I never met a deadline I didn’t like. Oh, I’ve chafed at a few, even cursed one or two; but for getting into gear there is nothing like a pressing deadline.
In school, I might have waited until the last minute to begin writing a term paper, but I always finished it in time. In work, I was a corporate ghost for years, writing annual reports and speeches and brochures and feature articles, all due on a certain date. I had to interview the subject involved, write the first draft, edit it and submit it on time so that the designer of the publication and the printer after him could meet imposed schedules too. I’m proud to say I never once missed a deadline.
I haven’t been in school for years and am no longer a pen for hire. External deadlines are fewer and farther between in my life. But what I’ve also noticed is that self-imposed deadlines don’t carry the same weight with me, which means my own efforts at writing often lay unfinished. So do my efforts at finishing other types of project. Currently a long-overdue afghan and tax preparation for our accountant come to mind.
All of this says something about me, although I’m not sure what. Am I undisciplined unless someone else sets the pace? Do I not take my own deadlines as seriously as those imposed on me by others? Am I outwardly controlled instead of inwardly directed?
I’ve analyzed this for years, but have never come to any conclusion or changed my behavior. And, even if I set a deadline by which to solve this conundrum, it’s probably bound to fail. Maybe I need to get someone else to set it for me.
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