When I first started working with Joel, it struck me as a bit odd that there are so many photo contests run by professional organizations. If you win “Accountant of the Year” or “Region 6 Farmer of the Year,” you might get a plaque or a certificate, but it isn’t slathered all over the web quite the way photo contest winners are. Plus, isn’t a little ego-maniacal to enter one’s own work for Photographer of the Year? For awards like Teacher of the Year, it’s usually others doing the nominating.

So, why enter other than the thrill of tacking a superlative on your resume? It’s really good for business. The people who hire photographers for shoots and who buy stock images watch these competitions, and even an honorable mention will help your name stand out among thousands of colleagues. It’s also a chance to look over a year’s work and figure out if you’ve missed any really interesting frames or if outtakes from a story can be repackaged.

Now, the “why me” part: A few years ago, I made white-knuckle runs to FedEx to make the deadline for submitting materials to photo contests. If I didn’t hit the stoplights just right, I’d wind up pounding on the windows and making sad puppy eyes while displaying the prepaid shipping label.

In the digital era, the white knuckle drive is gone and replaced by hours of watching an upload bar tick its way to completion. ( Joel nearly had a stroke each time the ‘time remaining’ field recalculated. The final straw was his nigh-ghostly pallor when it refreshed to read 9 hours left.)

Both then and now, we try to get done early every year. It never works.

Maybe it’s the way J-schools and newspapers and magazines run: there is no reward for early completion, but whatever you turn in had better be your absolute best. This culture of deadlines turns journalists into adrenaline junkies. That’s why we’re always up against the wall at the last possible minute when it comes to contest. Joel can’t function without his adrenaline. The endorphins feed his inner aesthete, which delivers a better product in a shorter time than non-stressed Joel.

When I started this post, I was on hour fifteen of a seventeen hour work day. It’s nothing compared to the long days some people work, but I will freely admit that I’m a wimp who likes regular sleep sessions of at least seven hours in length. I postponed publishing because I wasn’t even sure I was writing in English any more. I’m no fan of reckless driving, but I think I preferred a last-minute rush to FedEx to interminable uploads.