Those Deadly Deadlines
My back hurts and head throbs. The lights are too bright; the temperature too cold. Is it the flu? Some as-yet unnamed dread disease? No, it’s just that it’s already 8 p.m. on a Sunday and I have a deadline for my weekly column in a short twelve hours. I have asked writers I’ve met over the years how they feel about the bane of my existence: deadlines. “I love deadlines. They keep me motivated,” one giddy w...