Deadlines Can Wait

This week's Studio Series happened.

AUGUST 28, 2026

Later.

I believe in deadlines. I have never missed one.

There's pride in that record. Responsibility lives there. A deadline for me, is defined as a promise I make to myself, to my work, and to the people who expect me to show up.

Last Friday, I was close to Final Cut when I left to visit some of my favoritest people in the world: my family in Gardnerville, NV. Particularly ... my Aunt.

Twenty-nine years had passed since we had been in contact.

Don't ask me how people so special -- vital to me -- could ever have fallen in my wake; a perfect storm created by shame, tragedy, fame, addiction, recovery, cancer, stroke, and family emergencies.

Twenty-nine years disappeared with one phone call. Everything in my world narrowed to one decision: Pack.

Gardnerville, Nevada, is 420 miles from our home.

Distance meant nothing to me.

I wanted to see my aunt.

I wanted to love her.

I wanted to prepare dinner, sit together as a family, share whatever time remained, and say goodbye ... perhaps for the last time.

The family motto I've built around us for decades was preeminent in my heart:

FAMILY FIRST. ALWAYS.

I've written those words many times before. This time I lived them across 420 miles of highway, backroads, and shortcuts that took me an extra two hours.

My publishing schedule still carried responsibility. Late Friday night, I drafted a brief version of this piece and published it. I had made a commitment to the Studio Series, and I honored it with what I could give before Amy and I left.

Then I shutdown my work.

We drove to Gardnerville.

I sat with family.

We prepared a beautiful family dinner.

We shared.

We loved.

We said goodbye.

I was right where I needed to be.

We returned home late last night, and the unfinished piece was waiting for me.

So I came back to it.

Pressure has a particular effect on me as a writer. I pull inward. I go deeper. I search for the place where experience becomes truth on the page. I want the work to carry something lived, that which is earned, bleeding from my soul.

This week gave me that truth before I ever found the words for it.

Discipline.

Consistency.

Keeping my word.

Then life places a moment in front of me that deserves my whole presence, and I know exactly what to do.

I leave the page open ...

I move the schedule ...

I drive the miles ... 

I hold the hand ...

I prepare dinner ...

I gather close ... 

I go where love requires ... 

The work will be waiting when I return.

The moment may be gone.

Deadlines can wait.

Family comes first.

Always.

Amy ... once again, you stood by my side to hold me up, pray for me, encourage me, and walk with me. I love you.

©2026 Bryan-David Scott. All rights reserved.

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