The Unwanted Friend
I don’t know that I’ve ever completely finished a song. I’ve worked on a few thousand and gotten them to the point that they were performable, or recordable. But there’s often the gnawing sense that, with more time and the help of others, the song could be better, maybe even, on rare occasions, almost perfect. (Cue up, “Abandon Hope.”)
Scenario: Let’s say I’m booked to play a gathering three nights from now. It is a gathering to celebrate the 30th wedding anniversary of, pick some names, Todd and Susan. The gig is at 7:30 that night. So I begin writing a song for them. First draft, second, third, and so on. Change this chord; fix that lyric; sing the bridge a bit differently. Edit and rearrange. Play it for Dewayne so he can write out the keyboard part. All the while, the clock is ticking. And then 7:30 on gig day arrives. Win, lose, or draw, finished or not, zipped up tight or rough around the edges, I sing the song. And thank goodness, most every time, despite its imperfections, the song works. (Trade secret: people like to hear their names in songs. Please don’t tell anyone I said that.) . . . So, what’s that got to do with writing one’s first novel?
My point is this: the DEADLINE is your friend, especially if you’re your own boss, with no agent, editor, publishing house, or coach to set and enforce target dates. Unwanted perhaps but a friend just the same.
This is me speaking about me; maybe it doesn’t apply to you. If you think it doesn’t, it probably does. … Without deadlines, I’ve learned I’m prone to stall, procrastinate, deflect, wander. I am a master at finding something more important to do than finish that paragraph, that chapter, that verse. (“You know what,” I say to myself, “I should probably finish chapter 23 today, but I really need to change that lightbulb in the laundry room that burned out when Reagan was President. Dang, I need to do that right NOW.” Sound familiar? You do that too, don’t you?)
A reasonable deadline has the effect of an execution date, consistent with Mr. Twain’s observation, “Nothing so focuses the mind as the prospect of being hanged.”
The deadline forces completion.
It clarifies.
It might even inspire hope, “I can do this. It is within my power and discipline to hit the mark.”
The deadline is not inspiration but it can serve as a fence to keep inspiration from wandering off and getting lost in the weeds.
Even if it’s a soft target, arbitrary and movable, it helps me to have one or several [‘these chapters by this date, this draft by that date, completion by (drum roll)’]. I’ve also found it helpful to tell someone about my resolution and ask them to check on me from time to time. (That person: “Just calling to check on you. Have you made your deadline?” Me: “Not quite, but you know that lightbulb in the laundry room …”)
Don’t be the guy who said “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by.” Stay on task, allen Levi. You can do this.
7:30 is coming. Be ready to sing.