Hi again, writer friends!
I realized a couple of weeks ago that I had entered into a toxic relationship with deadlines.
See, I’ve been a freelance journalist (and content writer and entrepreneur) for over twenty years. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned working with the likes of TIME, The New York Times, CNN, BBC, and more, it’s that editors who are on last-minute deadlines themselves have no leeway for writers who suddenly go missing in the middle of an assignment.
So, even though it sometimes came at the expense of my own needs, I prioritized deadlines. It was necessary, and it’s why my editors love me as much as they do.
In the last few years, however, a lot of my work is content and consultation. When I’ve done journalism, it’s features not news. The presses don’t have to stop because my story hasn’t been filed (ha!) And something became abundantly clear to me:
I am no longer available for the experience of a ticking clock and racing heart when I write.
The thing is, I’m a pretty diligent writer. I love what I do and I take ownership of it. I don’t need external deadlines or accountability to motivate me. I do this work because I’m called to it, because I love it. Left to my own devices, I’m likely to hand in things early rather than late.
But there are days when I wake up with my head in the clouds and I want to do nothing but journal and meditate and drink coffee and read, preferably on the beach. I don’t want to be a slave to deadlines—including my own. My highest value is freedom and I want to wake up every day and choose what I want to do rather than be dictated by external factors.
So, I made three promises to myself:
- I would work ahead on deadlines so that days off were available to me anytime.
- I would talk to certain clients about not having deadlines at all.
- If I woke up one day and my head was in the clouds, I would make apologies and honor my inner guidance over a non-essential deadline that doesn’t create stress for anyone.
The first part was difficult to begin with, but is now fairly simple. The second was far easier than expected—one of my clients who gave me two stories a week now simply assigns me a new one every time I file. I often end up doing three a week because I don’t feel constrained (win!)
And the third part is why I missed the last two newsletters.
Because every Thursday for the last two weeks, I woke up not wanting to write. The panic was back, the ticking clock. The pressure to meet an expectation I’ve set for myself.
I had a decision to make: Would I honor the promise and commitment I made, or would I let life, circumstances, external deadlines, and expectations be the excuse I use for not being true to myself? Again.
It was uncomfortable as hell, but I backed my belief.
I will never again stay up until 4 in the morning trying to hustle at the expense of myself.
It’s a promise I’ve made. And I intend to keep it.
Cheers,
Natasha