[Written at a tiny hotel room desk while my child screams in the background]
My worst-kept secret is I applied and was accepted to an MA/MFA program at Wilkes University. I had no intention of applying to any such program until my husband’s new position invited the discussion. My Good Art Friend, upon learning of my impending shift in geography, casually noted that Wilkes has a low-residence program (that is nationally ranked). I had a writing sample and $35, so why not?
It’s terrifying putting yourself out there. It’s terrifying sharing the first twenty pages of your manuscript. It’s terrifying waiting to learn if you’re a fit for their program or a thanks for your interest; however…
Days after my application submission came an email that welcomed me to the cohort. Introductions to my classmates and key faculty followed. An eight-day program residency followed. And friends, it was a wild week that was incredibly long but more rewarding than any experience I have had. And my cohort! Friends, you have not seen such beautiful, creative humans gel at the level we gelled, which is a testament to whatever calculus the program employs for selecting its students.
So anyway, I’m back in academia. And since I’m still timid about sharing my creative writing, I’ll share my reflection.
Self-Reflection | Post-Residency
During the playwright panel, Bonnie Culver said it is easy to waste time when you have all the time in the world. I live by this concept because I have no time to waste—at least if I wish to meet my goals. I am balancing the demands of this MA program with a full-time job, a position with the Air Force Reserve, an editing business, and a family—which includes a strong-willed three-year-old. Perhaps if I were more sensible, I would question if I had made the right decision; however, I had put off this venture for years because I pursued what I thought was responsible. The June residency showed me I had made the right choice by reinforcing my current writing practices while emphasizing elements I was missing: particularly the need for a community to help me grow.
I gravitated toward the advice provided by Nisha Sharma and Ken Liu as they balance their writing with corporate roles and family demands, among other things. I connected with their stories of writing on subways and in pockets of time others seem to ignore—my own being coffee lines and five-minute lulls before meetings that should have been emails. Similarly, Christine Gelineau encouraged us to arrange our lives to permit our craft. “Find the process that works for you,” she said, using the definite article to connote specificity. This advice was refreshing as my writing is consistent yet chaotic, and it normalized my cohort’s struggle in navigating obstacles, like balancing our practice with day jobs if we manage our time and values.
Ken Liu also mentioned he lowers his expectations, which is a strategy suggested by James Clear in Atomic Habits: the volume or quality matters less than the frequency when forming a habit that sticks. Likewise, other speakers stressed consistency and tenacity more than talent to succeed. For instance, Phil Brady said, “95% of writing is failure,” Christine Renee Miller suggested we “enjoy the process,” and countless other faculty emphasized craft. The common elements are endurance and grit.
Constant like references to craft and tenacity was the importance of creating community. Mike Lennon suggested we create a tribe. Jenny Mayer urged us to build networks to leverage as springboards in the same way Jessica Goudeau saw community as access behind closed doors. Alexander Chee took an alternate route, stating, “Community acknowledges you as having value in the proposition.” I wasn’t sure what he meant at first. Proposition has multiple meanings, from something offered, to a problem, to a kind of thing “to be dealt with.”* I imagine he meant the latter. Writing can be a solitary endeavor, and many of us write in that vacuum, myself included. But if I exist separate from other writers, I am not engaged in the narrative. Some writers prefer this—and I do not judge them for their choice—but Bonnie Culver described community as a “group that teaches you something.” I applied for this program because I wanted to develop my craft among like-minded persons who understand that this thing to be dealt with compels us in ways we often cannot explain. And that is what I found at my residency: I found others tired of being alone.
I believe opportunities arrive when we need them or possess the maturity to handle them. I did not seriously write until 2018, nor did I consider an MFA until recently—and while I often wish I had pursued this path sooner, I am here and writing. That says a lot.
* * *
* Merriam-Webster. (n.d.) Proposition. In Merriam-Webster.com dictionary. Retrieved June 24, 2023, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/proposition
Sarah E. H. Lyons 