No clear career path, no assurances, no internships providing a livable wage, debt you will likely pay with a “real” job unrelated to art* or writing, the near-daily kick-in-the-gut sensation when you did not write, nor read, at all, the fundamental necessity for other people to like your work if you want to make enough money for a sandwich… is it worth it?
When I was a freshman at Berkeley, I got into a poetry workshop led by a poet who’d graduated from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop. I asked her if she’d recommend the MFA route. She said no. And I mean, it was a bitter no. It was a half-dead no. It was a “I wasted my time” no. I was surprised. I expected that she would recommend it, especially since she came from Iowa, or at least recommend looking into it, or at least compliment me on my budding talents. She did none of these things.
When I was a sophomore at Berkeley, I got into an upper div poetry workshop led by John Shoptaw. I hung out in his office and asked him questions about poetry. I noticed he had a giant dictionary propped open on his desk at all times. He said he reads a little every day. He told me to read the classics. Read. Read. Read poetry. Get the fundamentals down. Get the references. I knew he hadn’t gotten an MFA. I asked him anyway. I can’t quite remember his answer, but it wasn’t a, “Yes, it’s the future, Ellie. You MUST have an MFA.”
When I was a senior at Berkeley, I followed Lyn Hejinian around. I took her incredible class Theory of the Poet which she CO-TAUGHT with Emily Thornberry and it was incredible. I asked Lyn if I should get an MFA. I want to be a writer, I told her. Not sure about strictly poet, but a writer.
She said that I need to try really hard
to do anything other
than be a writer.
If I could find anything other than being a writer and if I could be happy doing it, I should do that. Whatever it was, it would probably be more financially stable than the alternative. If I couldn’t, she said, well, that was it. Then I had to be a writer.
I sold ads at Yelp. I taught English in Thailand. I sold saas software in SOMA (the most depressing alliteration of all). I do communications now, which is cool because I get to tell people, “Ha, see? You CAN do something with an English degree!”
But, as it goes, everything inside me points to my dream of one day sitting in my very own writing hut, writing something good, something well-crafted, but ultimately something from my heart. Not because someone wants me to do it. Just because I want to do it. If the writing hut must be part of a side-job, sure. Such is life, little babies. One thing I’ve learned from being part of freelancing groups on Facebook is that I don’t want to make my income from freelancing. Elizabeth Gilbert (in Big Magic) says, “But to yell at your creativity, saying, ‘You must earn money for me!’ is sort of like yelling at a cat; it has no idea what you’re talking about, and all you’re doing is scaring it away …” It’s a hard pill to swallow in a world that measures financial success and fame as success. But, like, do whatever you want. I know folks who have been freelancing for years and they’re great at it and they earn a living.
Anyway, a couple of years after I graduated, I reached back out to John and Lyn. I asked for letters of recommendation. I was applying to an MFA program. They were both kind and encouraging. Suddenly I felt like not listening to all that advice about not getting an MFA, trying not to be a writer, was actually what someone who really wants to be a writer would do. Like suffering through that 400-person freshman chem class intended to weed out people like me who would do better at something else. (What a GPA-killer trying to become a doctor was!)
Lyn gave me good advice on how to think about MFA programs. I took none of this advice. I am in debt from my MFA program. For some reason I thought that wasn’t that big of a deal, until I realized that in June, I will start owing that money. Womp! And when I went to AWP this year, for significantly less money, I realized a lot of writer advice is the same thing over and over: learn the craft, revise your work, don’t write and edit at the same time, don’t respond to criticism immediately. The feedback to your work can be heard in a writing workshop (though I’ve yet to find a post-MFA one :( ) The end. The not-end: I only went to AWP because I got the student rate and I only knew about certain writers because of Goucher.
So, it’s up to you. You don’t need an MFA to be a writer. I know writers who got their MFA and promptly did nothing with it. But if you really want to be a writer, to get better at it, to keep honing your craft, to meet other writers, you’ll need to find a way to do that. How is up to you. I chose this way and I do not regret it.
And seriously, please keep playing and having fun and making a mess of things in your writing. This morning I wrote 671 words about last night’s dream, where I met these birds who had people faces and they were spectacular but they didn’t seem to be attached to my opinion of their flight. It was just what they were made to do.
Hmm.
*I got my MFA in nonfiction writing, so I can’t speak as much to art and artists
