I put together my work sample for the Guggenheim fellowship application tonight. It's one of those things that if you have your stuff together it doesn't take too long. If you don't, then it's more painful.
I try to be very careful putting mine together. This morning, I pulled 4 paper binders of different colors for my manuscripts. After punching the holes into the plays several hours later, I noticed the yellow one felt fuzzier. As I closed it, I noticed the price tag pictured above. Somehow, I've had that binder with me since childhood and never used it.
I was tempted to write a note on the back of it with a list of the places I've lived since I got it. Easily more than 20 in all. Or to rip it off. Part of me thought I should run to Staples to replace it.
But I put the scruffy and slightly blotched binder in with the 3 pristine ones and sealed them in a priority envelope. I then saw the whole thing get chucked into a tub through the slot for large envelopes at Farley Post Office. No going back now.
Sometimes done is better than not done and shooting for perfect. I hope the reader sees the tag and wonders about its journey. I still do.