Douglas Adams, scriptwriter, essayist, humorist, satirist, dramatist, and author of The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, once said, "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."
But then on the other hand, according to Nolan Bushnell, who founded both Atari, Inc, and the Chuck E Cheese Pizza-Time Theaters chain, "The ultimate inspiration is the deadline."
So, there are those who can appreciate the structure of deadlines, and others who, like myself, tend to cower before their ominous and overwhelmingly irksome control of my time, and of me.
But, what happens when one's deadlines are all self-imposed? Might one might fall heir to "... needless shame and self-imposed disgrace," as cited in William Cowper's poem, titled Conversation.
Yes, one did ...
This blog began as a fairly rigidly paced biweekly post. At one point, I was cautioned to cut it back to once a week, so as not to burn myself out. It was good advice, though it tampered with my momentum.
Currently, any semblance of a deadline here is born of a feeble tugging in my heart, a tepid teasing at my mind, a faintly whispered longing, and then the screaming: "How long ago did I last post!?!"
A glance at my monthly calendar renders little clue as to why this blog is rather sporadic, because it doesn't show the occasional daily interruptions that are of little note. Untethered, this blog is afloat.
It was all too easily shoved aside while I worked on my next two books of poetry - soon to be released! - and while preparing for the Steamposium Convention in Seattle, Washington in September.
Even so, I've written an entire blog paragraph every day, and a few of them survived my edits! But, as Orson Welles said, "The enemy of art is the absence of limitations." Okay, okay ... I need a leash.
Image: susanmillard.wordpress.com
But then on the other hand, according to Nolan Bushnell, who founded both Atari, Inc, and the Chuck E Cheese Pizza-Time Theaters chain, "The ultimate inspiration is the deadline."
So, there are those who can appreciate the structure of deadlines, and others who, like myself, tend to cower before their ominous and overwhelmingly irksome control of my time, and of me.
But, what happens when one's deadlines are all self-imposed? Might one might fall heir to "... needless shame and self-imposed disgrace," as cited in William Cowper's poem, titled Conversation.
Yes, one did ...
This blog began as a fairly rigidly paced biweekly post. At one point, I was cautioned to cut it back to once a week, so as not to burn myself out. It was good advice, though it tampered with my momentum.
Currently, any semblance of a deadline here is born of a feeble tugging in my heart, a tepid teasing at my mind, a faintly whispered longing, and then the screaming: "How long ago did I last post!?!"
A glance at my monthly calendar renders little clue as to why this blog is rather sporadic, because it doesn't show the occasional daily interruptions that are of little note. Untethered, this blog is afloat.
It was all too easily shoved aside while I worked on my next two books of poetry - soon to be released! - and while preparing for the Steamposium Convention in Seattle, Washington in September.
Even so, I've written an entire blog paragraph every day, and a few of them survived my edits! But, as Orson Welles said, "The enemy of art is the absence of limitations." Okay, okay ... I need a leash.
Image: susanmillard.wordpress.com
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