Meeting deadlines is as soothing to me as a creamy cup of flavoured coffee. Checking a project off of my mental to-do list settles me. Maybe it’s the rewards; the gifts I give myself of more time, kind words, a new pen, or other special treat that makes an upcoming deadline feel a bit like Christmas.
I love Christmas.
Maybe it’s just how my mind works. Deadlines mean I’m working towards a goal. Meeting them brings me one project, book, word, paper, or person closer to that goal. I don’t get particularly excited by finishing a project before the deadline. Like a regular cup of coffee, beating a deadline does nothing for my mood.
The rush I feel from meeting a deadline gives me something I need each and every time.
The theme for March’s Stories at the Storey was deadlines. When I started writing my creative nonfiction essay, I knew I was going to write about my passion for deadlines. Mentally I crafted sentences with dizzying lines to convey the sheer slivers of joy.
I could hear the words, picture myself reading them. I just couldn’t, when it came down to it, write them. Instead, what came out was a personal essay about I do’s and I can’ts; of exes and nos; of beginnings and endings. I planned to write about writing deadlines and instead wrote about living them.
Like deadlines, sharing true stories gives me something I need, even when I don’t know what that something is at the time.