It happens every time.
Despsite having planned it all well in advance, thought about, scribbled down, edited and rewritten all the various bits and bobs that are to become full-fledged copy, it’s only when the deadline is looming on the horizon that we, the two-member, geographically splayed editorial team of our small-sized, grand themed mag really get into the groove.
And I have to say, there is something about deadline pressure which is actually quite thrilling.
Working against the clock, being totally consumed by the act of thinking, pruning, rejigging, rewriting one’s own and each other’s copy, and being rendered unavailable, well nearly, to the rest of the world.
It reminds me of a writer saying that one of the greatest pleasures of work, and especially that involving doing what one loves, is exactly that. The gift of oblivion. The immersion into something that ensures the loss of oneself. At least temporarily.
Until the world comes creeping back, leaping back in.
Wonderful, wonderful world.