From the frying pan into the fire. Don’t you love it? I come home from tearing my hair out over finals…to this..
For the last 48 hours I’ve been grinding away at my writing sample for grad school.
Do you know how frustrating it is to try and revise even two poems to a point at which you’re comfortable turning them in for evaluation? It’s like triage: okay, well stanza 3 isn’t great but that’s the best I can do for now. Or, all right, there’s still something missing here but I’m not going to figure out what it is in the next 12 hours so I might as well leave it. Never mind that I need something presentable to show to the admissions committee. My poems will take their own darn time. It makes me so mad I could throw my “in-progress” folder across the room (except I won’t because then I’d have to reorganize the mess and that would take even more time…)
To make matters worse, I discovered late last night that even though my mentor reassured me that no school in their right mind would ask for more than 10 poems, some of my schools (and in particular, the one whose supplementary application materials I need to mail today) are asking for 15. Yikes! That’s exactly 5 poems that I have to pull out of thin air (well, not really — more like speed from draft to semi-polished form) by 4:30 pm so that I can get there before the post office closes.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. This will be the most last-minute writing sample ever.
Oh well, I suppose if I don’t get in anywhere I can always try again next year.