File Management is Scary

Let’s talk about file management for a moment. But first, a scary tale about my past (it’s Halloween, like I’d let that pass without something to say).

True story – I based my Masters thesis on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

One of my graduate classes focused on “Speculative Fiction” (or “Spec Fic”) which is the academic term for Science Fiction and Fantasy. The course took us on a more-or-less historical tour of the genre, starting with a sample of myths and legends, then spring boarding to early Spec Fic works (such as Mary Shelley’s contribution) and into more modern novels and stories. Frankenstein stuck in my head since high school, where my senior year English teacher threw out the traditional curriculum (she thought it was boring) and substituted most of the major horror classics. The only one she couldn’t teach was Dracula (I think because some of its imagery may have been considered inappropriate for young readers). Frankenstein appealed to me back then, so when I came across it again in my graduate studies, it felt like I was visiting an old friend. Not feeling much inspiration from any of my other classes, I made it my focus for my Masters thesis, and eventually cranked out a paper that was both fun and a challenge to write.1

After spending far more time in the university library than was probably healthy (and at the risk of dating myself, this was when that crazy “internet” was just becoming a thing, but not quite the resource it is now…kids have it easy today), I finally found a subject area to focus on – the aspects and dynamics of guilt and responsibility. I centered on where the line was drawn between Victor and his creation, or rather, how difficult it is to find that line. I pored over academic articles and critical analyses, researched the psychology of guilt to the point of almost earning a second degree, and even watched several movie and television versions for their perspectives (including one of my all time favorites – Young Frankenstein – okay, to be fair, that was more of an excuse to watch it again). Finishing my thesis was the last task in my academic career, and I was proud and relieved when my professor signed off on it and my diploma showed up in the mail.2

Now, at the risk of dating myself even more, almost all of my personal and graduate school documents, papers, and projects were stored on 3.5 inch floppy disks, and keeping them in order and safe from harm was a chore in itself. Eventually, my storage needs shifted to writable CDs, but again, making sure they were safe and organized was another chore. As time went on, my data storage needs moved along with advances in home computers, and soon enough, we arrived in this day and age where everything is saved on hard drives or in the Cloud. Everything I kept electronically (e.g., documents, pictures, music files) that once took dozens of disks, now fit on a chip smaller than a fingernail. I still marvel at how my entire music collection (approximately 350 CDs) is all stored on my cell phone.

What I wouldn’t have given for these kinds of resources back in my broke college student days.

Years ago, I realized that I was hanging on to floppy disks that I didn’t need anymore – the very same files (or so I thought) were either safely stored on my computer, or backed up on my external hard drive. So, in a great moment of satisfaction, I purged my desk of those floppy disks – clearing them of data and sending them to the great recycling bin in the sky. I held onto a few CDs with a handful of games or other sentimental files, but even those eventually were tossed away because I didn’t want/need them, or didn’t have a drive to use with them (I barely remember the last time I had a computer with any kind of disk drive). As someone who hates clutter and can be a little obsessive about keeping things organized, this was a nearly orgasmic experience. And for a while, I was feeling pretty good about that state of my files.

But it took one little work discussion to bring that all crashing down.

At a previous job, we were comparing our college experiences and achievements, and I went on about my Frankenstein thesis effort. One coworker said they wanted to see my paper, so when I was home that evening, I attacked my archives to find that ancient Word file to send them.

Except, I couldn’t find it.

In what amounted to a near full-on panic, I searched high and low and in every damn folder for my college files, but couldn’t find them anywhere – not on my computer, my external hard drive, no where. I was absolutely sure that I had saved everything, but couldn’t find the files to save my life. I was devastated – three years of my academic life were gone, never to be seen again. The disks were either recycled into something else or sitting in the depths of a rancid landfill. I even tried reaching out to my school, but since I didn’t go on to a PhD, they didn’t save a copy of my thesis, and my professor had since retired.

To this day, the two things I regret most about my twenties is not hanging onto more of my old artwork and not properly saving those damn files.3

Okay, so what the Hell does this have to do with proposals?

Proposal work involves the creation, collection, and dissemination of A LOT of data and documents. Every job description I’ve ever read in my line of work makes a point of candidates having strong organizational skills. I cannot stress enough how important this is – especially because the proposal process frequently results in so many copies and versions of proposal and support documents. Not to mention our near constant chore of tracking other users and ensuring they aren’t creating, moving around, or deleting files. Those files tell the story of how the proposal was developed, and there have been more than a few instances where I’ve had to go back through a proposal effort’s files to track down one tiny but crucial detail. Good documentation and file management will save your hide more than you’ll ever know.

I’ve had to take on the job of surveying and cleaning up previous files left behind or managed by predecessors. Some did a more-or-less orderly collection of files and folders needing minor tweaks, and others a pile of chaotic files wrapped up inside a hot mess.

Once I was done reorganizing those messes, the files and their storage structures made a lot more sense, but I still can’t help wonder about what went missing or stored away on an individual’s machine. The good news is most files like that date far enough back to not be very critical to today. However, one of the most important aspects of a proposal manager’s work is to make sure that any and everything is saved.

Think of it as making sure the next person in your shoes doesn’t have a panic attack like I did over my lost graduate school files.

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1 My professor tried convincing me not to write about Frankenstein arguing it had been analyzed to death. I countered with the fact that I didn’t plan on going after my PhD anyway, so all I needed was for him to eventually sign off on it. He acquiesced and tried convincing me to work on a comparison between it and more modern versions of the story, but I hated the modern works he picked out, so it was back to just writing about Shelley’s tale.

2 Although I wrapped up my class requirements, it took me a few years to finish a few outstanding projects and my thesis. By the time I was done, I had absolutely no desire to go back to college and accept in-person. I enjoyed my undergrad experience, but my graduate school days left a bad taste in my mouth (I didn’t like how one or two of my professors treated me, I realized that I didn’t want to be at a college for the rest of my life, and some of my fellow grad students were more-or-less petty, egoist assholes).

3 I minored in Studio Art in college, but found that I was a much better writer than artist. Although I still have a few “good” examples of my attempts at art, you’ll have to trust me on this one.