I go to the library today – (yes, on a Thursday, like any normal nerd would) – to get the insight on the most recent news about fashion, computer stuff, poetry and literature. These days I’ve added Forbes to the mix, just for the thrill of it. Is this what it means to grow up? Have I arrived, Oprah? God knows. There I was just scrolling through a couple of articles in Wired about the power of DNA, reading through poetry in Harpers…when I suddenly came across the MFA program pages in Poets and Writers magazine. You should totally check out the Poets and Writers (pw.org) website by the way, their resources are freaking incredible.
Anyway, I suddenly get the urge to look for local MFA programs in the Los Angeles region, and there are a couple low residencies that capture my eye. Hmm…? I am still paying my undergraduate loans back, though. What to do?
Now, I’ve been pretty proactive in my craft this year in a couple of ways: networking (attending writing events, meeting writers, going to writing circles and helping folks with their ideas) and supporting (as in helping others tell their stories with the few tidbits I picked up in Middle English class back in College. Thanks UC Berkeley for the dramatic literature and your draconian training!).
What I have been lacking is action. Not for others, I’ve actually turned out to be a pretty supportive collaborator and friend. I mean, action for MYSELF. Pushing me to the next step. So I look at this MFA page, and wonder. Is this what I need? Am I one of those people who need deadlines and structure to complete a piece of my own writing? Should I … go back to school?
I get chills from excitement, and then bite my lip with anxiety. What would that mean, to go back to school? Have I lived enough? Is MFA in Creative Writing the way to go? Who the frack knows?!
I do know this much though, the idea of getting paid to read and teach while I write my own story sounds like a good deal to me. As long as the program offers that kind of service. God knows where I’ll be next year, and for now my fingers will do the talking for me. Has 2018 become the year of revelations for me? For everyone (we got the house, folks)?! Who knows?
Well, that is all for now. Good night folks.