I've been away from the Blogger dashboard for too long. But that's me. I am a serial procrastinator and a person who, when the projects are for sheerly my own personal satisfaction, etc. starts a million things and never finishes them. When it comes to doing things for others and clients and the like, I am on it in a heartbeat; checking, rechecking, timelining, updating, revising.
Me, though, I'm the shoemaker's child.
Today the Bennington waitlist closes, and although the Assistant Director of the Writing Seminars sent me a very encouraging and lovely email on Friday, I'm now on to determining things I can do to either enhance my application packet for the June 2010 term, additional schools to which I will apply, or none of the above. My heart feels like I want this MFA and I need this MFA to push myself as a writer. To grow as a writer. To learn as a writer. To take on roles that keep me closer to writing and reading than I am right now. Yes, i write every single day of my life, and yes, it's writing that requires a talent. But no, it isn't the writing that I see myself doing from that lovely cottage in Ireland when I'm in my 50's (which are now only 15 years away). Perhaps it's the writing that will pay for that cottage and afford me the breaks away from earning money (or much) from publishing.
But I ask myself - what will help me over that last little hill and into the sacred temple of Bennington or Warren Wilson or any of the other well-regarded schools that offer low-residency MFA programs and make me feel that they respect me as a writer and a human with all of the responsibilities along with it?
And will the idea of getting into a program and the opportunities it can offer be enough for me to put it first? Up there with the paying clients and pro bono cases and helping outs for the organizations to which my kids belong?
Feeling just a little lost today - but suitable I would say for the weather outside.
Showing posts with label grad school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grad school. Show all posts
Monday, December 7, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
What if?
After rolling around in bed for the past four days with what I believe was a wee touch o' the Swine Flu, or The Hiney as it is being called around my house, I made the decision to start this blog. Why? Oh, there are so many reasons why. Because I need an outlet for thoughts that I obsess over for a day; thoughts too complex for Facebook or Twitter yet too fleeting to devote to a full essay. Because I've been reading more blogs by Twitter friends of late and know I should get in on this conversation. Because I need to write. A lot.
Perhaps the biggest reason for starting this blog however lies in the fact that each and every day since roughly October 12 I've been overwhelmed with the knowledge that out in this world today are a group of people who decided that my writing was only good enough to merit me a spot on the waiting list for a wonderful low residency MFA program. I have no ill will towards these people whatsoever. They deemed me better than those people whose applications they threw into the circular file, however, I keep asking myself the eternal "What If?"
For me, in many ways, that question dominates my life. What if I cut my hair - would he love me more? What if I lost 10 pounds - would I feel better about myself? What if I enrolled my son in this program - would he learn to lighten up on himself? And on and on and on. So, since the email that told me that I'm good, but not good enough, came, "What if..." is bouncing in my head like a basketball.
Certainly I'm wise enough to know that the complexities that go into admitting a group of people into an MFA program go beyond me and my concerns. I know that issues relating to everything from age, gender, nationality, and concentration choice add to the equation that when worked with slide rule and pencil sharpened to the nub equaled me sitting at home wondering where I went wrong with my application packet. But still...what if I had more writing out there in the here and now? Sure, the publication area of my CV is weak (unless you count the thousands of newspaper articles I wrote as a reporter and used to hone my method of dissecting Creative Nonfiction pieces with objective accuracy and an eye for the story), maybe a blog will help. Maybe not. Maybe this blog will actually hurt my chances of getting in upon reapplication to the program. But what if it doesn't?
What ifs aside, the clear message that I got from this stomach-churning email that laughed in the faces of all of those cheerful and helpful loved ones who told me I was sure to be accepted was that I need to continue to grow as a writer. Indeed, that was my goal in applying to the program in the first place. To grow as a writer. Because really, if we don't grow as writers we're reduced to rehashers. And while I don't mind rehashing a good story in a socal setting, guaging audience reaction to the words and images created and ever-so-slightly tweaking them for the next group for maximum impact, I would stop writing tomorrow if I were doomed to write the same things the same way for eternity.
So here goes...what if this turns out to be something?
Perhaps the biggest reason for starting this blog however lies in the fact that each and every day since roughly October 12 I've been overwhelmed with the knowledge that out in this world today are a group of people who decided that my writing was only good enough to merit me a spot on the waiting list for a wonderful low residency MFA program. I have no ill will towards these people whatsoever. They deemed me better than those people whose applications they threw into the circular file, however, I keep asking myself the eternal "What If?"
For me, in many ways, that question dominates my life. What if I cut my hair - would he love me more? What if I lost 10 pounds - would I feel better about myself? What if I enrolled my son in this program - would he learn to lighten up on himself? And on and on and on. So, since the email that told me that I'm good, but not good enough, came, "What if..." is bouncing in my head like a basketball.
Certainly I'm wise enough to know that the complexities that go into admitting a group of people into an MFA program go beyond me and my concerns. I know that issues relating to everything from age, gender, nationality, and concentration choice add to the equation that when worked with slide rule and pencil sharpened to the nub equaled me sitting at home wondering where I went wrong with my application packet. But still...what if I had more writing out there in the here and now? Sure, the publication area of my CV is weak (unless you count the thousands of newspaper articles I wrote as a reporter and used to hone my method of dissecting Creative Nonfiction pieces with objective accuracy and an eye for the story), maybe a blog will help. Maybe not. Maybe this blog will actually hurt my chances of getting in upon reapplication to the program. But what if it doesn't?
What ifs aside, the clear message that I got from this stomach-churning email that laughed in the faces of all of those cheerful and helpful loved ones who told me I was sure to be accepted was that I need to continue to grow as a writer. Indeed, that was my goal in applying to the program in the first place. To grow as a writer. Because really, if we don't grow as writers we're reduced to rehashers. And while I don't mind rehashing a good story in a socal setting, guaging audience reaction to the words and images created and ever-so-slightly tweaking them for the next group for maximum impact, I would stop writing tomorrow if I were doomed to write the same things the same way for eternity.
So here goes...what if this turns out to be something?
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