What happens when the faculty in charge of accepting and rejecting applicants from MFA programs voice their process on the MFA Blog? You get one of the most informative and insightful comment sections you'll ever read on the extremely subjective process that is deciding who gets in and who doesn't. I don't think it's any exaggeration that if you've already applied to MFAs this year or are planning on applying for next year, that this post is a must-read.
The comment that really caught my eye was Mr. Porter Shreve's (of Purdue University) observation: "Based on what I’ve seen thus far we’re looking at record numbers and one of the most talented pools of applicants I’ve come across at the four schools where I’ve served on admissions: the University of Michigan, the University of Oregon, the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, and here at Purdue." First off, it's a very frightening comment. But, as I had previously noted on the Speakeasy Forum, and in a previous blog post, it's also not surprising in the least. I've been researching MFA programs since the winter of last year in preparation for this season, and nearly all the resources -- the relative popularity of Tom Kealey's MFA Handbook, his website, funding opportunities, etc. -- and articles I've read suggest that MFAs are a hot item. Frankly speaking, applications to MFA programs have been increasing for years, and will continue to increase without plateau, much less decrease, for the near future. Which, of course, means more competition.
It's not terribly surprising. The money's there. As long as schools are fully funding students to do nothing but teach and write, I can't imagine a situation where this idea won't be appealing to people out there -- both the talented and untalented. Creative writing and poetry hold a romantic spot in the hearts of many in the United States -- how many times have you heard "oh, I have to finish that book" from total strangers, characters on TV, in movies? Why couldn't they do it for real? And as a poster on the Speakeasy notes, in this economy, it stands to reason that there is much more incentive for people to reconsider their options on "doing it for real." Why not weather the economic storm with a writing program? Sure, you'll be making peanuts, but you'll love what you're doing, which is more than you can (probably) say about your current job, which you may or may not have by the end of this year. It simply makes sense.
I know I sound like Debbie Downer right now. But I think adjusting expectation is one of the most important things to keeping sane during this trying time of year. Does this mean you can't have hope? Well, no, not necessarily. Hope is a good thing. It's what gets me through my days. At this point, all I'm trying to avoid is delusion.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
On Bad Writing
In between the days and weeks spent vacillating between being convinced that I'll be summarily rejected from every school I applied to and wondering which campus would be more picturesque, a more satisfying experience, I managed to (briefly) distract myself from the worries of waiting when I stumbled on some of my old writing. Really old writing. The stuff I had written as parts of exercises for my very first Creative Writing class ever, in college. Also some stuff I had written outside of class, but sadly, no less painful to read. Oh, and 60-70 pages worth of junk written for the National Writing Month of November. What did I do with this bounty of writing? I read it.
What's the point of all this? First, never throw (or delete) anything away. What may not save you from embarrassment will surely more than make up in hilarity years down the road. Second, reading the stuff I wrote four, five years ago is highly informative. It's so easy to see all the mistakes, the cliches, the false starts, the corny endings I had used ad-naseum in those stories. It also brings me back to my old processes as a writer. I suddenly remember where I wrote this story, why I wrote that story, how I came to this idea or that. To me, it's incredibly informative, because it shows me where I have come from and how I came to be where I am, and in some ways, reminds me how to capture the naive, childish passions that made me excited to write in the first place. Finally, it also serves as a reminder as to how far I've come as a writer and how incredibly far I still have to go.
But it's also a fun ride, if you can weather, even find amusement in the truly cringe-worthy examples. Here are some choice bits of some of the stuff I wrote in college:
"...It was as if I was being torn from two unseen forces. One was pulling me to pound on the door, to see what lay behind it for me. The other pulled me in the opposite direction, pleading my to save my soul, to run away like a coward but to live to fight another day..."
Poorly written and over-dramatic much? Brings chills of embarrassment down my spine. Here's another gem:
"...Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and armed with a Masters in Computer Avionics, Rice felt like he could change the world for the better..."
Yes. The main character's name was Rice, as in the grain. Ah well. They can't all be winners.
What's the point of all this? First, never throw (or delete) anything away. What may not save you from embarrassment will surely more than make up in hilarity years down the road. Second, reading the stuff I wrote four, five years ago is highly informative. It's so easy to see all the mistakes, the cliches, the false starts, the corny endings I had used ad-naseum in those stories. It also brings me back to my old processes as a writer. I suddenly remember where I wrote this story, why I wrote that story, how I came to this idea or that. To me, it's incredibly informative, because it shows me where I have come from and how I came to be where I am, and in some ways, reminds me how to capture the naive, childish passions that made me excited to write in the first place. Finally, it also serves as a reminder as to how far I've come as a writer and how incredibly far I still have to go.
But it's also a fun ride, if you can weather, even find amusement in the truly cringe-worthy examples. Here are some choice bits of some of the stuff I wrote in college:
"...It was as if I was being torn from two unseen forces. One was pulling me to pound on the door, to see what lay behind it for me. The other pulled me in the opposite direction, pleading my to save my soul, to run away like a coward but to live to fight another day..."
Poorly written and over-dramatic much? Brings chills of embarrassment down my spine. Here's another gem:
"...Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and armed with a Masters in Computer Avionics, Rice felt like he could change the world for the better..."
Yes. The main character's name was Rice, as in the grain. Ah well. They can't all be winners.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Road
Just finished The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I realize there's nothing I can really say about this book that hasn't already been said, except that you really need to read it if you haven't already. As a piece of art and literature, it's pretty freaking brilliant, but more than that, it manages to be incredibly accessible while maintaining a level of prose that is still fairly difficult in terms of pure craft. Probably the reason why (well, Oprah certainly helps too) it has been so successful both critically and comercially. Oh, and it's being made into a movie as well, so you'll definitely want to catch the book before it comes out to avoid being the person who ends up reading the book when the movie's all popular. Not a mistake I'll make twice after Fight Club.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Wrestler
I hope there are others out there who have seen The Wrestler so at least they can understand the unrequited love I'm about to lavish on this movie. For everyone else -- go see The Wrestler. It's the best movie I've seen in years, a pure character study, a movie that hasn't made me feel this way about a fictional movie character since Half Nelson. Plus, it's also crushingly sad. Always a good combination. For the people who have seen the movie, continue below.
***Warning: Spoilers Below***
I am a short story lover. What struck me so clearly about The Wrestler when it was over was how much like a short story it is, in structure, form, and arc. Specifically, the scope of the plot is not very wide, and little to nothing really happens from beginning to end, in terms of significant character movement. Main character Randy "The Ram" Robinson wrestles. A health complication severely limits his wrestling way of life. He tries to amend his relationship with his daughter, but fails. He tries to start a relationship with a stripper named Cassidy, but fails, in a different way. Randy goes back to wrestling, and literally gives his life to it. Yes, The Ram dies, which is a rather big plot moment, but his death feels more like a natural progression rather than a turn in the story. His death happens off screen, is heavily implied, and is an infinitely more graceful note than "oh my god the main character has just kicked the bucket, which is your cue to cry your eyes out" type of ending. There's no cheap trick. There's no smoke and mirrors. The way the piece is structured, it couldn't have ended any other way without being less than perfect. (And personally speaking, the ending is perfect.)
This is what's so unique about The Wrestler. It has such an economy of story and a control of scope that appears in so many great short stories -- "Cathedral" by Raymond Carver comes to mind. It gets you caring about the little characters and the little things. Did you ever think you'd find yourself getting teary-eyed for an over-the-hill professional wrestler, whose body has been abused by men the size of linebackers and countless steroids and drugs, who frequents a strip bar enough to be known by name, who hasn't seen his daughter in years, maybe decades?
Nothing life changing or revolutionary ends up happening in the end. But in a story like this, that's the way it's supposed to be, right? There's a place for the movie or book, where the teacher inspires the school against all odds, or where the leader compels his people to successfully overthrow the tyrant, or where the good guys emphatically triumph over the bad guys. Those are good stories, long stories, epic stories. But there are so few stories like The Wrestler. A true short story. A story modest in scope and breadth, but more than makes up in depth and heart. A story that possesses an inevitability without cheapness, and shows us a man who ultimately decides to die for the one thing he's ever truly loved in his life, something that has in turn, however cruelly, has always loved him back, because he's never known any other way. To change would be too hard, and to change would be a completely different kind of story.
***Warning: Spoilers Below***
I am a short story lover. What struck me so clearly about The Wrestler when it was over was how much like a short story it is, in structure, form, and arc. Specifically, the scope of the plot is not very wide, and little to nothing really happens from beginning to end, in terms of significant character movement. Main character Randy "The Ram" Robinson wrestles. A health complication severely limits his wrestling way of life. He tries to amend his relationship with his daughter, but fails. He tries to start a relationship with a stripper named Cassidy, but fails, in a different way. Randy goes back to wrestling, and literally gives his life to it. Yes, The Ram dies, which is a rather big plot moment, but his death feels more like a natural progression rather than a turn in the story. His death happens off screen, is heavily implied, and is an infinitely more graceful note than "oh my god the main character has just kicked the bucket, which is your cue to cry your eyes out" type of ending. There's no cheap trick. There's no smoke and mirrors. The way the piece is structured, it couldn't have ended any other way without being less than perfect. (And personally speaking, the ending is perfect.)
This is what's so unique about The Wrestler. It has such an economy of story and a control of scope that appears in so many great short stories -- "Cathedral" by Raymond Carver comes to mind. It gets you caring about the little characters and the little things. Did you ever think you'd find yourself getting teary-eyed for an over-the-hill professional wrestler, whose body has been abused by men the size of linebackers and countless steroids and drugs, who frequents a strip bar enough to be known by name, who hasn't seen his daughter in years, maybe decades?
Nothing life changing or revolutionary ends up happening in the end. But in a story like this, that's the way it's supposed to be, right? There's a place for the movie or book, where the teacher inspires the school against all odds, or where the leader compels his people to successfully overthrow the tyrant, or where the good guys emphatically triumph over the bad guys. Those are good stories, long stories, epic stories. But there are so few stories like The Wrestler. A true short story. A story modest in scope and breadth, but more than makes up in depth and heart. A story that possesses an inevitability without cheapness, and shows us a man who ultimately decides to die for the one thing he's ever truly loved in his life, something that has in turn, however cruelly, has always loved him back, because he's never known any other way. To change would be too hard, and to change would be a completely different kind of story.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Waiting -- An Addendum
Getting back on the writing wagon is harder than I had anticipated. For one thing, it's something that I haven't done in over a month, maybe two. Starting cold, especially after a significant delay is the hardest part of writing. For me, it feels so awkward, so unlike learning how to ride a bike again. There's nothing comfortable about the process; I'll spend an hour here, an hour there listlessly typing a few sentences, then deleting them, then typing a few more. Needless to say, I'm horribly jealous of those who can block all the distractions out, and start and stop at will.
Worse, getting back into the writing habit is infinitely harder, at least for me, with this whole "waiting to hear back from schools" business. And I can only imagine that it'll get harder the close we get to February. Imagine: You know exactly when and by what method each of your top five schools will let their applicants know who has been accepted. You've circled the days on your calendar in a big fat red marker and you're just counting down until that fateful morning when you wake up, receive the call, and run outside in your underwear with joy. But wait. What happens when those days, weeks, passes and no word? Then what?
Not every school will accept you. There's bound to be some rejections -- in fact, it'd be a safe bet to say that the majority of schools you apply to will reject you. That's why we apply to so many. So what happens when February 7th passes by and you hear nothing but crickets? It seems to me like some sort of horrible punishment, an awful torture to subject yourself to. The thing is, these dates are not hard and fast -- in fact, they're anything but. They may give or take a week from year to year. Some students may get the call earlier because they were the ones that the faculty could come to the quickest consensus on. Other students, much later. Some schools roll out their admissions -- a call to three students today, a call to the other three next week. There's the waitlisted folks. A hundred reasons why you may not hear from your beloved school on February 7th, but for all intents and purposes, it'll feel like a bald-faced rejection if you don't get that call. So you wait. And you wait some more. And you still hear nothing. It's the waiting that's excruciating, because even though you know that there's a hundred reasons why one person hears back one day and one another day, the longer you go without hearing, the more and more the odds are falling against your favor. Yet, until that rejection letter comes in the mail, there'll always be that sliver of hope, which is undoubtedly the worst part because it'll make you vascillate between the greatest of joys and lowest of despairs.
Yet, does all this stop me from checking those dates and reading those blogs and visiting those forums? Hell no.
Worse, getting back into the writing habit is infinitely harder, at least for me, with this whole "waiting to hear back from schools" business. And I can only imagine that it'll get harder the close we get to February. Imagine: You know exactly when and by what method each of your top five schools will let their applicants know who has been accepted. You've circled the days on your calendar in a big fat red marker and you're just counting down until that fateful morning when you wake up, receive the call, and run outside in your underwear with joy. But wait. What happens when those days, weeks, passes and no word? Then what?
Not every school will accept you. There's bound to be some rejections -- in fact, it'd be a safe bet to say that the majority of schools you apply to will reject you. That's why we apply to so many. So what happens when February 7th passes by and you hear nothing but crickets? It seems to me like some sort of horrible punishment, an awful torture to subject yourself to. The thing is, these dates are not hard and fast -- in fact, they're anything but. They may give or take a week from year to year. Some students may get the call earlier because they were the ones that the faculty could come to the quickest consensus on. Other students, much later. Some schools roll out their admissions -- a call to three students today, a call to the other three next week. There's the waitlisted folks. A hundred reasons why you may not hear from your beloved school on February 7th, but for all intents and purposes, it'll feel like a bald-faced rejection if you don't get that call. So you wait. And you wait some more. And you still hear nothing. It's the waiting that's excruciating, because even though you know that there's a hundred reasons why one person hears back one day and one another day, the longer you go without hearing, the more and more the odds are falling against your favor. Yet, until that rejection letter comes in the mail, there'll always be that sliver of hope, which is undoubtedly the worst part because it'll make you vascillate between the greatest of joys and lowest of despairs.
Yet, does all this stop me from checking those dates and reading those blogs and visiting those forums? Hell no.
Monday, January 5, 2009
January Blues
What a weekend. Finished my John Hopkins application, which is now in the mail. And in my infinite wisdom, I realized (while filling out the Hopkins application) that I had been answering a very important question on the previous applications as "No," which should have been "Yes." I won't bore you with the exact details, but I think it's sufficient to note that this incorrect answer could very well cost me an acceptance as far as the Graduate Schools are concerned. So I spent all of Sunday afternoon and evening poring over my previous 10 submitted applications to see which ones I gave incorrect information to and which ones I did not. As far as I can tell, only three schools have been impacted, which I frantically emailed last night, begging them to change the information. I have no idea if this can be done, as all three are well past their deadlines, but I don't know what other recourse I have. As of this post, I haven't heard anything back.
So you can imagine how much of a nervous wreck I am now. Three schools in limbo (one of which I'd give an arm and a leg to go to), all of which I still have no idea what to do with. Top it off with a horrible anger and disgust with myself that makes me want to punch a wall and tear my hair out.
Add to this, all the various resources and websites that will tease you unmercifully with thoughts and fantasies of school acceptances. We've entered the perilous "dead time" period where all we have to do in the month of January (and February) is wait, wait, wait. And what do we all do with this free time? We go to The Suburban Ecstasies and check out the Application Response Time list. We browse the Speakeasy Forum and read the ever popular Have you heard yet? thread from beginning to end. We do whatever we can to pour salt into our wounds and torture our fragile psyches. Why do we do this? I don't know. All I know is that as much as I had promised that I'd stay as far away as possible from these websites to preserve what little sanity I have left, I know that I'll probably be reading them daily. What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.
So you can imagine how much of a nervous wreck I am now. Three schools in limbo (one of which I'd give an arm and a leg to go to), all of which I still have no idea what to do with. Top it off with a horrible anger and disgust with myself that makes me want to punch a wall and tear my hair out.
Add to this, all the various resources and websites that will tease you unmercifully with thoughts and fantasies of school acceptances. We've entered the perilous "dead time" period where all we have to do in the month of January (and February) is wait, wait, wait. And what do we all do with this free time? We go to The Suburban Ecstasies and check out the Application Response Time list. We browse the Speakeasy Forum and read the ever popular Have you heard yet? thread from beginning to end. We do whatever we can to pour salt into our wounds and torture our fragile psyches. Why do we do this? I don't know. All I know is that as much as I had promised that I'd stay as far away as possible from these websites to preserve what little sanity I have left, I know that I'll probably be reading them daily. What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
