Deadlines. Neil Ridgway, a wise, charismatic and savvy publisher once told me: "Perfection at deadline is perfection". That flew in the face of the sign above my desk at the time: "I love deadlines, especially the sound they make as they go wooshing by."
Back then my life was dictated by monthly deadlines and each one felt like a tidal wave of insurmountable force. The first week was awesome: "oh, we have heaps of time, let's party for a bit and think of cool ideas." Then the second would start to turn the screws: "Oh, really and I have to shoot and write that feature as well?" Then the third: "I'm actually running out of time here and unless I skip sleeping, I'm going to have to cull something." But with sleeping skipped, week four had the real teeth: "Okay, so now I have to re-do this and pick up this story from my mate who is also facing his week four demons without any sleep from week three's scorpion sting? And we need another feature shot, because the book grew again?"
It was about this point that I learnt time could stretch significantly. Firstly there was a lot to be gained from not travelling home at the end of the day. Sleeping at your desk is a terrible idea, but somewhere in those unproductive midnight-plus hours some good oil happens. Sounds weird, but it actually happens inside a fog right on the edge of reality.
Then you can always push the printer. I loved the printer call – it was absurd. You can actually decide which section to print last and then leave that till the end. We did it a lot – usually page one.
In magazine-speak page one is the holy grail. Not the sort to be left to chance, although that's usually what we spent our last wakeful moments deliberating over, arguing well past midnight, trying stuff perched on the art director's shoulder who knew all along we'd return to his original concept in the end. If we got it right the magazine got picked up from the newsstand a few weeks later. That's when we had the chance to really win the customer over. If we felt like $9.95 worth then we got the sale. Seriously. It came down to the weight of the magazine. I had agonised over the cover with my colleagues and worked tirelessly to write guru Mike Nicks-worthy intros and the callous end user only gives a toss about thud factor.
And then you'd just be waking from the post-deadline haze and the whole cycle begins again. This past week has felt like that for me: a swarm of deadlines all stinging at the same time. I'm desperately in need of some South Pacific Ocean tonic.
See you at the beach ... Derek
PS Here's one of my deadlines and a great option if you're heading to Dunedin for any reason: The Eagle's Nest.
Proudly supported by:
