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Deadlines are like the in-laws of the writing world. You can't avoid them forever, and they always bring a suitcase full of stress with them. "Oh, you thought you could relax this weekend? Think again!
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Deadlines are the real-life version of the game "Simon says." Simon says, "Finish that paragraph." Simon says, "Edit that chapter." Oh, and Simon didn't say you could take a break! Wait, who's Simon, and why is he so bossy?
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Deadlines are a bit like unexpected guests. They show up uninvited, stay longer than you'd like, and just when you think they're gone, they send a follow-up email asking if you've had a chance to finish that chapter.
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You ever notice how deadlines for writers are like that one friend who says they'll be there in 5 minutes, and you end up waiting for an eternity? Yeah, my deadline is on "writer time." It's a magical zone where five minutes can last a week.
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Deadlines are the only time procrastination becomes an Olympic sport for writers. "I'll start in five minutes," I say, as I stare at the blank screen for an hour. It's all about the gold medal in creative avoidance.
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Ever notice how deadlines for writers are like GPS directions? They're constantly recalculating. "You'll finish in two days." Recalculate. "Make that a week." Recalculate. "How about a month?" I'm just trying to find my way through the plot, not drive to the Grand Canyon.
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Deadlines are like that annoying friend who keeps asking, "Are we there yet?" Well, no, we're not there yet, and every time you ask, it adds another 10 minutes to the writing process. It's like time is on a coffee break.
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Deadlines for writers are a bit like laundry. You keep putting it off, and when you finally decide to tackle it, you discover a mountain of work that makes you question every life decision. But instead of clean clothes, you end up with a draft. Close enough, right?
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You know you're in trouble when your deadline has a soundtrack. It starts with the gentle hum of your computer, transitions to the erratic typing, and crescendos with the symphony of your own panicked breathing. Move over Beethoven; we've got a deadline symphony in the making.
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