In the light of my recent doctoral endeavors, I thought I’d shed some light on the writing elements of the application process. There’s no need for me to point out the extraordinarily stressful nature of any graduate program applications, however, I see that there is a distinct challenge in applying to Composition and Rhetoric PhD programs that I did not notice while applying to English MA programs. Obviously some standards hold true in terms of navigating within the system: weighty recommendations, solid GPA, high GRE scores, etc. But the writing sample standards seem to be very different. As I’ve spent several hours with my mentor, tweaking my piece, trying to fulfill length requirements, making sure that I carry out my argument well, I have noticed some unique requirements that perhaps aren’t of concern in MA applications. I have noticed that radicalism, for lack of a better term, of any sort, is frowned upon. In a field that is relatively new, considering how it used to be lumped together with English, it is quite easy to step on toes and challenges, proposed dichotomies, etc. may count against an applicant. As a writing tutor, this issue might be especially relevant for me as I have been known to favor tutor input over instructor input in student writing. My eyes were also opened to a whole other element of the application process that I had not even considered, the admissions board. My mentor recently informed me that even in writing programs, the majority of an admissions board might consist of literature instructors. This knowledge was quite alarming as I realized just how important a heightened awareness of audience is. I not only have to appeal to specialists in composition and rhetoric, I have to make sure that my subject and argument holds value for literature specialists as well. It was interesting to consider that despite the separation between literature and rhet/comp studies, we are still lumped together in unexpected contexts. As I spent my Thanksgiving weekend carefully reading my writing sample, checking for continuity errors and loose argument progression, I employed a strategy I had never thought of doing. I physically cut up my paper and rearranged the paragraphs to improve cohesion. My point in relaying all this information is primarily reflective. I realized that as tutors, instructors, etc. we impart wisdom upon our students and occasionally find ourselves not following our own strategies. We stress things like audience and higher order concerns in one on one appointments and as I consider my own struggles in polishing my paper, I realize that I’ve barely been practicing what I’ve been preaching for several years. I always encourage my students to read and re-read their work before making alterations or edits, and yet since I started writing my sample, I did not read it from start to finish until very recently. I didn’t consider the issue of sensitivity to a varied audience, assuming that my readers would understand my subject matter. It was a humbling moment and as I continue to trudge through the process I have to reevaluate and ultimately change my own personal methodology. But the greater point I’m trying to make is that I feel that we all fall into this practice at some point, novice writers and experts alike, (to borrow Canagarajah’s terms). And this is where collaborative instruction becomes so valuable because when you are immersed in your work, you might not notice things a second reader would. It goes to show that there no such thing as perfection in composition and that writers of any stage can continue to evolve and improve.