My post here a week or so ago about meeting deadlines evoked a great deal of response…and a few curious ones. I received one vituperative message from a comic book writer I barely know who thought (a) I was lecturing him in particular and (b) I was advising all to "Hand in crap if you have to but meet the deadline." I dunno where he got any of that. He also seemed to think I was a devout reader, and therefore admirer or his work. Wrong again. I don't think I've ever read anything the guy's written…and if he writes like he reads, I'm not missing much.
I also got an odd message from someone who thought I was just echoing what publishers and editors and producers always tell writers because it serves the interests of Management. Well, yes, it probably does serve their interests when the work is in on time. The point I was trying to make is that it serves the writer's interests, as well. If you wish to get offered more opportunities — and if you wish to have more clout and control on the projects you do undertake — get the damned pages in on time. If you're not going to do it for those who pay you or collaborate with you, do it for your own benefit…because there's plenty.
The wondrous Colleen Doran wasn't wild about my comparison between a writer (or artist) meeting deadlines and Sir Laurence Olivier always being ready to go on stage when the curtain goes up. She wrote, "It is one thing to show up and perform in a play that runs two hours. It is another thing to draw the cast of thousands the writer gave you to draw in the same time frame as a pinup." She's right to some extent and I should have noted that meeting deadlines may also involve saying, of some assignment, "Sorry…it's not humanly possible for me to get that piece of work done in the allotted time." Of course, the time to say that is before you agree to do it in the allotted time.
One of the things I've learned about time management, not just in work but in life, is that it's important to develop a realistic sense of how long things take, especially if you back-time. Back-timing (and this can be dangerous) means that you decide you can write the script, which is due on the 10th, in two days…and then you put indulgences or other, less time-sensitive tasks ahead of it and don't start 'til the 8th. Even if you can probably write it in two days, it can be lethal to count on that. What if it does take longer? Or what if your power's out for much of those two days or a relative dies or you get the flu? I used to have this colorful notion that I did my best work under pressure; that it might even result in a better script if I trapped myself into having to write it at the last minute. It wasn't always fatal but it often screwed up my life to make myself a prisoner of a deadline.
The only person I ever knew who seemed good at back-timing his life was Dick Clark. I worked for him (and as a producer, even hired him once) back in the eighties. If you said to Dick, "We need you on the set, ready to shoot at Noon," Dick would say — and this is not me exaggerating for effect — "Okay, that means I'll need to hit wardrobe at 11:53, which means I'll need to be at hair and makeup at 11:41, which means I'll have to get to the studio at 11:35, so I'll leave Malibu at 11:06." And somehow, don't ask me how, he'd leave his home at Malibu at 11:06 and walk onto the set at 11:59, ready to shoot.
He was never late. Traffic didn't stop him. Mechanical failure didn't stop him. One year, he wanted to me to fly back to New York with him to assist with the live broadcast from Times Square on New Year's Eve. I wound up not doing it but I saw the itinerary and it was scary, especially when you considered that there was no backup plan if he wasn't there on time. The rest of the show was already pretaped, with its hosts saying, "Let's cut to our pal Dick Clark in Times Square." Then they left a hole which had to be filled. (When that was taped, it was October…and Dick, in his capacity as producer, was standing near the camera in that studio.)
You'd think that, since he absolutely had to be there at the Midnight Hour and since Times Square and the surrounding streets can get a wee bit congested the last day of the year — to say nothing of the likelihood of snow — he'd go to New York a few days early and check into a hotel, preferably the one with the rooftop from which he'd be broadcasting to ring in the new. Maybe he did that some years but the year he asked me to go, we would have been flying back at the last possible minute with only a little pad in the schedule for contingencies. And somehow, we would have made it because he was Dick Clark.
Alas, none of us is Dick Clark. (And even more alas is that these days, Dick Clark isn't Dick Clark.) We mortals, mere as we are, must deal with the laws of space, time and physics. We can't plan our lives in that manner…as I learned the hard way when being around Dick for a time caused me to try. There are times when for reasons beyond my control, I do have to get something written at the last minute. But to the extent I can, I really (really, really) try not to get into that situation. It harms me and it can also harm the work.
I always remember a story a writer friend told me. For a brief time, he dated a stunning young lady who had once folded-out in the center of Playboy. The first date ended with a polite kiss. The second ended with a less polite kiss. The third ended with serious necking and he was pretty sure the fourth and all subsequent ones would climax with climax. Another alas: There was no fourth date. She was called to Europe for a modelling assignment and then she got involved with someone else and he got involved with someone else and…well, that was it.
A few years later, he was no longer involved with that someone else or with anyone. He was writing a cartoon show and had blown the last few deadlines. He was given a last chance and basically told that if this one wasn't in on time, he could forget about ever writing this show — or any show — ever again. The studio was going to send a messenger to his home Friday evening at 6 PM. If he did not hand that messenger a completed script, the career was over. It would be time to go apply for a job putting Jack Sauce on Jackburgers at Jack-in-the-Box.
You probably see where this is going…
Despite all that was on the line, he put off starting work on the script so he could go to dinner with friends, put it off so he could work on the boat he owned (and would lose if the assignment wasn't in), put it off for umpteen reasons. He finally buckled down on Thursday evening and worked all through the night.
By Noon the next day, he had it about two-thirds written and figured that he would just barely finish by the time the messenger showed at six. That was when the phone rang.
You guessed it. It was Miss April — or whatever month she was — calling from a hotel out by the airport. She described to my friend what little she was wearing and announced, "I have five hours before I have to leave for a year-long job in Japan. I've been thinking about you and about that date we never had. And if you can get out here right away…"
I'll spare you the graphic details of the offering. I'll even spare you the description of my friend weeping as he told me the tale, lower lip all atremble. The story had a double-sad ending because not only did he have to say no to the young lady but he didn't get the script done by 6. And though his career didn't exactly end, employment at that studio did.
I'll probably write more on this topic in the next week or so. I want to emphasize how being late not only destroys careers, it can also injure the work. Right now though, I have to get back to work on a script. It's not due for a while and even though I won't be getting any offers like my friend received, I don't want to put it off until the deadline's looming. After all, I'm not Dick Clark.