People often ask me “how do I get unstuck and write something?” They also ask me: “What should I write about?” The answer lies in one of the best jobs I ever had. I had to write a weekly politics column for an alternative newspaper.
Why? Because it gave me a firm weekly deadline. Not a “try to get it to me by early next week” deadline. I mean a doozy. If I didn’t write my column by Tuesday night at six p.m. the paper would go to print with a blank space under my face. It was a job with the kind of pressure that gives some people nightmares. The pay was bad, and I miss it. I was aware at the time it was the best job in the world for me.
I’d have about two hours to write 650 words. I’d have to do it after we’d sent the news section to proof on a Tuesday morning. Depending on how reliable my team of reporters were that week, I may have also had to help them do their jobs a bit too. That may have meant the news section didn’t get signed off for print until the middle of Tuesday afternoon. Often there were last-minute rewrites to catch up with late-breaking news. The fastest I ever wrote my column was in eight minutes.
To begin with, the pressure took its toll. I had panic attacks. I drank too much. I smoked too many cigarettes. But after a while I found a groove and quit relying on the stress crutches. To my amazement I acquired a remarkable confidence instead. It came with discovery of a French phrase. “La nuit porte conseil.” It means the night brings counsel. Or it means the night brings guidance and answers.
You might go to sleep on a Monday night worried. But there was no need. Because in the morning as the deadline loomed, your brain did the work for you. I never once woke up on Tuesday without a solid idea to run past my editor. I realized I could sleep better, and the ideas got better because of my calmer state. I learned to trust my ability to do this thing.
When I started my communications consulting business in late 2019, I built a website. I also started sending out a weekly newsletter. It goes at 1045 on Wednesday mornings, and this is the blog version. I don’t miss a week because I know hitting deadlines builds a specific muscle. If I allow myself off the hook one week, then I’ll get weaker. It’ll be harder to get back to the gym the following week. The deadline is my gift to myself. It’s also the thing I do best and by writing on a weekly basis for you, I get to show my highest value.
It’s ironic to be writing this specific blog post/newsletter about the value of a deadline for writing. I’m aware of that. And yet the idea did come to me on Monday evening as I was drifting off to sleep. I knew that when I woke up on Tuesday it would be easy to write. I smiled as I fell asleep. I had a whole 36 hours to get it done. I’ve gone soft in middle age. I do crave the old eight-minute rigor. I do miss my youthful confidence. I often think about getting another job somewhere as a columnist. But there are a lot of other people with the same idea. We also have a nine-month-old baby and I value my ability to focus on him and his mum.
A deadline also forces you to confront the things you shouldn’t write. It’s an editor. It’s never a good idea to write, for example, because you want to be important. Egotistical motivations give a hollow ring to your words. David Lynch does transcendental meditation to “catch the big fish” before he writes. It’s the idea that swims beneath the currents of the others. The one that grabs you and runs away. You must be brave and patient if you want to catch it. You must let the smaller fish swim past. A big fish might even swim past before an even bigger fish does. You must have confidence that there are even bigger fish out there. You must play chicken with the deadline on this score. It’s a glorious balancing act and for me it is the essence of being alive.
Good writing is a lot like meditation. It’s like playing a sport you love or a musical instrument. You want to begin with poise and feel relaxed. You can’t force it. You must trust that your practice and experience will pay off. You must let the game, or the piece of music, show you what they have to say. In that way it’s better to give yourself more deadlines as your confidence grows. Like Omicron writing to deadlines is infectious and I hope you’ll join me in catching the better bug.
Better yet, what’s the point of writing, for you, in 100 words? You’ve got 24 hours to regale my inbox with it. I hope the possibility of such a deadline is exciting. Imagine if you met it! And not to worry. La nuit will porte its conseil. So, you’ll have it down by tomorrow morning. Have confidence and “au revoir”, for now, mon ami.
