No Diapers. No Deadlines.

If I were actually a writer I'd call what I'm having writer's block. It's a real thing, sounds like a valid excuse and is known to pass.

"Why haven't you written anything lately?" my imaginery fans would ask.  
"Don't worry, it's just a little writer's block," I'd coolly reply.

But since I'm not a real writer and I don't have real fans, I can't really call it writer's block. So I'll try to tell you in three hundred words or less what's actually happening. Let's consider it a warmup exercise.

Everything appears to be in my favor.  There's no lack of motivation, ideas or time. I really want to write, I have a lot of dumb things to say and I have more time than anyone I know. But after months of being blocked, I've realized there are two things missing: diapers and deadlines.

There's plenty of advice online about balancing diapers and deadlines; living between diapers and deadlines; and diapers, date nights and deadlines. The general idea is that life without them is a walk in the park (or in my case a run in the vineyard), but I think it's refutable.

The lack of diapers in my life means there are also no play dates, homework, car pools, birthday parties, family meals, oversized washing machines, Little League games or dance recitals. I know most of you think that with excess time you'd read and play your piano and sew and organize and paint and write. (I know you wouldn't really do what I think I should be doing, but you think you'd do what you've always wanted to do.) Don't be so sure. According to Nietzsche "the mother of excess is not joy, but joylessness."

As for deadlines, I'm on par with Santa Claus. We both have a lot to do in December. The difference is that Santa has to be ready by the 25th, but over time I've extended the deadline. Sending Happy New Year wishes instead of Merry Christmases gives me an extra week. And living in Italy means the holidays include the Epiphany, which brings me to January 6. When you throw in the Italian postal service I'm officially covered til April.

But what does Santa Claus do in his downtime? Does he paint the sleigh in May? Does he train the reindeer to fly in July? If he's anything like me he finds it hard to get motivated when the next big day is so far off. With no deadlines there's always tomorrow, next week or next month (as long as you live forever).

But unlike immortal Santa I have the deadline of death, the unpleasant reminder that the best time to paint the sleigh, train the reindeer and write is now. And as I remind myself, might I also remind the members of the Diapers and Deadlines Club that the deadline of death  
deserves more attention than anything else in your inbox.