Deadline... by Glynis M. Belec

The desk in my motel room. Oops, I think I see
Facebook on  my screen!

I have the sweetest hubby ever. Maybe he just wanted a bit of peace and quiet around the castle for a couple of days, who knows? But whatever his motivation to ship me out, I still think he is the sweetest.

"Just go!" he said [using his inside voice, of course]. Life, lately, was consumed with much. I had arranged for my lovely editor to start on my children's novel the following week, thinking my manuscript would be completed  by then, but it wasn't looking promising. Distraction after distraction entered in and I just was not able to complete it at home. I contemplated getting up early, but I already did that. I thought about staying up late. But I already did that, too.

So when my dearly beloved suggested I go to a motel with my laptop and just write...I couldn't believe my ears. He told me he was going to be having some long days, too, because he had some work to get done.  So he would be fine. I tossed it about in my noggin for a while. I remembered some other commitments that I needed to look after. But both my sister and my daughter assured me that getting away to write was a great idea and they would look after what was pressing - caring for my elderly Dad, re-scheduling students, doing some paperwork, and so on.

For a little while prior to my departure, I dealt with guilt. I had trouble getting my head around, first - paying for a motel. We could spend the money on something a lot wiser than time away for yours truly, I reasoned. Then I thought because there was a swimming pool at the motel, I would have to use it once in a while (to get my money's worth, of course). Then I would feel guilty again because my poor hubby was slaving away at his job and there I would be - lolling around the pool. But a deadline was a deadline. I told myself that a dip in the pool would be a reward. Every 1500 words I could swim. Gotta' love those deadlines.

My daughter, who works for me, booked the motel and I was committed. To tell you the truth, I was jolly excited. I could hardly wait to get away where I wouldn't have to feel obligated to do anything but write. I know lots of writers who would think I was whacko and why couldn't I do it at home - but you've got to know my home and my ability to rationalize why my work isn't as important as the demands of others. I am working on that.

To make a long story a little bit less, I came. I wrote. I went.  My room was amazing and the pool 'reward' was exhilarating. The free breakfast lasted me most of the day and I am happy to report that I managed the 4,500 words I needed to complete my book. And, I did some other writing-related chores, had some wonderful, contemplative moments with God and actually relaxed every 1500 words. I tried my best to stay off Facebook and e-mail, but the WiFi was free!

In one of my idle moments (one hour prior to checkout time on the second day) I came across the origin of the word - deadline. Don't ask me how that happened. I think I was checking something out for a grammar issue. One thing led to another and I soon learned that the word deadline referred to a line around a military prison beyond which soldiers were authorized to shoot escaping prisoners during the American Civil War. Hmm...Gotta love trivia!

Getting away was a brilliant idea. Happy Hubby gets a gold star. I met my deadline, and I am happy to report that I am now thinking that I need a special jar on my desk to save up for the next motel writing retreat...