A Quote by Rick Riordan

Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face. — © Rick Riordan
Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face.
You're staring at me," Simon said. "Why are you staring at me? Have I got something on my face?
Working with Moschino, a real high fashion Italian brand, maybe I'm under tighter deadlines, but sometimes under tight deadlines you do your best work.
We never know until the beast of opportunity is staring us in the face.
Meeting external deadlines is much harder than meeting internal ones. On the other hand, internal deadlines sometimes don't feel real, and are therefore easy to evade.
You put on a face for the public. The face isn't false; it's just another side of you. If it were false, you couldn't last. People want something real and natural, and if they catch you acting, you're dead. It has to look real. In order to look real, it has to be real, and I've always thought of the characters I've played as real people.
I knew I wanted to be an actor. I just kept saying, "Until somebody tells me to stop, until I have to go get a real job, and until I'm practically homeless, I'm not gonna get one."
There are many challenges I face while working on a book. Working within deadlines and schedules is certainly one of the bigger ones for me. I want to create the best possible book I can for my readers with words and pictures - and that takes time to get it just right.
I like to put my iPad on the window and leave it there for however long the journey is, so that I'm staring out, and it's staring out. We're kind of staring out together. It's very poetic to me, watching that absent-minded passing of time. You realize how much you've taken in. What is left of that memory of you staring out of the window for an hour? It's all on the iPad.
Writing means not just staring ugliness in the face, but finding a way to embrace it.
Having deadlines helps because people are constantly breathing down my neck, and tapping their toes waiting for pages. So I just have to work nine to five. If I didn't have deadlines then I might be more of a golden hour kind of guy, writing from eight to noon and calling it a day, but that's just not the way I work right now.
There are always deadlines I have to meet. I don't let myself get too close to the deadlines, so it's not like I'm just sweating bullets or anything if the clock is ticking. I never let myself get in that situation.
It is no use. I find it impossible to work with security staring me in the face.
I was breathless, talking as fast as I could. I was afraid if I stopped talking, even for a second, I’d start sobbing again. “Whoa, there.” Fang smiled and reached up, tracing a hand down the side of my face, winding strands of my hair around his fingers. “Stop talking and let me just tell you how great it is to wake up staring at your face. Okay?
Staring at the stars was like staring backward in time, since some stars are so far away that their light takes millions of years just to reach us. That we see stars not as they look now, but as they were when dinosaurs roamed the earth. The whole concept just struck me as…amazing somehow.
Staring and staring into the mirror, it sees many faces within its face - the face of the child, the boy, the young man, the not-so-young man - all present still, preserved like fossils on superimposed layers, and, like fossils, dead. Their message to this live dying creature is: Look at us - we have died - what is there to be afraid of? It answers them: But that happened so gradually, so easily. I'm afraid of being rushed.
I gazed into the mirror... There, staring at me, was the pallid, flabby-mouthed face of a crook
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