Mother F---ing A
My friends have complained that my blog isn't juicy enough, that when I write something interesting they'll read it. So it's comforting to know I lost all of my readership and don't have to worry about writing all too often. Juicy I don't have.
The MFA Degree. The Masters of Fine Arts. Usless McUsless. Perhaps.
During my first month of interning at Creative Nonfiction, the business manager was asking about me, my plans, etc. I told her I was planning on applying to MFA programs in creative nonfiction.
"Lee (the head editor and her ex-husband. the ex-husband part is irrelevant but I find it interesting.) isn't encouraging you to get an MFA, is he?" she asked. "Because it's not a good idea. Oh, sorry. I don't mean to crush your dreams or anything. "
"Oh no," I responded. "I'm not set on anything. I'm still in the debating stages. I appreciate feedback."
"It's just that you should go live your life instead of returning to the classroom. So you have something to write about."
Ah, and such is one of the many points for NOT getting an MFA in writing. It used to mean you could teach at a university level. Not so much anymore. Universities are more intersted in hiring published writers, not simply graduated school educated peeps. Which is fine. But it makes the MFA that much more useless. A recent artilce in Harper's Magazine pretty much bashed the idea of MFAs. But the author, an MFAer who now teaches, sounded way too bitter for me to trust her.
There's also the argument that "learning to write" in an institution makes you a copy cat writer at best. Professors teach you how to write their way. Schools mold you their methods.
The real selling point for MFAs is it gives you time to write. Forces you to write. At the same time, for a lot less money you can get a job with deadlines that will do the same thing.
Two great writers I know, one is a staff writer at The Washington Post and another is an editor at Popular Science, are Pitt MFA drop outs. They did the course work, but got jobs before completing their 200 page manuscript. Certainly they've written more than 200 pages of quality work, but Pitt needs that damn manuscripts. Two people who work at the journal are drop outs too. So should I do all the work to apply just to end up a drop out?
This post is boring. Sorry Zack. All my mind seems to dwell on these days is school.
In life news, I locked my keys in my car at a gas station and had to call AAA to help me out. They did. Good people, AAA. This stuff happens to me all the time, so I thought nothing of it.
A poker game took place in my house today, as it does pretty much every week. Katelyn came to my room and said, "We have a bet going to see if I can make you come down and play with us." Who ever put money on me joining the pleasant group of people downstairs lost.
I mean, come on. Don't they realize I have a blog to update with stupid MFA crap?
The MFA Degree. The Masters of Fine Arts. Usless McUsless. Perhaps.
During my first month of interning at Creative Nonfiction, the business manager was asking about me, my plans, etc. I told her I was planning on applying to MFA programs in creative nonfiction.
"Lee (the head editor and her ex-husband. the ex-husband part is irrelevant but I find it interesting.) isn't encouraging you to get an MFA, is he?" she asked. "Because it's not a good idea. Oh, sorry. I don't mean to crush your dreams or anything. "
"Oh no," I responded. "I'm not set on anything. I'm still in the debating stages. I appreciate feedback."
"It's just that you should go live your life instead of returning to the classroom. So you have something to write about."
Ah, and such is one of the many points for NOT getting an MFA in writing. It used to mean you could teach at a university level. Not so much anymore. Universities are more intersted in hiring published writers, not simply graduated school educated peeps. Which is fine. But it makes the MFA that much more useless. A recent artilce in Harper's Magazine pretty much bashed the idea of MFAs. But the author, an MFAer who now teaches, sounded way too bitter for me to trust her.
There's also the argument that "learning to write" in an institution makes you a copy cat writer at best. Professors teach you how to write their way. Schools mold you their methods.
The real selling point for MFAs is it gives you time to write. Forces you to write. At the same time, for a lot less money you can get a job with deadlines that will do the same thing.
Two great writers I know, one is a staff writer at The Washington Post and another is an editor at Popular Science, are Pitt MFA drop outs. They did the course work, but got jobs before completing their 200 page manuscript. Certainly they've written more than 200 pages of quality work, but Pitt needs that damn manuscripts. Two people who work at the journal are drop outs too. So should I do all the work to apply just to end up a drop out?
This post is boring. Sorry Zack. All my mind seems to dwell on these days is school.
In life news, I locked my keys in my car at a gas station and had to call AAA to help me out. They did. Good people, AAA. This stuff happens to me all the time, so I thought nothing of it.
A poker game took place in my house today, as it does pretty much every week. Katelyn came to my room and said, "We have a bet going to see if I can make you come down and play with us." Who ever put money on me joining the pleasant group of people downstairs lost.
I mean, come on. Don't they realize I have a blog to update with stupid MFA crap?
posted by Maria | 9:07 PM
2 Comments:
I'm not one really to post comments on blogs, but yours offers (at a 2 out of 3 rate up through now) some wonderful opportunities. I read blogs of people, often juicy or not, most likely because the people writing them are spending their time writing them instead of talking to me. Thus, the necessity to read the blog.
Also, you should play poker. I won $15 two nights ago in a 2-1/2 hour game. That doesn't, however, make up for the $110 I lost in a tournament about a month ago with Dad's buddies. Suffice it to say I won't play high stakes anymore.
Yo, you!
Boy, I wish I felt more confident about MY writing ability because I have all sorts of material to blog on about recently.
Not that I'm saying this to rub it in your face, my exciting life... I'm really not.
It occurs to me that when I'm commenting on a blog that'll be the closest I'm probably going to get to being in a chat room, the commonality being, we're all bloggers.
But, a "chat room" is too internetty a concept for a computer doofus like myself, unless "chat room" is the internet version of support group; then, THAT'S what I mean, ultimately.
(Is it any wonder that my wife, the English teacher with a PhD gets riled listening to me as I gleefully, nincompoopedly mangle the language while I talk).
But, the REAL reason I'm responding to your blog today is, a question. When you play poker... do you know all the... um... crap, I'm gonna screw up this terminology... the ranks of the suits or hands or whatever... you know, 2 pair is better than 1 pair, etc. on up to 5 of a kind?
When I play poker, I have to post that shit up on the wall(s) so I can surreptitiously scan them as I assess my hand, thereby not blowing my poker face if I have anything good (or having to give away what I have by asking my fellow competitors, "Say, fellas, theoretically speaking, mind you, heh heh, what's a flush and what's a straight, and uh, which would I rather have..?")
Also, some advice: if you don't think your blog is quite juicy enough, perhaps you could fib a little by saying such and such happened while wearing only the skimpiest of clothing OR say that a certain conversation (you know, about MFAs) actually took place post-coitally...
Mmm... post-coital discussions...
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