In conversations at Bread Loaf in Sicily, I’ve heard a recurring lament from some of the people here with MFAs. As any lament should be, it’s a mournful dirge – these writers feel the need to undo what they learned in their MFA programs, meaning the emphasis on craft and technique, for them, removed the spontaneity, fluidity and feeling from their writing. By no means is this true of all the MFA-writers I’ve met, here and at other conferences, but it is a cautionary tale. I’ve heard this most from writers who earned their MFAs early, in their twenties. Again, not a scientific fact, simply an observation.
At some point, I do believe any hard-working, dedicated writer can reach the point of workshop overload. I may be headed there myself, but I don’t think so, yet. There are two more conferences I want to attend — Bread Loaf in Vermont and Sewanee.
I envy my MFA-holding writer friends — not the letters after their names, but that intense experience of writing with other dedicated writers, of studying with incredible faculty. And, if I received a surprising inheritance, I would probably do it, despite the cautionary tales above, because I think I am mature enough to learn and receive, while able to sift and discard what is not useful for ME in my writing.
I will try to post soon about the readings last night. I thought reading at the outdoor venue at Reed College was amazing, at Tin House — and it was — but imagine reading your work on the stone steps of an old Italian church, to peers sitting in a courtyard, and you have a view of a castle, the Mediterranean and mountains. Writer heaven, again.
May you have a heavenly writing day! Happy #writing.
8 Comments
I always look forward to your posts. I’m glad you find deep inspiration in the conferences you are attending – I find inspiration in you and your contribution to the world via your writing.
I could give you a ginormous hug, Barbara!
Hi Pam,
I’m sad to hear that so many people you’ve come across with MFAs feel that they’ve lost their fluidity and spark. When I did mine, I relished the experience for the way it pushed me deeper into the work. I loved the intensity of the discussions. I especially loved that there was a time in my life so focused on writing while everything else came in second. Sure, there’s emphasis on craft and technique because writers need a solid foundation. We’re supposed to move on from there, bring the creativity and the skill together into a heady mix. I hope the writers who grouse now about their experiences find a path to the other side.
Your writer’s conference experiences do indeed sound like heaven.
Hi Kathleen,
I have noticed, and its by no means scientific, that most of the people I’ve met who are most disenchanted with their MFA experience, followed the fast track — BA straight into MFA. I don’t know what path you followed, but for those folks, it may not have been the best decision. I suspect that they hadn’t yet found the maturity to be able to weigh criticism — to understand that you must learn to accept what works for the writing, and discard what doesn’t. I could be way off, but that’s my suspicion. Whenever young people ask me about MFAs now, I encourage them to live a little first, if at all possible.
Believe me, I also meet plenty of MFAers who are happy and moving along — and a few non-MFAers like myself, who try not to feel too insecure with our lack of letters after our names.
I love your comment, “I hope the writers who grouse now about their experiences find a path to the other side.” Yes!! Me too.
Hi, Pam!
I’d be curious why they felt that the MFA ruined their spontaneity, fluidity and feeling from their writing, most especially the last two. Is it something that is “workshopped” out of the pieces?
Hi, Sabra,
Yes, at this conference in particular, several writers spoke about over-workshopping — writing to a formula and not a feeling. As I said in my reply to Kathleen, I’ve noted the disgruntlement mostly from writers who followed the fast track.
Pam.
I was recently reading Francine Prose’s “Reading Like a Writer” and she has a whole chapter called “Learning from Chekhov” in which his writing refutes every single one of her creative writing mantras/platitudes/rules. “I suggested to a student that what made her story so confusing was the multiple shifts in point of view….That afternoon I read Chekhov’s ‘Gusev”‘ “Around the same time, I told my class that we should, ideally, have some notion of whom or what a story is about- in other words, as they so often say in workshops, whose story is it?” Then she reads Chekhov’s “In the Ravine.”
And on and on. ;-0
I need to reread that one, Sabra. It’s been a while and I loved that book! Will be in touch soon re your novel blog.