I love deadlines. I really, really do. I get things done when I have deadlines looming over my head. That is, I get manuscripts done. Everything else falls by the side, like discarded toys.
What I haven't done the last three weeks:
Read my letters - Oh, yes, I get lovely letters in the mail sometimes.
Answered messages on my phone. So if there's anyone out there who wants to get a hold of me, like an agent or a publisher, use my e-mail. It works. And I do read that.
Read a good book.
Read any book, good or bad.
Gone for walks and discovered Spring - outside my window there's still snow. So why bother, right?
Updated my blogs.
Been to the library.
Seen a movie - again, bad or good. No, that's wrong I did go to see The Fighter. Good movie, actually.
Done any useful research.
Called people - any people.
Gone to the hair-dresser. I'll qualify for the best scarecrow outfit if this goes on.
Left dry-cleaning with the dry-cleaner.
Forgotten about the loose buttons on my coat - right now four of them is sown with purple thread, one with white and the last with black.
Cleaned my windows - the birds are leaving "marks" all over the glass.
Slept more than five or six hours at night - I forget to keep track of time when I'm in a good writing space.
And why, you might ask, do I committ myself to this hermit-like state?
Rewriting two manuscripts at once. It's a foolish attempt, but then again, I can be pretty foolish. And right now, that works for me. This manuscript involves the two of us, and that makes it easier to not be stuck on a particular plot detail. This manuscript is finished, and was today copied on to the editors reading gadget to be read at leisure. Or at the lates after Easter. Which ever comes first.
I'm well into the next manuscript, but alas, there I'm on my own. On the other hand, it's way shorter, and a lot more finished, so there's not that much new writing, more like tweaking and pruning.
I seriously love my job ...