On December 15th, my daughter will officially become a teenager. (Even as I was preparing to note how strange and wondrous an occasion this is, it dawned on me that only four years separate the age she is turning and the age I was when she was conceived. I may need a drink before continuing this writing session... not really, but Oh, my!) To mark this momentous birthday, I am making Samantha a quote book. I want to ensure that even when she cannot speak to me right away about an issue, or simply does not care to speak to me about an issue, that she will possess a source of “wisdom” that is easy to consult.
Her quote book is taking me a significant amount of time, simply because I am researching a great number of subjects on my quest to discover relevant quotes that ring of truth, compassion and humor whenever possible. In addition, I am backing all of the quotes in decorative paper, accenting the quotes with images and designing each page in a different theme. This time-taxing birthday present is proving to be far easier to produce than her Christmas present.
My girl is proving to be a deeply considerate and caring gift-giver. Last Christmas, she recorded herself reading the entirety of “Peter and the Starcatchers” (a fairly lengthy children’s novel) so that I could listen to her voice whenever we’re apart. I did the same for her when she was little when I recorded Roald Dahl’s “Matilda,” which she now has memorized as a result. Her returning this “favor” was undeniably precious.
When considering Samantha’s Christmas gift for this year, I wanted to give her something as thoughtful as the incredible gift she gave me last year. So, I am writing her a novel. I’ve had the story brewing in my head for some time now. It only seemed fitting that committing it to paper would prove to be a thoughtful and loving expression of how I feel about my incredible girl. And yet… turning the story into a Christmas present means that I am working under a hard deadline.
I work well under pressure and hard deadlines do not bother me in terms of my day job, my relationships or even in regards to most of my personal goals. But my own creative writing work does not “like” deadlines. How am I supposed to revise a million times and second-guess my work even more often than that when I’m under the wire?
As you can see, working under a hard deadline does have its benefits. I am compelled to get out of my own damn way, set my ego aside and simply create. I honestly cannot afford to hem and haw about whether or not the work is “good” because I am more concerned with having it done by Christmas than anything else.
And yet, that unexpected freedom comes with a price. My Samantha will love whatever I give her. She will appreciate the hundreds of hours it took me to write her a novel, just as she will appreciate the dozens and dozens of hours it took to create her quote book. However, I don’t want to give her just any novel. I want to create her something worth cherishing… not just because I put time into it and finished it on time, but because the story is lovely and well-executed. I cannot objectively tell at the moment whether my story fits either of those descriptions right now.
Putting myself under a creative deadline has lit a fire underneath me and compelled me to produce something I am determined to finish on time and present lovingly to my daughter. That is a phenomenal accomplishment for me, given that I am prone to drawing out the creative process and am similarly prone to never showing anyone my finished work. I am hoping that this feat overwhelms the fact that my focus on production and delivery is making me second-guess the quality of my storytelling.
Working creatively under a deadline is a little like training for a marathon. You do your best each time you put in the work in order to present your best performance on race day. But on race day (or Christmas Day, in this case) you are compelled to choose to simply be vulnerable, put yourself out for others to see and hope that your best is “enough” for yourself and for anyone you have dedicated your efforts to. Here’s hoping that my efforts will be just that for Samantha and for the inner creative critic within me who could really stand to lighten up from time to time.
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