Deadlines are something usually associated with the workplace, school or universities. Who hasn’t sweated to complete an assignment or task on a specific day? Those days were over, I thought, when I began writing to suit myself, when I could apply my own rules to the short stories, or novels I wished to produce. This worked, for a while, but when I was no longer in the paid workplace, or engaged in study, I found that the earlier discipline I’d applied to both my art and writing, was lacking.

Dad at the rail yards

My husband, an academic, often asked me about the deadlines I’d set for the story I was writing about my dad. And well may he wonder, as he has been all too well aware of just how long this project was taking. His well-intentioned comments niggled at me for I knew that I was long past the most recent loose time-frame I had set myself. Dare I say, it was November last year? My tardiness in completing this story, is  due to my leaping into other writing and art projects I am also interested in.

After this prod at my conscience I conceded that it was time to take action. I needed an impetus and soon thought of one which was sure to get me going. I had long decided to self-publish this work, and knew that if this was ever to eventuate, the manuscript would need close-reading and editing, by a professional as well as myself. ‘(Just shut up and) Do It” I told myself, borrowing from the title of a self-help book I’d read a few years back.

I emailed a friend, who is both a librarian and manuscript editor, and asked if she would like this particular job. She agreed to looking at my MS, and we planned to meet to discuss details, a few weeks on. OMG, did that give me the energy I needed to crack the whip. From that day I have written as much as I can daily, so that when Suzanne asks for the manuscript, I shall be somewhere near the completed draft. Help, we are meeting at the end of the week.

I have also written a list of whom I should contact at the publishing house, the questions I need to ask, and the timeframe I should expect to have my book ready for the public. There are photographs to collate to add to this mix, a cover to design as well. It has become clear that I need to make this work my priority. I owe it to my family (as well as myself), who encouraged me to write about a grandfather they never got to meet.

Below are the opening lines of his story.

There is also a painting in its infancy sitting on my easel beside me as I write. I think it’s time I set a deadline to complete the painting, don’t you?

Good luck with setting your own.