“My sole inspiration is a telephone call from a producer.”–Cole Porter Deadlines and I are frenemies. Without a deadline, even if it’s just a scrawl on my to-do list, I would never get a thing done. Having a deadline is a light at the end of my creative tunnel. Sometimes that light is the finished project coming out into the sun. Most of the time, a deadline seems like a train, carrying a cargo of procrastination that is about to run me over. Even when I’m super excited about something, say things like writing a bi-weekly column for this online publication, I put off the inevitable. Usually I start a bit of writing a few weeks before the item is due, committing myself to bits of research, looking at other points of view, digging up thoughts and memories. Then suddenly, somehow, it’s an hour before deadline and all I have are a few scratchy notes that that seemed much, much more comprehensive in my head than they do on that sheet of paper. Here comes that train, barreling towards me with little regard for my excuses, no matter how valid they sound. Time and tide wait for no man, or writer. This is not a new phenomenon. I sucked at homework. I can admit now that I was a fairly good student, but I would have accomplished a lot more if I had focused on history or geometry problems at the kitchen table instead of my chosen way of spending an evening; either reading a book or dancing around in my room play acting out little skits about how Gopher and Isaac the Bartender were both in love with me. Most mornings you would find me in the school hallway, about 10 minutes before...