The signs of deadline dementia

Ha!  It's that time of year again.  No, not spring.  Not even the end of the school year.  I have a deadline approaching.   I'm pushing a little harder this time, too, trying to get it in a tad early since I know May will be crazy with my son's graduation, working as a counselor at IMPROV camp, and getting a proposal together for a June 1 deadline.  I don't want to be stressing over this book when I need to keep moving forward.

Even if there wasn't the creative stress and physical and mental pressure of contractual responsiblity involved, I'd be able to tell I was beginning the final push toward finishing a manuscript and getting it sent in.  There are several distinctive signs.  Every writer's experience is different, and maybe it's similar for others pushing toward other kinds of deadlines besides finishing a book--but as I'm working on my 34th book, I'm beginning to see a pattern .

1.    The dust bunnies in my house are getting big enough for the dog to hide in. (and she's a 25 pounder)

2.    My shopping list has dwindled down to milk, cereal, frozen pizzas and the phrase, "Buy dinner or go fix it yourself, please."

3.     My Pepsi intake increases. (not enough to get jittery--I do try to be sensible--but I certainly feel the need to brush my teeth more often)

4.    My ability to hear the alarm and wake up in a functional mode decreases. (my family often thinks that asking the same question three times, "Do you need your band shirt cleaned for the concert tonight?" and nearsighted focus that has me bumping into closed doors are done for their entertainment pleasure)

5.    I address my son as Edward/Kincaid/A/Sawyer or whatever my current hero's name/nickname is.

6.    My hubby will say things to me over the dinner table (which he has fetched or prepared or wisely thanked me for if I fixed something quick/leftover/in the omelet family myself) and ask him to repeat it because picking up his tie from the cleaners had nothing to do with figuring out how my H/h will get out of the cave where they are trapped like sitting ducks while the bad guys are shooting at them.

7.    When my mother calls, she begins every conversation with, "I know you're busy, I'll only keep you a minute." (I actually welcome her calls as a mental health break, but she's business savvy and we'll curtail our usual long chats).

8.    A friend will call me on the phone and say, "Julie...?"  Nothing else.  By the time I recognize her voice, I also realize that I've forgotten a meeting and will immediately grab my purse and run to my car.

9.     I have 942 new emails in my Inbox.

10.   I work in my jammies until lunch (or my first Pepsi run of the day, or shortly before my son comes home from school).  When the creative juices are flowing...

That's a glimpse into a day in the life of my deadline-addled brain. I thought I'd better blog about this before I really go off on some nonsensical track.   After all, I've left my heroine in a blackout, and the creepy sounds in the empty building where she was working when the power cut out is probably her stalker closing in...

Have a good week reading and writing,

Julie 

AT YOUR COMMAND--Blaze, Jan. 08--Romantic Times Top Pick!
PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS--The Precinct: Brotherhood of the Badge mini-series--Intrigue, June 08--Romantic Times Top Pick!
www.juliemiller.org