What a word. Surely whoever made it up didn’t mean it.
After all a deadline represents a goal, an aim, an objective that needs to be met. It something you work towards. It’s not dead. It’s anything but.
Mine is February. February 29th. I gained a day this year. But for heavens sake, it’s not dead. It’s just not.
I’m on a high. Instead of making latkes for company I feel that the only thing that I should really be doing is writing. After NaNo and almost 1700 words a day (more towards the end – way more) 400 words, my current goal, really doesn’t seem like very much.
So now I’m thinking about the concept. Deadline. A straight line like when you’re dead. Like on those fancy machines that they have in the ICU and maybe not only in the ICU. And maybe not that fancy.
Right now that February 29th goal is still attainable. I can still finish a revised first draft of my manuscript by February 29th. My goal is within reach. It is attainable and I am excited.
I’m not thinking about the pain. About the horrible days. The ones when I write and write and write but nothing worth writing shows up on my paper. I’m not thinking about the days when the pestering voice within me says ‘stop pretending’. You’re not a writer. And the date is getting closer. And my work is becoming much more difficult because everything needs to work together.
And then it dawns on me. Deadlines are in fact due dates.
Duh? Like I didn’t know that. No. But I mean the due date of a pregnant woman.
Due date sound so much more positive than deadline, don’t you think?
For the pregnant woman the goal is to get that baby out. When you’re pregnant you don’t want to be overdue because that will certainly mean that you will be carrying for longer, that the baby is becoming heavier and that it will be that much harder to push out.
So I will work like a mad woman towards my due date. Because I don’t like the word deadline and because after February 29th my story will be that much harder to push out.
So February 29th, we will meet soon and I will be ready.