A Distant Soil by Colleen Doran

It is not funny how much work I have to do right now. In the worst case scenario of time management scenarios, Fate threw a buttload of hilarity, annoyance, and tempting distraction my way over these last six months. I can’t say I have ever been so pleased to be overworked before, and my stress management has been admirable, if I do say so myself. My garden looks as neglected as gardens get. I’m only able to get outside for a few hours a week.

Thanks to our tech invasion, I’ve lost nearly two weeks of work, income, and hundreds in costs. I think we’ve got a handle on it, but I will not tempt fate by doing the public neener neener. The latest victim is The Dreamland Chronicles, which was completely destroyed last week, twice.

Over the last year or so, I’ve taken to scanning all my prelims into the computer, making adjustments, and blowing them up to original art size for finishes on my lightbox. Sometimes my thumbs are tight enough that I can start inking directly from them. I delight in all the time I save, and the preservation of the energy of the original sketch.

Naturally, after buying printer ink in bulk, my printer died not 24 hours ago. My old model is no longer available from the manufacturer, and it is cheaper to buy a better model and have it rush delivered. If anyone needs EpsonT04 ink, sing out. I’d be happy to exchange it for a donation. Otherwise, it goes on ebay.

Mark Evanier delivers the smackdown on whiny freelancers who do not meet their deadlines. I may print this out, roll it into a stack of papers, and beat myself with it.

No matter how much time you think you have, you don’t. There will cometh a tornado, a murder, computer meltdowns, the death of your cat, and really cool other jobs you just can’t turn down. (Time management articles here. I pull them out and read them to me once in awhile, which is odd, because I wrote them. You’d think I’d know this stuff by now.)

There is nothing noble about being late, nothing that suggests your work is better because you fussed longer with it and did that extra draft. Creative folks can meet deadlines and still be creative. Laurence Olivier somehow managed to be on stage when the curtain went up at 8 PM. He didn’t tell them to have the audience come back at 9:30 because he needed more prep time to give the best possible performance. You can do good work and get it in when it’s supposed to be in…or reasonably close to it. (When I write here of being late, I’m not talking about being a day or so late or even of skirting phantom deadlines. I’m talking about being late on a real deadline such that it causes problems.)

I’m not sure this is a good comparison. It is one thing to show up and perform in a play that runs two hours. It is another thing to draw the cast of thousands the writer gave you to draw in the same time frame as a pinup.

However, I am in complete agreement about his definition of deadline: it’s not being a day or two, or even a week or two, it’s the weeks and months behind that wrankles, the book due on the stands in September that doesn’t get completed until August.

Like that.

It’s been years since I blew a deadline that was due to client malpractice. If the deadline goes blown, I am usually at fault. Then again, I haven’t created a problem that’s caused a schedule snafu in more years than I can remember, so I feel smug anyway.

There’s a famous story they used to tell around the Marvel offices about the great New York blackout of 1965 when power was off everywhere for about twelve hours one evening. Most everyone showed up at the Marvel office the next morning without their homework, figuring they couldn’t be expected to write or draw by candlelight. Stan Lee, however, came in with all his pages done, having labored by candlelight. And the point of the story was that Stan was amazed that everyone else hadn’t done that. It had simply not occurred to him not to write even though he had a perfect excuse. Which is one of the reasons he’s Stan Lee and you and I are not.

I used to do that. A lot.

The client rarely appreciated the effort I went to to work in the dark, but I did develop terrible eyesight.

I pulled the all-nighters regularly, worked myself sick, vomited with nerves, sat down for so long I had to crawl away from the drawing board, and pulled up to 120 hours in a single week.

I produced lousy work for low money and no one appreciated it.

Now, I work fewer hours, and produce better work. I get better pay and can afford the eyeglasses I need from years of strain working for crap pay on lousy jobs.

Killing yourself won’t make the client love you. Taking advantage of the client’s deadline largesse won’t endear them to you, either.

The client may remember the fact you got the job in quickly, but they will not hire you again if you moved heaven and earth to get it in and produced crap.

For many years, I was a fill-in artist, producing entire books in days.

And I got a bad reputation as a bad artist ( my Guardians of the Galaxy Annual #3 makes my eyes bleed). And even though I met the deadlines, I didn’t get good jobs. Good jobs go to the artist who brings in the big sales. You know, the guy who never meets his deadline.

It’s about balance, kids.

If the book is not on the schedule, not coming out next month (or within six months) and you need more time, just ask. Editors can be pretty flexible.

I’d like another two weeks on this new one, please…

c