Not for this site — well, maybe (send me an email or something) — but rather for Writer’s Digest’s blog MFA Confidential. They’re holding a contest and it seemed interesting enough to bring me out of hibernation to link to it. Read more about the contest at Writer’s Digest.

If you make it, let me know. And actually if you’d like to blog for After the MFA, let’s talk…

I’ve had conversations with people enough times to know a bit better how to respond to the question as well. So here’s my attempt.

There is only one thing I would have done differently: picked a different school.

Trust me, I am not denigrating the fine institution, instructors or students that I spent two years of Tuesday and Thursday nights with. I encountered some great people there, including a few instructors and fellow students who are making great contributions to writing and the teaching of writing.

But there is one thing I regret most of all, and that’s not focusing on teaching.

I am miserable in the corporate world. Always have been. Always will be. It puts food on the table but with every paycheck comes the price of a few ounces of my soul. I’ve been a professional writer and editor for about 15 years (including the horrendous years of being an assistant editor wherein I did nearly no editing and a crap-ton of assisting) — throughout these years I’ve never wanted to do something more than ditch the profit-driven corporate world and teach writing full-time.

So why did I go to a program that didn’t have an integrated teaching component to it? Convenience.

I was working full-time, raising two kids, my program was close by  (I could walk to it from my apartment), and held classes in the evenings. I also liked the fact that the program could be completed in two years.

If I had to do things differently, I think I would go back and find ways to make my MFA experience a little less convenient and a little more conducive to my long-term goals. It’s not that the experience was easy. Far from it. The two years I was in grad school were a couple of the most difficult I’ve had in my life — with the extreme highs and extreme lows of birth and death enveloping constant day-to-day struggles to just get shit done. In fact, if things had been any less convenient, I probably would have given up on the whole affair. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that I ultimately didn’t accomplish something I had hoped to gain from the experience. If I had a time machine I’d go back and fix that one thing.

Before you embark on your MFA journey, understand clearly what your goals are and what you’ll have to give up in order to get them. As in all things creative, convenience and shortcuts don’t often bear out the results we really want.

Because of a plague of spam I had forced all comments to go through approval before going on the site. I didn’t realize people had actually been saying stuff I would have loved to have seen. Damn spam.

Thanks again, for the comments on my last taking stock post. Big thank you for the thoughts and encouragement.

Things are still as busy as ever, but I hope to start writing a bit more on here in the future.

But something about tonight… sitting in my backyard, puffing on a fine cigar, watching the planes descend towards JFK over my head, listening to trucks grinding their gears down Bedford Avenue. It’s all making me think about my life after the MFA now that it’s nearing the four-year mark. I officially departed the halls of academia in August 2005, when I handed in my creative project and bid farewell to workshops, creative responses, constructive feedback and the inevitable after-class beer sessions.

Since that landmark date, I’ve done the following:

• Left my home stat of California and moved from San Francisco to New York City with my wife and two small kids
• Left my job of 8 years, started a new one, and a few months later started a newer one
• Written a draft of a television pilot script
• Revised three of the nine stories I wrote for my final masters project
• Started three drafts of three different novels
• Written a total of one new story (!)
• Submitted stories to about a dozen publications
• Started this humble website and posted to it continuously for roughly two years
• Contributed a submission to “Not Quite What I Was Planning,” the six-word memoir project
• Joined a writing group, still trying to get us to meet on a regular basis
• Attempted to do the old get-up-early-in-the-morning-to-write routine a total of two different times… gave it up twice
• Pondered the idea of entering a Phd program, only to come to realize it is a big gamble of time, effort, and expense with small chance of realized gains

What I haven’t done is a shorter, but probably more significant list (to me). I have not:

• Published in a personally significant journal or publication
• Started teaching
• Felt satisfied in any meaningful way with my post MFA writing life

Don’t get me wrong, this is not a self-pitying post meant to stir up the comments in support of my wayward ways. I’m taking stock. I needed to see myself state for the record how I view my post-MFA life. And the answer is … not so wonderfully. 

I entered into my MFA program with two major goals in mind: to instill a greater sense of discipline in me for the craft and process of writing and to gain the qualifications to teach writing. Four years down the road I can see that I achieved neither of those goals.

I did meet some great people, write some half-way decent stories, and read a lot of stimulating literature I might not have otherwise exposed myself to. Those two years I spent were not a complete waste. Not even close. In fact, I think my life would have been significantly worse had I not earned my MFA. But, in 20/20 hindsight, I’m pretty confident I would have done a few things differently.  What those changes would have been, I’ll have to address another time. My cigar just went out, it’s late, and I think it’s time to go to bed.

If you’re listening/reading, I welcome your comments.

-g

What I learned was that to write a book you have to first become the person you need to be to write that book. I had to, like, literally change. I had to become a new person. I had to grow the f— up.

– Junot Diaz

The article was apparently a an advance volley from a book that just came out of his new book called “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.”

I particularly like Boldtype’s review of the book, to wit:

Murakami’s tough-love take on writing seems bracing in the context of an unending stream of “craft”-oriented tomes. Whereas a classic writer’s book like Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird deals in trade-based tips — “The very first thing I tell my new students on the first day of a workshop is that good writing is about telling the truth” — Murakami jettisons such undeniable (but not particularly helpful) truisms in favor of stressing the importance of elbow grease. Or, writing as sport.

Not particularly helpful, indeed. I think Murakami’s wisdom may do more for me in the long run. Who knows, maybe he’ll be able to tip my scale and get me out there on the road to running, and writing, a hell of a lot more.

Calling all designers, developers, information architects, project managers, writers, editors, marketers, and everyone else who makes websites. It is time once again to pool our information so as to begin sketching a true picture of the way our profession is practiced worldwide.

I’ve been working on the web since 1997, and I’m still surprised at how little organized the array of people in the industry actually are. Sure, there are conferences galore, but I mean really organize. I used to joke with a few colleagues at Yahoo! back in the day about starting a union for web editors. It was tongue-in-cheek back then, but it today it could be a great way to get rid of these freelance jobs that pay $10 for a blog post that I see on craigslist all too frequently.

If you work on the web, think about taking A List Apart’s survey.

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars

“The proper manner of calligraphy is nothing other than not being careless, but in this way one’s writing will simply be sluggish and stiff. One should go beyond this and depart from the norm. This principle applies to all things.” — “Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai,” pg. 42

View all my reviews.

Aimed at amateur videomakers, but very pertinent to all storytelling.

“At some point, somebody’s gotta say ‘here’s why the hell you’re listening to this story.’”

[Inspired by a post at 43 folders]