Day of the Dead(line)
Dressing up to trick time (& the treat of Amazon's series, The Outlaws)
This essay is spoiler-free. All references to The Outlaws can be found in the trailer.
We just finished the second season of Amazon’s series, The Outlaws1. One of the best shows no one seems to know about, in my opinion. With a colorful cast of characters forced together to restore a local building as part of their community service sentences, who form unlikely friendships in the process, and ultimately unite around a common cause- it couldn’t land more squarely in my wheelhouse.
The second season takes off running on groundwork laid in the first season. The group is charged with a no-win assignment, threatened by devastating consequences should they fail to meet the impossibly short timeline.
Some characters meet the challenge willingly, some reluctantly, but the debate about whether or not to do it, the instinct to run away from it, negotiate it, or give up altogether, is quickly squashed when it becomes clear that, other than life or death, they don’t have a choice.
Nothing focuses us more than high stakes and a deadline.
It immediately eliminates if and when and leaves you with the only question that matters: how.
I am not a runner, but before I knew that for sure, I tried out for high school track. I soared over hurdles. I sprinted in short spurts measured in meters. I knew how to run as fast as possible toward a finish line I could see.
There was no question that long distance wasn’t for me. I have never been good at pacing myself toward an invisible goal that might as well be hypothetical.
Of course, I can recognize that my all-or-nothing approach hasn’t gotten me anywhere quicker. If anything, it’s probably taken me much longer. I know all about the tortoise and the hare and Greg McKeown makes a pretty compelling case in Effortless2 for why overconfidence isn’t the only thing that slows us down. (Side note: The irony that I am reading this book right now, despite starting it months ago, is a little too annoying to fully appreciate, but it doesn’t escape me.)
I don’t really need a story to convince me. I am still recovering from years of prolonged stress and burn out. I literally know this truth with every bone in my body.
Which is why I began this year with a commitment to do it differently. Alongside all my clear, actionable project goals was an emphasis on doing them at a sustainable pace. Because I want to enjoy the process. I want to work in a way that feels un-rushed, that leaves space for surprise and discovery, inefficiency and experimentation. I want to be curious and imaginative. I want to create like an artist, not just produce like a machine.
How I want to do has everything to do with who I want to be.
All year, I’ve played with flexible timelines and adaptable goals. Breaking things down into smaller and smaller steps. Carving out hours for deep focus, then shorter blocks when too much time overwhelmed me, then even smaller increments when I just needed to convince myself to sit down at my desk. Fake deadlines, basically. But gentler. Suggestions meant to guide and scaffold me, not rigid requirements designed to panic or push me.
Each time I hit a stuck point, I paused. Maybe I was applying too much force? I’d take a break. Maybe there was more information left to be revealed? I’d step back. Maybe there was something else I’d rather be doing? I’d set one project aside for another.
Somewhere along the way, Discomfort dressed up as Prioritization, sometimes even paraded around as Intuition, and began to dictate my decisions. I’d toss options back and forth until I had talked myself both in and out of everything.
This wasn’t a process, this was Procrastination.
That sneaky, fear-driven devil tricks me every time.
So now, here I am. The end of October, barreling toward the end of the year, and so many of my goals are still outstanding. I haven’t rushed, but I haven’t progressed either. (Not in a something-to-show-for-it way…which is what I’m going for.) I didn’t want to accomplish at my expense, but not accomplishing held a different kind of cost. Mainly to my sense of self.
When I looked at the calendar, I could feel the shift as my panic turned into a familiar, adrenal rush. Terror turned into thrill.
And then clarity. And then confidence.
I can see the finish line. It’s now or never.
As much as I didn’t want to be here, I know how to do this.
Throughout the season, we watch each of the characters transform.
Whether they are participating with resistance or acceptance or, in a few cases, great enthusiasm, they become whoever they have to be, to do whatever they have to do, for that short period of time.
We can justify and sustain just about anything when it’s temporary.
Some of them resort back to an old version of themselves they’re trying to overcome, but many of them are forced to dig deep and embody a version of themselves (or a version so far outside of themselves), that they wear it like a costume. Ill-fitting, but convincing enough in the right context.
It’s like the way we learn when we’re young that, this time of year, we can dress up as something mightier than ourselves, go outside, and boldly ask for what we want. Knock on doors, walk right up to strangers, hold out our hands, and demand it.
The way we learn as we get older to fake it until we make it. Dress up to meet the moment. Pretending as permission to be otherwise until, worn long enough, you grow into it.
I chose one unmet goal to prioritize. The due date pretty much set itself. The only question left was- how. I may have run out of time to take my time, but that didn’t mean I had to sprint in the same way…right?
I have created roadmaps and action plans and papered my wall with a million color-coded post-it notes. I have broken each phase into bite size actions. I have blocked time, set intentions, queued up my instrumental pop playlist3. I have used everything available in my old bag of tricks.
But I have also gone for walks. I have stretched and showered. I have put myself to bed on time and preserved my morning rituals. I have (mostly) remembered to feed myself. I have asked for help. All the cares and kindnesses I used to throw out the window in this mode. All the human needs I used to defer when I’d turn myself into a productivity robot.
Right now, everything is in progress but nothing is done. I’m so deeply in the middle of it that I can’t tell where I am. How close this is. How much longer that will take. The gap between where I started and where I need to end up feels just as insurmountable as when I started, but I know it’s not.
Again, not a runner, but I’m pretty sure there’s such a thing as a ‘final sprint’. You spend hours in the endless, ambiguous, unremarkable middle of the route. You plod and pace and feel like you’re going nowhere…and then, you pass that last marker. You set your eyes on the finish line. Every ounce of your energy reserves surge into your system and you run- as fast as you can with everything you have left.
I am currently two days away from a milestone I’ve been working toward for six months. I have done more in two weeks than I did in the two months prior.
Maybe all this time, all this dancing the line between taking time and wasting time, I actually was moving forward. I was laying the groundwork. Covering the thankless middle ground. Maybe I am only able to move fast now because I went slow earlier.
Maybe my process is more like a relay. It’s not that I needed to replace the sprinter entirely, I just needed to add a distance runner to the team. A partnership, not a retirement. Not all or nothing, but something in between.
Look, I have still spiraled. I have still ended up on the floor and curled up in the corner. Sometimes it feels like I’m killing myself in the process. But isn’t transformation a different kind of death? The process of becoming a fiery burning away, a pressurized forging.
In meeting this moment, I have met myself. And I have become who I needed to be to do what I needed to do.
The other day someone asked me- What will you be? They were talking about Halloween. What would I be dressing up as?
A unicorn. A monster. A superhero.
Something, I think, mightier than myself. Something I can grow into...
And you- what will you be this year (for Halloween…or otherwise)?
Watch The Outlaws (you won’t regret it)
“When we’re trying to achieve something that matters to us, it’s tempting to want to sprint out of the gate. The problem is that going too fast at the beginning will almost always slow us down the rest of the way. The costs of this boom-and-bust approach to getting important projects done is too high: we feel exhausted on the days we sprint hard, drained and demoralized on the days we don’t.” excerpt from Effortless
Deadlines are essential for me! I either go 100 miles an hour, or am a slug who produces nothing. So, yeah, tell me when it has to be done and I can pretty much guarantee it will be done. But I do need that incentive!
Oh deadlines. I need deadlines, because they keep me on track, but when you're creating outside of a "real" job, it is so hard to make those deadlines and stick to them. Right now I'm trying to set deadline goals for finishing my book. I know what I need to do and how I need to go about making those revisions, but getting there is HARD. I have to keep reminding myself that this isn't a sprint, it's a marathon.