Retrospective: Everything Else

Okay, it's about time I tie up all the loose ends regarding my experience applying to MFA programs last fall. I wrote a retrospective on my Statement of Purpose and a retrospective on the very general topic of choosing wisely when making your MFA school list in previous posts some time ago. So what about everything else required in the MFA application process? They are, by my count, the:

• GPA
• GRE Verbal scores
• Critical essay
• Recommendations
  
• Manuscript

Let's go over each of these one by one.

On GPA: I've complained about GPA requirements before, and have come to the happy conclusion, based on my experience with applications and where I had been accepted, that GPAs mostly do not matter. A little background. My undergraduate GPA was a horrible 2.46. Very low. Many schools have a "minimum 3.0" GPA requirement, either explicitly listed on their website or buried away in the graduate school's handbook online. At any rate, my score and many schools' requirements did not engender me with much confidence. So what I did was a hybrid approach. I actively searched for schools that did not have the "minimum 3.0" requirement, and was especially careful to read all the literature available on each schools' website. In addition, for the schools that I had my sights set on which did have GPA requirements, I emailed politely, asking if said requirement was a hard and fast rule, and whether my application would be considered holistically. Those were the schools I applied to.

Looking back on my experience, I think I can confidently say that, in general, the GPA requirement is a grad school one. The extent to which a program can "ignore" a potential candidate's poor GPA is dependent more upon how much latitude that program has within a school. Some grad schools have short leashes on their MFA programs, while others are free to ignore them completely. In cases of Iowa and Michigan, for example, I did not find any language on their websites pertaining to GPA requirements, and in fact, Michigan's website goes out of their way to say that their MFA applicants do not need to complete their "Worksheet for Computing GPA." This makes sense, as both of these schools are top-five caliber programs with tremendous cachet and influence. I can't imagine a grad school complaining about their methods of accepting and screening the students they wish for their programs. So, long story short, GPA isn't a problem if you prepare for it. Make sure the schools you apply to won't immediately disregards your application because of it, and you'll be fine.

On GRE Verbal scores: I've extensively outlined my basic strategies on how to improve your GRE Verbal scores here and here. As to the big question of how important these scores actually are, I'd have to guess that they're not important at all, even less important that the GPA. While the GPA is often used as a minimum watermark for many schools out there, I've only seen one school require a minimum GRE Verbal score, Ohio State University. All the others, with about maybe a little over half requiring the scores to be officially submitted, do not outline what scores, if any are preferable. Personally, I think GRE Verbal scores are redundant to the GPAs. What can a grad school see in your GRE scores that informs your academic (or intellectual) abilities that they can't already see in your GPA? If anything, a GRE scores merely says whether or not you can do well on a really hard test. Your GPA? It represents four years of work and effort and, to say nothing about the babysitting institution of college, it suggests a more "real life" barometer of said work and effort. Yes. What your mom always told you was right, your GPA is important. More important, at least, than your GRE scores.

I do want to temper that idea with this, however: there's NO reason to mail it in with your GRE scores if you can help it. You definitely do not want to give the graduate school a reason, however insignificant, to disqualify your application. And who wants to turn in a GRE Verbal score of 300 anyways? While a high GRE score can say any number of things -- you're smart, you're well read, you take tests well, you prepare -- a really low GRE score can really say only one thing if you're serious about writing: you didn't take the GREs seriously. And if you don't take a test that you know about several months ahead of time seriously, how can a school take your application seriously? Take the test. It sucks, it takes up a lot of brainspace, and it's a waste of time, but it's important. The GREs in a nutshell.

On the Critical Essay: Of the schools I applied to, two required a critical essay: Purdue and Ohio State University. A critical essay, as requested from Ohio State's website is a paper that should "demonstrate the applicant's ability to write clear expository prose and to construct a persuasive argument." It's a good definition as any. General consensus will also tell you that the best candidate for a previously written critical essay (so you wouldn't have to write one ground up from scratch) is one that was written from your time in undergrad school, something, ideally, having to do with literature or literature analysis. For some, this prospect may be simple, having majored in English or English Lit as an undergrad. For many, however, this becomes a tricky subject, as the last time most have written a paper for an English class (as with me) was sometime in freshman year, probably during first year composition or rhetoric. And if your writing quality was anything like mine at eighteen, well... the less said the better. So what to do? Short of majoring in anything other than mathematics or statistics, chances are that the major you did end up with required some sort of paper writing. Mine was genetics, which, unfortunately, was a subject where all the stuff I was writing was far too technical and insular to be of any use to an application committee. I ended up combing through all my old essays (fortunately I never throw anything away), and found a paper on existentialism on a philosophy class I took as a junior. The paper itself was poorly written by my standards today, but it provided a decent skeleton from which to work with. I ended up revising it heavily to bring it up to par, but it totaled far less work and time than if I had picked a random subject and wrote from scratch.

A common question is whether or not subject matter is important. There are some schools that specifically request a paper that is based in literature or literature analysis. This is again a situation where, if necessary, I'd suggest contacting the school for clarification. A lot of times, these requirements are not hard rules, but rather guidelines (like GPA requirements set by grad schools) to steer applicants towards a single set of standards. In general, I'd suggest keeping your critical essay in the general humanities. That an essay isn't about postmodernism or literary theory isn't very important, in my opinion; it seems to me that what a school is using these essays for is to determine whether you can think and write critically about a subject. Remember, these schools are not only asking you to write, but also teach, which often requires are completely different set of skills from creative writing or poetry. Critical thinking and writing, for example.

On Recommendations: I haven't written too much on the art of recommendations, primarily because I did not have the sparkling recommendation from the world famous professor who took me under his/her tutelage in college. In fact, my recommendations were rather run-of-the-mill: two supervisors from work and a writing group member. I can really only say a couple things on recommendations. First, get them done early, as early as possible. It is your responsibility to make sure the schools receive these letters on time and sealed, not your recommendors. They're doing a favor for you, sometimes a tremendous favor, and the easier your make it for them to do their job, the happier they'll be. And it seems to me very obvious to keep your recommendors as happy as possible. Second, make sure you choose the right people to write you recommendations. This is one of those "obvious in theory, but hard in practice" things. Given the choice between a coworker who knows your writing really well and speak on you behalf on a close personal and professional level, and, say... Cormac McCarthy, who just signed your copy of "The Road," I'd suggest going with the coworker. Okay, so that's an extreme example, but I do think there is a certain art in choosing who you want to speak on your behalf. Obviously, you'd want them to be authority figures in your life, people who have seen your work and work ethic. But do you go with the person who knows you very well, but may not have the sterling or relevant background to creative writing, or do you go with the world-famous professor with whom you've taken one class under and may or may not remember your name? An application committee may pause at the famous name on the top of the letterhead, but they'll remember the story about how your insight singlehandedly helped turn someone's story into a work of art.

On the Manuscript: Not much to say here, unfortunately. This is all you, and no amount of offhand blog advice can replace good, old fashioned practice. There's no other way to do it, believe me, I've tried. BUT, if you really want to know: Feedback, critical unflinching feedback, is always good. Take a craft class over the summer. Some are better than others, so do your research. Go to a writer's conference. Found a writing group. The last one is often the best option, because it's free, and infinitely more valuable if you find a great group of people. Pick up other hobbies. It's a good way to give yourself space from writing. But don't procrastinate. (Or try not to.) And write. Write, write, write. Everything else is gravy -- feedback, a support group of friends, family, and coworkers -- but at the end of the day, they won't be the ones producing work, you will. This is by far the most important element of your application, with the Statement of Purpose coming in at a distant second. Make it count. Good luck!