Don’t Not Sleep and Write
How A Sleep-Deprived Post Got Me Nervous
A couple days ago I was a walking zombie and thought it would be a great idea to write an article about it. At the time I thought I put forth a good effort and was happy as I pushed the publish button in the upper right hand corner. I thought some of my friends would read it, hopefully enjoy it, and I could get back into my writing. I wanted to slowly build up a base of articles, continually improve and help build a presence here at Medium.
I sound like I am training for a marathon, not writing huh?
Disregard that, if you will for a moment, because my little illusion was shattered by the melodic tone of a new email eminating from my iPhone.
Subject: “The Keegan Principle” was added to “Editor’s Picks”
WHAT?!?! I was driving so I shouldn’t have been looking at my email at all, but being that I was sitting in the parking lot known as the I-5/I-805 merge at 5PM it seemed like the right thing to do.
A million thoughts were racing through my head and not a single one of them sounded anything like, “That was some of your best writing yet.” Not even close. It was all self-doubt and disbelief. “Does that math formula even work?” “Could I have punched it up a little in the third paragraph?” “Did I phone this one in?” “Should I have skipped lunch and worked on the post?”
I began to questiont he wisdom of writing about sleep-deprivation while sleep-deprived. But if Gonzo journalism worked for Hunter S. Thompson then maybe it would work for me as well.
As I drove home I kept replaying the article in my head. I wanted to edit it, expand it or maybe completely rewrite it as I made the turns off the freeway towards home.
I pulled into my driveway and saw my wife and son playing. Keegan came running over in his barefeet and gave me a hug and flashed his ever-toothier smile.
I picked him up and put him on my shoulders. He knew it was time to go look for hot air balloons launching from the lagoon. Seeing no balloons he wasted no time in pointing out the planes and helicopters flying up the coast. Then it was onto his shovel and buckets.
I forgot about the post and what others would think of it. I can only do my best and leave it at that. While I want to be a good writer, I want to be a good dad more. So instead we ran around the yard, watered his bucket of rocks and splashed each other until he giggled.
The post could wait, but not this little boy and little boys don’t stay little forever.
