Showing posts with label letters of recommendation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label letters of recommendation. Show all posts

Thursday, August 6, 2009

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!

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Paper or Plastic?

My recommendation materials have been, to quote Stevie Wonder, "signed, sealed, and delivered" to my recommendors and I feel great. You'd think that such a thing would be a simple enough affair -- ask your three people to write you some letters -- but as I found out in my research, recommendations, if done properly and on time, are a complicated affair. Can you accommodate the timeline of all of your recommendors? What level of involvement should you have with your recommendors? Butout of all the questions I had to answer, the one that was the far most difficult to answer was whether I wanted to send the materials to my recommendors by paper or email.

You might notice that nowadays most major schools encourage their applicants to use their online applications. And in general, this is a great idea, for both the school and the applicant. There's little to no paper or ink used, the computerized applications have a far less likely hood of being lost or delayed, etc. These schools even extend their online capabilities to recommendations. It seems simple enough. Just enter your recommendor's information into an online form, and the school's system will email them instructions on how to upload their letters online. Maybe even answer a couple questions. No muss, no fuss, right? Maybe. When I sat down and really thought about what was being asked of each of my recommendors, I began to realize how daunting the process was going to be. I'm applying to fourteen schools -- which means fourteen customized letters, fourteen cover sheets, fourteen different forms or general questions each school is asking. And while it would seem easy enough to put that into email terms -- electronic forms are easier to handle than paper ones, right? -- several problems rear their heads. For starters, if my email inbox is any indication of how most people keep and organize their emails, then I couldn't realistically expect my recommendors to keep track of each of the fourteen emails the schools would be sending them. Plus, we'd be talking about fourteen emails in the span of 1-2 hours (logging into a school's account and filling out all 3 recommendors' information takes at least 5-10 minutes each), not all at once. If I'm sending emails to someone's account over the span of 1-2 hours, then we'd be talking about fourteen emails intermixed with perhaps a dozen or so other personal emails. And on top of all that consider this note, which is a warning that some schools, like Notre Dame and the University of Indiana, put during their email submission process: Please note that notification emails will indicate "University of Notre Dame - the Graduate School" as the sender but will come from support@ApplyYourself.com. If they use a spam-blocking tool, please ask them to add this email address to their list of known/safe addresses. What? Spam-blockers? What kind of email account doesn't have some form of spam blocking software in this day and age? The opportunities for an email or two slipping through the cracks are simply too great.

I understand that at this point, I probably sound like a raving paranoid lunatic, but consider this: Whose job is it to make the process as simple and easy as possible? Whose job is it to make sure all the letters are received and sent on time without fuss? If a school or two falls through the cracks, who's going to worry about it -- you or the recommendor? Certainly, if your recommendor is a decent human being -- and they all are, or we wouldn't ask them to write us words of praise -- then they might ask about where this or that school's email went, but would you really expect them to look out for your big picture? At the end of the day, you are your own greatest advocate. It's as simple as that. And if you don't do the dirty work, if you don't follow up and make sure that what needs to be done actually gets done, then no one else will.

Which is why I decided to go low-tech and send out the letters by paper. One big package, with all fourteen envelopes and the correct cover letters, and one big manila envelope inside for them to mail the entire thing back to me when they're done. And when I get them back, I'll know exactly where they're going and when, and if something goes wrong, it'll be because I didn't do something right. Am I a control freak? Most certainly. But I'd rather put it in my hands than someone else's.