My house is full of magazines. Baskets, shelves, and tables overflow with back issues I plan to read some day. Yoga magazines with articles about simplification and meditation. Literary magazines with short stories I bought for inspiration. Weeklies with gossip gone stale.
     Why I don't read them is a mystery. Do I save them so I can put my flashlight to good use if the electricity fails? Or for the day I come down with the crud and want to read the ratings of our state's top docs?
     Do you remember Mad about You, the television comedy about a young married couple living in New York City? In one hilarious episode, they decided to do something abut the magazines taking over their apartment. Every scene, no matter what else they were doing, their heads were buried in periodicals.
     I've tried to put copies in the recycling bin or have my husband spread them around the customer area of his workplace. I remove them from their holding places only to have each one's cover scream, "Read this article! It will change your life!" Back they go to be read on a future day. But now that I am working on a magazine article myself, the unread editions gathered around my house are affecting my conscience.
     When I took a free-lance writing course nearly two years ago, the instructor invited an editor from a local magazine to address the group. Since then, a member of the class, a woman I've stayed in contact with, has written several articles for that same publication. For some reason, I wanted to get into the game and sent a letter to the editor with a story idea. When I didn't hear from her, I bugged her. More than once.
     When she sent the contract, she included some ideas for resources. Just the word, "Resources," brought to mind the adage of being careful of what you wish for. What I pictured as a heart-warming little story written off the top of my head, had became something that needed resources—facts, figures, quotes, documentation—requiring a deeper level of thinking than I'm used to. Luckily, I had three months to get my stuff together.
     A deadline is a deadline, though, and it hangs over your head whether it's tomorrow or 90 days in the future. Maybe it's the first part of the word: dead. With that in mind, I conducted interviews, read studies, made phone calls, and emailed experts. With so much time and hard work invested, I've started to look at my masses of magazines with a more appreciative eye. Now that I know what goes into writing a feature, I can no longer walk past these publications without feeling respectful. And guilty. I hang my head and whisper a promise to return and read each and every word between their covers—as soon as I meet my deadline.
     With so much stress about the article, trying to get it just right, I may be coming down with some sort of bug. Hopefully, it won't hit me until I've pressed the "Send" button on the computer and my work is safely in the editor's hands. Once I've met my deadline, I can justify taking it easy. I'll start on my pledge to read each and every magazine from cover to cover, beginning with articles about pampering myself. A pot of tea, a blankie, and lots of chocolate…guilt can be a good thing.