Discipline and the Power of Deadlines

Or, Where's a Deadline When You Need One?

Confession: Every book I've written has been finished after I got a request from an editor or an agent. It wasn't a hard-and-fast calendar deadline – but someone was waiting for it, and it wouldn't look good if I took too long.

But what if there's no one out there waiting for your work? Or they don't need that work Right Now?

In addition to my fiction, I've branched out into the world of freelance journalism. I've produced somewhere around 200 articles in the past year and a half – because someone was waiting for them. And still, I fight the demon of procrastination.

I'll start promptly this morning, I say. After I have this cup of coffee with my husband. After I check my e-mail one more time (and this Yahoo headline about Crystal Bowersox). After I have another quick bite to eat, so I can focus. After I write this blog entry. (Yep, you caught me.)

I'll be EARLY on this deadline because if I am, I can have a free day tomorrow to goof off with no deadline hanging over my head.

Doesn't work. That deadline has to be hovering over me like the black shadow of the sword of Damocles before I really buckle down for hours of straight-ahead, non-distracted work.

I know several writers who are now blessed with contracts from publishers, and most of them admit to the same problem. After finishing their latest novel at a hard sprint, they vow to pace themselves better next time. If I start early, they tell themselves, I'll only have to write "X" number of pages a week. But even when they start early, the pace doesn't really pick up until that deadly sword is hanging low. Could be in the last month before that deadline ... could be the last two weeks.

I think the problem is, we writers are Creative Types. And I think the same part of our brains that makes us Creative Types also, perversely, makes us resist Creating until we're darn good and ready.

I've discovered, time and time again, that self-imposed deadlines aren't enough to make me more productive. They fall under that softer, smushier label called "goals." Goals make me feel guilty, make me aware I'm falling short, but so far, the ugly little buggers have never made me turn out a book according to schedule.

What I need, of course, is self-discipline. I looked up "self-discipline" on Dictionary.com (because I'm too lazy to get up and pull my dictionary off the shelf). It's defined as "discipline and training of oneself, usually for improvement." Doesn't tell me much I didn't know – but I find it interesting that the site says the word didn't originate until around 1830-1840.

"Discipline," on the other hand, appears to be a much older concept, dating back to 1175–1225. Two of the nine definitions sounded appropriate to me. One was "behavior and order maintained by training and control."

The other definition: "an instrument of punishment, esp. a whip or scourge, used in the practice of self-mortification or as an instrument of chastisement …"

With that thought in mind, I think I'll get to work.

The Time Sucker

I don't know about you, but my computer has tentacles that reach out and grab me by the face whenever I sit down to use it.

I wish I could tell you those tentacles belong to my Muse. That when I sit down, I create page after page of compelling prose, dragged forward by characters who won't let me go until they live happily ever after, or at least until the need for food drags me away from my chair before I fall over.

But this tentacled time sucker goes by another name, and I think you and I both know what it is.

The Internet.

This wonderful source of information and communication has a sinister dark side that most writers know all too well. Sit down to write? Better check my e-mail first. And my other two e-mail accounts. I'll reply to this one. Oh look, here's a link to a review of that new movie. And while I'm at it, I've been meaning to look up that familiar face I saw on a movie two weeks ago on IMDb (the Internet Movie Data Base, which really is a gold mine). Wonder who's on Facebook. And what's going on with my favorite blogs? Oh, and maybe I've gotten a reply to my reply....

(slurrp)

That's the sound of my face being sucked into the computer, along with a lot of my time and very possibly some of my brains.

For a person who often complains about not having enough time, I surrender a lot of it to this brain sucking beast. The thing is, unlike writing -- or doing the laundry or cleaning the house -- the Internet requires almost no effort. No discipline, no prep time, and hey, it'll only take a few minutes. (HA!!) Do monitors have cathode rays that lull us into a near-hypnotic state? Whatever it is, for me, it's way more addictive than channel-surfing.

Now that I've made a public confession, I feel a need to follow through and clean up my act. So here it is: I hereby limit my Internet hours. I'm going to shoot for nothing between 10 AM and 4 PM -- that's when those "quick checks" seem to gobble up the most of my time. 'Course, I'm breaking my own rules by posting this now, but after all, the rules are brand new. Watch me from here on out, and see if I can stick to my guns.

And the same goes for the Internet's wicked cousin, Spider Solitaire....