I love deadlines in the same way I love standing on the edge of tall buildings – how close can I get? I love that knot I get in my stomach as I have to write slightly faster than I can think in order to get the job done.
The best way to get optimum performance out of me is to think of the shortest possible time it takes to do something and then half it. The worst is to tell me it doesn’t matter when, take your time.
A deadline on the horizon is something to be ignored. “Next month? That’s years away. What’s on the telly?” A deadline in the next few hours is a foe to be respected and met head on. I don’t know where this masochistic need for pressure has come from, or why I’m generally incapable of living beyond the immediate moment, but it frequently comes back to bite me.
Take Cannes, for example. I’m sure the more sensible among the intended attendees have booked their hotels months ago. They’ve probably got nice little rooms in the centre of town, minutes from the Palais des Festivals and the Croisette.
Me? I started looking yesterday.
Apart from the odd £2000 a night rooms, the nearest affordable hotel I could find is practically in Belgium. I’ve no idea how long it will take to get into Cannes, no idea if there’s any trains or buses, in fact I don’t even really know where it is. I’m just assuming there’ll be probably be a big sign pointing directly to my hotel.
Maybe I should practice my French? And by French, I of course mean shouting loudly and slowly at Jean-ny Foreigner in English.
But that’s all done now – hotel and … shit. Hang on.
I’m back. That’s all done now – hotel and FLIGHTS booked.
Who and what about, I’ve no idea. I don’t even really know if I’m invited. I hope so, I’m sure she said I was. I also hope I’m going to meet the director and apparently she’s got a line producer onboard now, he’s worked on a lot of good films – very exciting. Hopefully after Cannes I’ll be able to give you all more details.
I’ve arranged to meet up with a half-dozen or so people I’m working with on various projects; some of whom are so elusive this is practically the only chance I have each year of getting to see them.
Listen to me, “each year”. This will be my second time – hardly a seasoned Cannes pro.
Still, I’m looking forward to it. Even if it will probably just involve me sitting quietly in the corner, nursing a diet coke and being too shy to talk to anyone. Hopefully this year I’ll be too shy to talk to some really important people. You know, like hotel receptionists, McDonalds cashiers, street sweepers – the next tier up from the people I normally associate with.