull yourself out of a hat more than a few times. Me, I just don’t want to write any dead lines. Excellence. Quality. Perfection. Always the only acceptable standard. I don’t think quantity counts if it isn’t spent on quality, does it? Not for me, anyway. A deadline reached without the best product you’ve got in you hasn’t been reached at all. That’s wasted. Like not showing up for life. I owe something — a Creator, the muse, faith with what I am — a better outcome than that. Not saying deadlines aren’t important. They are. You can procrastinate away the same opportunity for quality I was talking about. Still, the deadline is meaningless if you don’t deliver your best. Hop to it, Bunny-Fuzz. You always deliver your best with the honesty and courage of a perfectionist who, because of those qualities, will never stop growing.
– Sully (Thomas Sullivan)
I’ve hit the wall, stuck to it and slid slowly down it. It was by way of overloading rather than procrastination, but it still smarted.
Thoughtful and useful piece, David.
RCJ
What Dave and Sully said.
Good piece, Dave. Some writers are so grateful if they are given deadlines, and eager to capitalize on them, that they take on too much. Yes, you have to be cautious and remember that those fluffy bunnies might not reproduce the way they should. What does it avail a writer if he gains the whole world but produces only fluff?
Great essay! I love deadlines and have rarely (knock on wood) had too many at once. In fact, I like deadlines because, like an artist friend of mine who can’t ever seem to finish a painting (she is quite anal), I could tweak and tweak and tweak until the cows come home. But I do know that wall, and I’ve seen those fluffy bunnies!
Beth
Good essay, Dave. “…avoid the wall at all costs.”
Excellent advice, not only for writers. I’m thinking bumper sticker. –Janet