D is for Deadlines

The clue's in the word, right. Deadlines.

As an author, there's no escaping them. Before I was published, in those carefree days before contracts, all I wanted was a deadline. Please someone make me finish this book by Easter. Couldn't you pressure me just a little bit? Proper writers had deadlines, and I wanted one too.

'Ooh, no. Sorry. Won't be able to make that lunch date. I have an urgent deadline.' It was up there with 'Speak to my agent' in terms of feeling 'proper'. It was a badge of honour. I was certain it would gain me entry to some kind of exclusive authorial club; make me exude special literary pheromones; have everyone believe I was a real writer. All it did was make me rush out and buy more dye to hide the extra grey hairs.

So everything's set out in black and white. The contract states that in, let's say, twelve months your publisher not unreasonably would like delivery of a clean, readable manuscript. That it has to be a well-edited, polished, exciting, flawless guaranteed bestseller doesn't add that much extra pressure does it?

How then, does twelve months - a whole year - suddenly seem like a couple of days? How does spring become August, and summer transform in the blink of an eye into Autumn? Damn those Christmas cards and tinsel! How dare they be put out in the shops before I've finished my book.

The wise thing to do would be to plan ahead. Set a certain number of words to write each month, week, day - whatever gets you towards your deadline in a steady, unflappy way. Trouble is, life happens. Kids need taking to the dentist or have days off school with tummy ache. People 'pop' in thinking, ah, she only works from home. She'll be glad of the company. Then there's the business side of things, accounts, phone calls, emails, and checking proofs of the previous book, maybe attending the odd event or two, speaking at libraries etc. All this eats away at time allocated to write. Not to mention actually having a day or so off at the weekend or spending time with the family. Working from home is fantastic for 'fitting things in' (however much I may grumble about distractions) but also it can lead to novel-exhaustion because work is always there. There's nothing like a couple of days off (or a bar of chocolate) to get the creative juices flowing again. But that's hard to achieve when there's a screaming deadline looming.

Anyway, the upshot is... my latest deadline for my new novel is January 09. At the time of writing this post, I have written exactly 92530 words out of around 120000 words. So I'm not doing too bad. There's no panic yet. By the end of October, I will have finished the first draft, leaving me three months for revisions and editing, although the school holidays sit like the Grand Canyon in my work schedule.

I'm pretty disciplined about my writing most days. I don't feel good if progress is slow. And I also don't feel good about writing if the house is a mess or there's no food in the fridge. However, seeing as this is usually the case and my family are pretty resourceful, this deadline-induced state of mayhem is tolerated. And when the book's done, it's always time for a spring-clean, whatever the time of year. I like to thoroughly muck out my office. Get sorted. Scrunch up all those chocolate wrappers and gather up all the dirty coffee cups. It's a cleansing ritual. Make way for the new idea.

There's nothing quite like the feeling of meeting a deadline (except I had to get an extension last time!) apart from meeting a deadline with a novel that your editor loves and believes readers will love too. That, I guess, is what keeps me chugging forward. What keeps me wanting to write - and I would, deadline or not.