14 things about the MFA
After doing more musing on what I've gotten out of the first year of an MFA program, I've come up with a list of 14 generalities that I think reflect the experience (or at least my experience) pretty accurately.
1. Everyone who goes gets something out of it, but everyone gets something different. No two MFA experiences are the same.
2. At some point in the first year, you will doubt many things: your ability, your commitment, your talent, your discipline, even why you write at all. You believe no one in the outside world cares about what you're doing.
3. You will be more moody than you've ever been in your life. Probably more self-absorbed too. I remember thinking, Geez, maybe I should get a cat, just so I have someone to take care of besides myself.
4. You will probably find only one or two other writers whose writing you would actually go out and buy to read.
5. You will encounter some incredibly arrogant pricks. (Male and female, though usually male.)
6. You will, from time-to-time, believe that your writing is way better than almost everyone else in your class.
7. You will, from time-to-time, (usually after workshop), believe that your writing is so atrocious that even the girl who writes really sentimental fiction that you can't stand writes better than you.
8. You begin to wonder what literary fiction really means, and who reads it?
9. If you're lucky, you get all the writing-for-other-people out of the way in the first year, and start writing for yourself again. Also, you stop believing by the second semester that your professor knows everything there is to know about what makes writing good.
10. You will learn to distill the gems from the bullshit.
11. You will be humbled, and you will admire everyone who tries to do this forever after. Writing is one of the hardest things in the world to do well. I often tell my mom that being a surgeon would be much easier than being a writer, and I truly believe that. She's starting to, too.
12. You will learn a vocabulary for dealing with your weaknesses. You will be able to express what's wrong with your writing and thus understand what to do with your writing in revision.
13. You will become a better reader. You will see more of the construction of writing than you ever have before. This has the double-edged effect of making you appreciate really great fiction more keenly, while also making you stick your tongue out at stuff that hasn't been composed with great care and effort. You can become a bit of a snob in this way.
14. You will worry that you have nothing to say. If you're lucky, you will realize that the way you see the world can be interesting to everyone, and that your experience of the world is valid, and that you have the right to write.
1. Everyone who goes gets something out of it, but everyone gets something different. No two MFA experiences are the same.
2. At some point in the first year, you will doubt many things: your ability, your commitment, your talent, your discipline, even why you write at all. You believe no one in the outside world cares about what you're doing.
3. You will be more moody than you've ever been in your life. Probably more self-absorbed too. I remember thinking, Geez, maybe I should get a cat, just so I have someone to take care of besides myself.
4. You will probably find only one or two other writers whose writing you would actually go out and buy to read.
5. You will encounter some incredibly arrogant pricks. (Male and female, though usually male.)
6. You will, from time-to-time, believe that your writing is way better than almost everyone else in your class.
7. You will, from time-to-time, (usually after workshop), believe that your writing is so atrocious that even the girl who writes really sentimental fiction that you can't stand writes better than you.
8. You begin to wonder what literary fiction really means, and who reads it?
9. If you're lucky, you get all the writing-for-other-people out of the way in the first year, and start writing for yourself again. Also, you stop believing by the second semester that your professor knows everything there is to know about what makes writing good.
10. You will learn to distill the gems from the bullshit.
11. You will be humbled, and you will admire everyone who tries to do this forever after. Writing is one of the hardest things in the world to do well. I often tell my mom that being a surgeon would be much easier than being a writer, and I truly believe that. She's starting to, too.
12. You will learn a vocabulary for dealing with your weaknesses. You will be able to express what's wrong with your writing and thus understand what to do with your writing in revision.
13. You will become a better reader. You will see more of the construction of writing than you ever have before. This has the double-edged effect of making you appreciate really great fiction more keenly, while also making you stick your tongue out at stuff that hasn't been composed with great care and effort. You can become a bit of a snob in this way.
14. You will worry that you have nothing to say. If you're lucky, you will realize that the way you see the world can be interesting to everyone, and that your experience of the world is valid, and that you have the right to write.
posted by Tiffany Hamburger at
10:13 AM
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