I have time blindness.

Which means I cannot be trusted with the phrase “real quick.”

To a normal person, “real quick” means ten minutes.

To me, it means opening a door to a time vortex where I emerge four hours later wondering why the sun has moved.

Case in point: I recently decided to freshen up an old romantic comedy I wrote a few years ago.

Nothing major. Just a little polish.

Maybe update a joke or two. Freshen the cover.

You know.

Real quick.

Except what actually happened was this: I started rereading the manuscript.

Then I started laughing.

Then I remembered why I loved the book in the first place.

Then I decided one scene needed a little punch.

Which meant adding a paragraph.

Which meant adding a page.

Which meant adding an entire chapter.

Which meant rewriting half the book.

Which meant suddenly discovering I had written multiple new chapters, refreshed every existing chapter, and essentially rebuilt the whole thing from the inside out.

This is how my brain works.

Give it an inch and it will build an entirely new house.

Now here’s the inconvenient part.

While I was happily reconstructing this romcom and remembering why it made me laugh, I also have a completely separate book due in April.

Deadlines, as it turns out, are not particularly impressed with the phrase “but my Muse insisted.”

Unfortunately, my Muse is a tyrant.

When she shows up and says, “we’re doing this now,” I don’t argue.

Experience has taught me that ignoring her is a mistake.

Also, she’s usually right.

The romcom is better now. Sharper. Funnier.

And that makes me ridiculously happy.

What it does not make happy is the calendar.

Because while the Muse and I were off redecorating a book that technically wasn’t on fire, the book that is on deadline is sitting there like:

Hello.

Remember me?

The one due in April?

But here’s the other thing about how my brain works.

Deadline panic is not a bug.

It’s a feature.

For reasons that defy all logic, the moment the clock starts ticking loudly enough, my brain suddenly becomes extremely efficient. Words happen faster. Decisions happen faster. Entire chapters appear out of nowhere.

Apparently, the threat of imminent doom is my creative rocket fuel.

Don’t worry, I’ll make my April deadline.

Even if I have to squeeze my brain until there’s nothing left.

Because if there’s one thing my career has taught me, it’s this:

I may have time blindness, but I always get the job done.

Kim Van Meter is a former full-time reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Escalon Times and The Riverbank News; she continues to provide a monthly column. She can be reached at kvanmeter@oakdaleleader.com.