I don’t know Tuesday from Saturday. And it bothers me.
I guess 40 years of unrelenting deadlines offered comfort and structure. Sure, I reserved the right to sometimes balk at those daily deadlines, but my new untethered state has left me confounded and confused. I’m retired in a pandemic. There’s a lot of latitude.
Time isn’t what it used to be. Yesterday – or was it the day before – I went to the post office. As I was going in, a woman coming out asked me if I knew what day it was. I shook my head, hoping to dislodge a date. I was stumped.
Years of creative work didn’t give me loads of experience with free time.
There were daily deadlines, client meetings, research to digest, a branding or positioning session, brainstorming, input, developing creative concepts, new input, client revisions, analytics, new input, focus group testing, new input, client revisions, new input, a rehearsal to present the creative to the client, new input, client revisions…
The only thing that didn’t change was the deadline and the word count.
Once I got this revision from my client contact: “The president doesn’t like the second sentence in paragraph three.” “What doesn’t he like about it?” I asked. “Who knows,” she said. “Just fix it.” And yes, this really happened.
Friends who worked 9:00 to 5:00 didn’t understand why I couldn’t meet them for dinner or drinks, why I stayed until midnight to rehearse for a client presentation, why I went to the office most weekends. Creativity on demand was inconceivable. “When will you be done?” they’d ask. It was hard to describe the all-consuming nature of creative work. I would try. Yes, there are deadlines because the advertising has to run, the website has to be finished, but the creative work happens all the time. That’s how you get the best creative work.
I think you have to work in a creative endeavor to understand what I’m talking about. You love it or you get an ulcer or high blood pressure. Or both.
My husband, who knows a thing or two about creative work and deadlines and has the high blood pressure to prove it, loves leisurely drives down Connecticut country roads. On our last drive, we had a choice between two routes. “Take this one, it’s quicker,” he said. We realized the truth at the same moment – we have all the time in the world. We looked at each other and laughed.
We took the longer route.