Sometimes I notice that if I must do something quickly, I don't have time to stress out about it. The resulting product, given some time to proofread and reflect (but far less time than I "need") surpasses, I frequently suspect, the product that results from over-extensive revision.
With limited time, one must cut to the chase. The Lovecraftian tendencies of my serious prose (insofar as flowery prose is concerned rather than body count--my writing has no body count) curb when I must work quickly.
Last week I got a voice mail from someone with the local Chamber of Commerce. I'd been out of town when it arrived, and I saved it after the words "I'm x from the Chamber of Commerce, and you were recommended by y", as I figured it was an invitation to speak at Chamber. I promptly forgot I'd archived the message. Yesterday, it turned out that it was instead an invitation to contribute a short article to the local newsletter. I asked the nice woman over the telephone "When do you need it?". She replied "I need it today".
I immediately began drafting a brief piece explaining to laypeople types of intellectual property. Within forty minutes, I had a draft to show my partner. Within an hour, I e-mailed it to the Chamber of Commerce. I don't think that if I'd had six weeks, I would like it half so well.
I find that often, subject only to correction of grammar, elimination of the trite, and proofreading, my quickest work is my best.
