Retrospective: The Statement of Purpose

In light of Graduate School Deadline Day™, I thought I'd share a copy of the Statement of Purpose I submitted to all the MFA programs I applied to:

My primary goals for pursuing an MFA degree are to significantly improve my writing and to become an integral part of a vibrant, close-knit writing community. To me, both of these goals are intertwined. It is difficult to improve as a writer without the feedback of peers, and similarly, one cannot be a successful member of a writing community without the rigorous application to craft. As such, I have been fortunate to be a part of the same close writing group for the past two years. Through my group’s honest and careful feedback, my writing has vastly improved, and as a result, I have had two of my short stories published: in the Concho River Review, Fall 2007 Issue, and in the Potomac Review, Fall 2008 Issue. I know that without their support, I would not be anywhere near the writer I am today.

By the same token, I understand I still have a great deal to learn. There are many aspects of craft that continue to elude me. For example, I would like to know how to effectively utilize an unreliable narrator, or how to transition from a third-person limited point of view to an omniscient point of view within a single scene. These techniques can only be improved through instruction, careful study, and access to knowledgeable professors. In essence, the intense academic environment provided by the University of Illinois’ MFA program is something that cannot be replicated. I would relish the opportunity to work with and be critiqued by fellow students and professors in such a setting.

In addition to writing, I have various professional and personal strengths to offer to the University of Illinois’ MFA program. Currently, I work as an editor in the newswire industry. In my three years in this position, I have not only been promoted from Associate to Senior Editor, but have also gained extensive experience in the areas of copy editing, professional writing, and documentation writing. Additionally, spending time in a professional environment has taught me the discipline necessary to complete large and small projects on a daily basis. I am more than confident that my real world experience has equipped me with the skills and habits needed to be a successful member of an MFA program.

I am interested in the University of Illinois’ MFA program because of its blend of writing workshops, literature classes, and elective courses on publishing, professional writing, and teaching. The emphasis on a practical range of topics related to creative writing is something that I value highly in a program. I also appreciate the three-year program the University of Illinois provides for its students. While I would savor any chance to study writing at an elite MFA program, a third year would provide more time to research and complete a full manuscript. Additionally, I believe I have much to offer to the University of Illinois. My years of professional experience in copy editing, combined with my personal experience as a contributing member of a close-knit writing community, provides me with a great understanding of what it takes to be a part of a successful program.

Obviously, this SOP varied from school to school. I didn't alter it too much, but I did apply some liberal editing to the last paragraph based on the school, and details specific to each school. I personally think my SOP is a bit wooden, and definitely on the professional side. But then, much of my formal writing experience is steeped in professional and business writing, and I'd be lying if I said that this style wasn't comfortable for me for the Statement of Purpose. Should everyone utilize this voice? Of course not. Being natural in voice and style is important; like writing stories, people can tell when you're faking it.

I should probably include another paragraph of text. Below is a snippet that I placed in some of my SOPs (usually appearing after the second paragraph of the above Statement of Purpose) to the schools that would allow over 500 words:

In regards to my writing, I am interested in exploring the issues of community and culture as it relates to the children of immigrants -- first generation immigrants -- in the United States. I was born and raised in the mostly Caucasian, middle class suburbs of Chicago, yet grew up in a primarily Chinese household. Like my parents, I was not only a minority in name and appearance, but also in culture and community. Most of our family friends were Chinese, I attended Chinese school every Sunday for five years, and we spent entire summers visiting family in Hong Kong. Yet, unlike my parents, being an American was also a far larger part of my identity than it was to them. First generation immigrants are embedded in both cultures, and often, embracing one comes at the expense of the other. To a child or a teenager, this dichotomy is made more complex with issues of identity as it pertains to adolescence and becoming an adult. I want my writing to occupy this space of tension, where to a child, their culture, community, and identity are multi-faceted, complex issues.

A dash of personal background and writing interest. Did it help? To be honest, probably not. It certainly didn't hurt, though. Of all the schools that either waitlisted or accepted me, two (Western Michigan University and Roosevelt) received the "personal" version, and two (the University of Illinois and Notre Dame) received the "vanilla" version. Purdue's case was special, as they asked for an additional written statement answering the questions: "Whose work do you admire? What collection of poetry and/or works of fiction read in the last year have been important to you, and why?" It was fairly simple for me to fold in that one paragraph with some immigrant fiction I had been reading and which were important to me.

In general, I think this is an interesting point, because I had readers who, in general, liked the additional paragraph in my SOP. It gave it a "personal" touch. I, however, was rather ambivalent about the extra paragraph. It felt a little out of place in terms of tone and content. And if a school has even gotten to your SOP, it stands to reason that they've already read and loved your manuscript, and are simply making sure you are a fairly driven, yet normal individual. You hear it over and over again: the manuscript comes first. Which is the reason why, given everything -- the dozens of drafts and the dozens of hours I spent on my SOP -- the Statement of Purpose seems to me both less important and as important as you think. It's fairly important that you try to convey an honest and interesting portrayal of yourself in the SOP. For me, this was utilizing a businesslike approach. Yet, at the same time, there's probably a fairly easy watermark to pass, kind of like a "you must be this sane to ride" type of deal.

But I don't want to dismiss the inherent value in the personal details expressed in the Statement of Purpose. When I first met the Director of the University of Illinois' program, the first few questions she asked me were related to the information and details in my SOP. I was struck by that. In a way, it was her first impression of me as a person, which is something you can never take too lightly.

Winding Down

This next week and a half will be a mad dash for those who are anxiously sitting on their waitlist spots, as people eventually make their decisions before April 15. Good luck! I'll be out of town during the upcoming week, and won't be making any posts in the meantime. However, when I get back, I do intend to do a full retrospective: what did I do wrong, what did I do right, and most importantly, what did I learn? I'm sure I'll have a lot to share; I also intend to post my statement of purpose, verbatim, as well as some other things. So we're not quite done yet (at least, not if you're an MFA nerd, like me).

Statement of Purpose, Redux

I've been re-examining the comments on the MFA Faculty Forum I post on the MFA Blog. Now that everyone's commented, I've specifically noticed that there seemed to be a large emphasis (noted by the directors and faculty; the people who make the application decisions) of the value of Statements of Purposes/Personal Statements. In fact, five out of the eleven contributors exactly mention the importance of SOPs in their evaluation process, which has caused me to revise my original thoughts on the SOP.

First, let's get the obvious out of the way. Application season is all but over, and theorizing at this point in the game is little but "armchair quarterbacking." I understand that. But that doesn't mean we can't pore over every single minutiae, every little crumb of research, right? Right.

With that out of the way, I've noticed that one of the reoccurring themes on faculty members' views on SOPs was how it can (or cannot) speak directly to the applicant's desire and commitment to the craft of writing. The most illuminating quote on SOPs to me was what Mary Biddinger of Northeast Ohio had to say:

"I would encourage statement of purpose writers to 'be themselves' as much as possible, while maintaining a sense of audience, of course. The best statements work in tandem with the writing samples, leaving readers with a lasting overall impression. Students are often surprised when I meet them for the first time and remember some detail from their statement, but the good ones are quite memorable."

Some valuable words, in my opinion. What will a great SOP do? Ideally, it will speak to your passions and motivations as a writer. It will tell the reader what is important to the writer, but won't do so explicitly or (to borrow from Holden Caulfield) sound phony. It'll speak from the heart, and although that may sound corny, it's essentially what writers do implicitly with their writing anyways. Why not their SOPs?

I think what I realize now about SOPs is that it isn't necessarily an issue of templating or style. Business-like, casual, conversational -- does it really matter? What matters is what feels comfortable, what matters is that it tells your story, in your own words. If you fake it, people can and will be able to tell. As for my own SOP -- I do plan on sharing it after most of the acceptances have been sent out -- I used a semi-formal business letter approach. But rereading it, I think I can say that I did it not because I felt it was the style or template that allowed me to most effectively maximize my chances, but because it was what felt most comfortable to me in communicating what my writing was about, and what I was all about. And that, I think, is the most important thing.

Got Motivation?

Damn you John Hopkins and your "different" Statement of Purpose. I'll be honest. It's been awfully hard for me to get up and writing this thing. The fact that John Hopkins' SOP asks for something so vastly different -- a critique of your work rather than a simple, "state your goals and dreams, blah blah blah" -- has severely complicated the enjoyment of my otherwise lazy and uneventful holiday break. My original SOP probably took me 10-15 hours to compose in its entirety, with about close to a dozen rewrites. But then, I was able to slot that SOP to 7-8 schools with only minor changes, and spent maybe a couple hours more heavily editing it for those remaining 2-3 schools. Easy. Minimum work (relatively speaking) for maximum coverage.

With John Hopkins? I could easily spend (and have probably already spent close to) the same amount of time writing my original SOP. The problem is it's for one school. Don't misunderstand -- I would love to go to John Hopkins, I would take that acceptance in a heartbeat if they gave it to me. But the reality is, I'm probably not going to go there. With an acceptance rate of under 5%, I have to be truthful with myself. We're talking about maximum work for minimum coverage.

Add in the fact that I've "come down" from my hard working high, applying to schools a couple weeks ago. A couple weeks ago, when I was in the thick of it, spending 2-4 hours a day checking and double checking each application, reading and rereading each story, making sure I had the right address on each envelope, it would've been easier. There was a kind of purpose in my single minded misery. I wouldn't have minded taking on one more thing back then. Nowadays, motivation is such a bitch. I wake up (or come back from work), stare at the SOP, and think, "I can do this tomorrow. I have so much time." Then I go watch a movie. Or play solitaire. Or read a book. Or write an entry for this blog. Anything but work on that stupid John Hopkins SOP.

John Hopkins Statement of Purpose

Ten of my thirteen applications are now in the bag and mailed off, with two of them (Roosevelt University and Columbia College) having due dates on February 2nd. So as of this post, I'm currently staring down John Hopkins as my last application to finish before I can start to relax again. The word "relax" used in this way is a relative term, of course, as I expect to be a nervous wreck waiting to hear back from schools over the next few months, but that's another post for another day.

So this is what John Hopkins wants in a Statement of Purpose, as requested from their website: "MFA applicants should include in their writing sample a two-page introduction and critique of their work. This statement should give admissions faculty a view to the scope and thoughtfulness of the work submitted and a sense of the student's ability to contribute in the writing workshops."

My first thought when reading this request: Weird. Possibly the weirdest hoop any school has asked me to jump through so far, and that's including the University of Michigan asking me to scan a copy of my undergraduate transcript and upload it to their online application. At first glance, though strange, John Hopkins' request to, in essence, "critique" your own writing seems simple enough, especially for those of us who've been in dedicated writing groups or have taken creative writing classes. I've probably done this same exercise for other people's stories a few dozen times, if not more. And I do pride myself in giving what I think is insightful and meaningful feedback. If nothing else, I always want writers who read my feedback to know I've actually taken the time to read and absorb their stories.

It sounds like an easy enough exercise, right? Maybe. What I've noticed in my half-assed attempts at critiquing my own pieces is that it's incredibly hard to tune out that little voice who questions every sentence I write. "Does that sound too arrogant?" "Is this analysis correct?" "Should I be more confident in my voice here?" First, I'm deathly afraid of sounding like amateur hour when writing anything theory-related when it comes to analysis in this context. Especially when dealing with a school with as much academic prestige as John Hopkins. Second, I've found that in contrast to writing critiques for other people, it's startlingly difficult to bluntly state criticism or praise as simple fact. To me, it feels like there's a strange sort of "presumptuousness" in doing so. The last thing I'd want is to make a number of assumptions about my story that would make the applications committee scratch their heads or disagree with.

I know I'm being ridiculous. Analysis and assumption is precisely what they're looking for. They want us to "give admissions faculty a view to the scope and thoughtfulness of the work submitted and a sense of the student's ability to contribute in the writing workshops." That sounds like a critique to me. To be anything other authoritative and an expert of your own story would be shortchanging yourself.

The Statement of Purpose, Post-Halloween Edition

How important is the SOP really? An important question, I think, to put things into perspective and to save yourself from potentially unnecessary stress. Based on what I've found, not as much as you think. Okay, so you can't come off arrogant or crazy or unable to write, but let's look at the facts. The first thing the vast majority of the programs will do is read your manuscript. It's something that I've read over and over again from a dozen different sources, and it makes sense as a rule. As a program you'll want to give due diligence to the most important aspect of an application before anything else; you'll want to give talent and ability -- what have you -- a first shot above everything else. Programs want that next star writer, they crave it. If a selection committee has gotten past your manuscript enough to give your SOP a chance, then you're already miles ahead of most everyone else -- i.e., the people whose manuscripts have already been disregarded.

So where does that leave the SOP? I've made it a habit of collecting SOPs from kind souls who have offered theirs online or personally (people who've been accepted and attend programs like Johns Hopkins, Western Michigan, Illinois University), and have come to the conclusion that there are two kinds of "basic" SOP styles. The first kind is the standard "business letter" approach. You state your goals for wanting to go to a particular program, outline your accomplishments and achievements, and mention why you'd be such a great addition to their community. It's a lot like a cover letter for a job, except longer, with perhaps a little more background information. The second kind of SOP is the "story" approach. A little quirky in practice, this method tries to charm the reader with a lot more personal, biographic information, told in a more casual voice. And of course, there are those that fall in between.

Quite a range, as one can see. And yet, all (I have five in total) of my examples of SOPs from ex-applicants are people who have gotten into some very good, reputable schools. I think this is valuable to realize because it shows there isn't a one-size-fits all kind of thought here. The plain truth of the matter is that if a school is reading your SOP, then they've already read your manuscript, and will plan to read your letters of rec, comb through your transcript, glance at your GRE scores. Basically, they've gotten to a point where they like your work, and are past the point of "Is this person talented enough?" and have moved to "Is this person a good fit?" It's an important distinction because your goals and SOP will be vastly different if your primary worry is to impress the committee rather than to convince them that you'd be a good, humble, and willing student.

So. My rules of thumb for the SOP: Be genuine (credited to my girlfriend). Be proud of your accomplishments. But be modest. Be willing to learn. Be generous with compliments to the program in question. And most of all, be honest.

Standard Operating Procedures

I like to procrastinate as much as the next person: for example, I have this daily compulsion that involves looking through my list of potential schools, which brings me great comfort, and manages to feel like I'm doing work, without ever having done anything. But as the days go by, and as the month of December and January edge incrementally closer, I find the solace I used to get from list-looking is growing less and less, replaced by... well, panic. The culprit? Statements of Purpose.

On paper, the SOP seems easy enough. Let's take University of Indiana's blurb on what they want from your SOP: " There is no single formula for personal statements. Your personal statement is how you introduce yourself to us-not only as a writer but also as a human being. We want to hear an honest voice, and one that shares our commitment to writing and learning about writing. We want to discern whether the applicant will be a productive and valuable member of our MFA program." Simple, right? But in that seemingly innocuous statement, there lies a maddeningly open requirement: there are no requirements. Talk about whatever you want; tell us about yourself. Well, that's great. There are about a hundred things I could say, a hundred reasons why your program should take me. This represents the most intimidating kind of SOP requirement, in my opinion -- the one that asks you to simply "impress us." Do I talk about my background and how it has informed my writing? What about the writing community and how important it is to me? What about my education, my major, my time in college? Or how about the time spent away from school, how I've take creative writing classes and have been part of the same writing group for the past two years? Or should I just smoosh it all together? I've written and rewritten probably four or five drafts this kind of SOP, each one vastly different from another, and I currently still have no idea where I'm going to go.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there's the school that will ask you, very specifically, what they want from the SOP. Consider the University of Illinois' blurb: "This statement should be a precise and powerfully written intellectual biography. What writers or authors, courses, literary works, critical texts have influenced you? What critical questions, historical or national issues, disciplinary or interdisciplinary interests do you hope to pursue in graduate school and beyond? Why? Why at Illinois in particular?" Very specific, and in many ways, much easier to write. But an issue rears its head when dealing with this kind of SOP: it becomes much more difficult to slot in a SOP from one school to another. The questions you answer and the specific praise that you lavish on the University of Illinois does not easily translate to Syracuse's SOP or Ohio State's SOP. Depending on the specificity of what those schools ask of your SOP, you will find yourself tooling and retooling that 500-600 word essay over and over and over again.

All part of the job, I know. Schools expect this, and quite frankly the moment you decide to apply to grad school, you should expect this. But the sheer number of different SOPs carefully tailored for over a dozen different schools is incredibly intimidating and brings chills down my spine. A month and half until the first application is due? Procrastination. I'm good at that.