Rob Giroy: Making A Stand #26
Deadlines, deadlines everywhere, where they stop… I’m giving up on that idea; I’m no good at rhymes, Busta or otherwise.
Nevertheless I have been inundated with deadlines this week; too many to mention and far too many to even bother completing.
It’s funny but I seem to spend a lot of time waiting for deadlines and then suddenly; I’m overwhelmed with the clock-watching little tykes.
In many ways deadlines are like buses – everyone uses them but no one likes them and tries their best to avoid using them when they can. Especially towards the back end, where there’s always an overriding smell of urine.
Another reason deadlines are like buses are because they are beyond our control – there is no set schedule or timeline for when they come. It’s as if they make it up as they go along.
I’ve yet to work out if there’s a link to the fact that most deadlines come in waves – it could simply be down to the fact that I put off work until they start to loom their deformed little faces.
I don’t know why I do it like that; I always start off with the best intentions – writing down the deadlines in my diary, mapping out when I should get certain things written, bulk-buying teabags to keep me going.
However once the dates are locked and the agreements made; something in me decides that the best course of action is to mull things over for a while, not commit anything to paper until I’m completely sure it’s right.
The exception to the rule is this column – it waggles its deadline in my face week after week, so it’s purely a case of getting any old tat down.
Next week I’m planning on copy-and-pasting bits of Wikipedia pages or Darren Day’s back catalogue. I doubt anyone would notice. I certainly wouldn’t, but then I’m smacked off my tits most of the time.
That’s a joke; I don’t have tits. I have chest mounds.
I have a funny sort of relationship with deadlines – on the one hand; the idea of having to work to a set time-frame only increases pressure but on the other hand; it helps to focus my beautiful mind.
I bet if Russell Crowe had deadlines in that film where he played a mental genius, his thinking would have been somewhat clearer.
That said; if you’ve got Paul Bettany prancing round your office while you’re trying to work, then you’re always going to be distracted. Bloody Paul Bettany.
Not to bang on about this column again – yawn – but, if I start writing well before the hand in time, then I agonise over ever word and every direction I take it, what should only take me a couple of hours, takes days of writing and rewriting. Constantly tweaking its chest mounds until it’s just right.
Whereas, if I’m unable to write it until the last possibly moment, due to unforeseen bouts of laziness, then I tend to latch onto an idea almost immediately. I can develop and expand on it much more efficiently. Hardly any tweakage, whatsoever.
I’m not suggesting that that’s the best way to approach everything – no brain surgeon ever performed their best work by adopting a slice-first-ask-questions-later approach – but for me it can sometimes work.
However, this week has been a mixture of tasks requiring a quick turn around and other bits that are constantly in a state of flux, such as this personal stand up routine I’ve been banging on about.
I haven’t started writing it officially yet – my laptop remains remarkably un-probed – but it’s constantly in my mind.
What am I going to talk about and how am I going to cram it so full of jokes it’ll be like an obese Christmas cracker?
The stand up set has its own deadline; namely the moment I stand on stage and say “Hello, my name is Rob Gilroy.” If I don’t have anything by then, I’ll have to follow that opening gambit with “…and I am an alcoholic.”
At least then I can pretend I’ve grossly misjudged the situation and hot foot it out of there before anyone can offer to be my sponsor.
The other bits of work are good at helping with the stand up, in a way. I can concentrate on them and work to my deadlines whilst letting my subconscious do all the mental heavy-lifting.
It happened the other day; I was working on a sketch for Jolly Mixtures (my monthly sketch show in Saltaire – it’s on next week – 17th October, thanks for asking) when suddenly a bit of stand up popped into my head.
I made a note of it, smiled to myself, came back an hour later and crossed it out, left it another hour and rewrote it, again.
If it hadn’t been for the slight change in attention, I’d probably have spent too much time trying to come up with a good joke and would never have got there in the end. That said, some would argue that I didn’t.
Deadlines – love them or hate them, they’re like buses; old people have one big one that’s always looming.
Rob can be seen next performing as part of Jolly Mixtures at the Caroline Street Social Club, Thursday 17 October, 8:30, £3.
