In the olden days I would have deleted everything except:

She's not bold or brave. She's controlled by the wind and the whispers.



The note said that she would like something different and her change of mind came from second thought. If she had spoken her request, I may have asked some questions, like "Who said they didn't like it?"

She's not bold or brave. She's controlled by the wind and the whispers.

I didn't disagree with her but I would have argued the point. The invite ended up being printing on one side of a half sheet of regular paper. It looked fine and was technically correct but it seemed to be a mere imposter to the true invitation.

She requested a quarter sheet size with text centered right down the middle and on the flip side of the card stock, she requested the three business logos. Her suggestion was for something more like was done last time for the Fall.

I first was angry, after all who is she to question me, who is she to question my art. Her request would require twice the print time and three times the amount of cuts. I wanted to strengthen my resolve to change. I even tried. But truth was I didn't like the original invitation either.

I made the decision to change the invite and to include all her suggestions but to make it so plain that the recipient would think no more of it than some forgotten innocuous dream.

I opened the file to the original invite, saved it as version two and then stripped all the style away. What was left was crammed into a border half the size of the original. I then went to work on the back side and in the process of making it forgettable, I was left with something basic, something casual, something summertime.

"Delete it!" my anger yelled but my anger knew the shout was in vain. My anger knows when it's only a partner in my decision making, that my sense of morality wins out.

I moved the basic design to the front side and formatted the text to inhabit the new space. I then went back and finished the second side.

I printed and cut 120 invitations. I knew she would need more but she had not given me a quantity, I was making a point. The trouble was that we were running out of time, I put off making the invites for two weeks before I showed her anything and it took her a week to say she wanted something different. "A hundred and twenty isn't going to be enough," the words were lobbed from some dark corner of my mind and landed on that pile of guilt which sits under the only source of illumination. It was a good shot, the words landed right on top and then I watched then slowly slithered down, glistening under the harsh light.

So, there I was at yet another crossroad, one road went high while the other went low. I had just taken an uphill walk with the design. I felt I was due a low road. But I couldn't quite put myself above the job to the point of risking task to fail. More invites were needed, and I was the only one that could print them out, I really had no choice. I printed out another batch which would bring the finished total to two hundred and sixty, enough to start the mailing, if more where needed for handing out, there would still be time.

But still I was questioned, regardless whether it was right or wrong, regardless of a better product being produced, I needed to express my dismay, I needed to send a message.

I left the second batch uncut.