Read the rest - Tom McAllister

The MFA discussion is one of the common writer arguments (another: genre fiction vs. literary fiction) that invites hysterical and irrational responses online. There is so much misinformation, so many weird conspiracy theories about how admissions work, so many jaded writer-types who lashing out at what they view as the establishment. I understand, to an extent, why it?s so hard for people to be rational about the topic; it adds another layer of maddening subjectivity to the writing life, and, increasingly, it seems to create another barrier between a writer and a potential audience. As MFA programs?and now PhD creative writing programs? proliferate there is a growing class of ?credentialed? writers who, the fear goes, are given the keys to the writing world regardless of merit.

There are real questions to be asked of MFA programs? are some of them just moneymakers exploiting the dreams of people with middling talents? Do they ?standardize? writing and churn out a bunch of cookie-cutter ?safe? stories that lack some fundamental soul? Are they acting as shelters for writers who can?t or won?t get by in the real world? Do they cost to much? Do they encourage nepotism by prioritizing professional connections over craft? Can you even teach creative writing anyway? (my answer: yes, of course you can. But I acknowledge it?s a debate for some)

The list goes on. You can find all the critiques pretty easily if you haven?t heard them before. For some internet people, even the term ?MFA fiction? is a serious epithet reserved for the most tedious of books. And just about every debate I?ve seen online is circuitous and annoying and pointless, even if it follows a well-reasoned article.

It?s one thing to find that stuff on blogs or message boards, though. It?s another entirely when a publication like The Chronicle of Higher Education? self-described as ?the No. 1 source of news, information, and jobs for college and university faculty members and administrators?? runs an article like this, which is about as worthless an attack on MFAs as you?ll find anywhere.

I thought about just posting my thoughts, but I think this one deserves the standard Fire Joe Morgan treatment, a line-by-line breakdown of this article by Henry Adams (a pseudonym)

Click through for the full response:

M.F.A. Fever

?I?m going to grad school,? announced ?Fenimore? as he strode into my office. I knew little about this student except that his adviser had described him as home schooled and emotionally needy.

That?s a weirdly judgmental tone from the start, but, okay, fine, I?m sometimes weirdly judgmental and I guess I can live with it. That is, unless I were a student counting on this guy for respectful advice rather than sneering condescension.

?Congratulations,? I said. ?Where have you been accepted??

?Oh, I haven?t yet,? said Fenimore. ?My adviser said I should talk to you about applying.?

In the English department at Locally Known College, I have a reputation for being skeptical about sending students to graduate training in the humanities. I?m also known for being able to look a student in the eye and politely say ?No? to a request. Because of both factors, my colleagues sometimes send their less-promising advisees to me for consultations about graduate school.

Translation: I am widely known for being an unrepentant dick.

I asked Fenimore, ?What do you want to specialize in??

He replied, ?I?m getting an M.F.A. in novel writing.?

Some people develop an irrational desire to buy a vehicle they can?t afford. They have Car Fever. Other people feel driven to connect with stunningly inappropriate partners. They?ve contracted Relationship Fever. Still others become convinced that their lives will be worthwhile if, and only if, they pursue graduate work in creative writing. Those poor souls suffer from M.F.A. Fever.

This seems like as good a place as any for me to clarify that my negative reaction to the article has nothing to do with my own case of MFA fever, or the fact that I have a degree from a well-regarded program. Sometimes that?s the response you get if you try to engage someone who is attacking the MFA; they say ?of course you?re going to defend it,? as if your graduate degree has rendered you incapable of making sound judgments and expressing critical thoughts. I liked my graduate program, but that?s not why I?m responding to H. Adams; I?m responding because I?m much more invested in having an honest conversation than this guy is. He?s just phoning in a column and taking shots at what he perceives to be an easy target.

I admire undergraduates who sincerely want to write, but students plagued with M.F.A. Fever usually prove to be less realistic than those English majors who expect to blaze through a Ph.D. program in literature and step into a tenure-track job. I have encountered several different versions of M.F.A. Fever.

I, of course, have also met a number of students who wanted to go to grad school for creative writing. Some were better equipped than others for it, and some would have been better off waiting to apply. Some know very little about it, besides that it would be cool to keep writing, and they vaguely talk about how they?d like to also be a writer some day. ?Like you,? they say, with such sincerity that I feel badly saying, ?no, you do not want to be like me. At all.?

Anyway, let?s concede that Adams is correct: sometimes naive undergrads have a screwed up vision of what being a writer means and what an MFA program will be like.

Some sufferers refuse to read anything already published in their creative field because they fear that another author will influence their own work too much.

I have been a student (both undergrad and grad) in dozens of writing workshops. I have taught (online and in real life) hundreds of creative writing students, and have conversed with hundreds more writers, both aspiring and accomplished. I have literally never heard anyone say something like this.

But I?m supposed to believe Adams has met so many people?not just one person, but enough that he could generalize and classify them into a subset of a group of troubled students? that he needs to lead with this example. Let?s be ultra-generous here and say Adams isn?t intentionally lying in his example, and he believes he has met At best, I?d argue he is grossly misrepresenting something that one student once said to him.

To such students I say, ?If you don?t read what?s already out there, how can you be sure you aren?t simply reproducing something that?s been done 1,000 times already?? At that point, they often look at me as if they had never considered that possibility.

To such students, I say, ?it is fascinating speaking to someone who does not exist.?

Other young writers believe they?re on the verge of greatness and feel incensed if I suggest otherwise.

These people. I have met these people. Probably I was one of these people.

They envision an M.F.A. program as the place where they will be catapulted into fame and fortune. They expect me, as an undergraduate instructor, to fulfill one function: prepare them for graduate studies by pumping out nothing but praise, praise, praise. To those students I say, gently, ?How will you achieve greatness if no one gives you useful feedback??

Here?s the thing, though: these people exist, but this example seems to presuppose that the MFA is the primary cause, rather than the fact that the people he?s talking to are 21 year old college students who are sometimes incredibly arrogant and naive and confident, and have sometimes spent most of their lives being coddled. How many undergrads are convinced they will be doctors, even though they cannot handle a basic math course? How many undergrads are sure they will be rich and achieve all their dreams even as they make no effort at all to achieve any of them? ?MFA Fever? has nothing to do with it, even though he implies that somehow these students are unique among their peers; it?s a cultural issue. This is what college students do. This is how they think, and how we teach them to think.

Also, there?s an implication here that this problem is incurable. Okay, so they?re delusional. Someday they probably won?t be. They?ll mature, and they?ll later laugh at their past selves.

Some victims of M.F.A. Fever have highly optimistic expectations about how much publishing pays. I once had a new advisee, ?Ernest,? tell me in his first semester of college that he planned to earn an M.F.A. ?I want to write for a living,? he said.

?How do you plan to support yourself?? I asked. ?Almost no one makes a living on writing alone.?

?Really?? Ernest said. ?You mean I?ll have to work in a grocery store or something??

I said, ?A grocery store is one possibility.?

?Aw, man, my parents are gonna be so disappointed,? be said. ?I told them I?d get a job writing stories when I finish college.? Ernest left my office that day with a more realistic attitude about M.F.A. programs and writing careers.

If Adams can prove this conversation actually happened, I will eat my MFA diploma and post the video on youtube.

Look, I know some students are incredibly naive. I had a student recently express shock about the fact that the US employs a ?backup President? when I said something about Joe Biden. But there are so many ludicrous elements of this imagined dialogue that I shouldn?t even need to note them.

But okay, maybe Ernest actually did say something like this; many students still think publishing a book definitely leads to a big paycheck, and I?ve had students who thought I?d struck it rich when I published my memoir. But I?m confident that either his mindset is being grossly misrepresented and exaggerated beyond anything resembling reality, OR that Ernest and his parents are idiots, and he is an outlier, not at all a representative of a whole class of students or useful as an indictment of MFA programs.

Sometimes M.F.A. Fever gives students the delusion that a graduate program will accept them automatically, even if they have no portfolio of writing to include in an application.

Honestly, if Adams is actually telling the truth in all of these examples, he probably needs to find work at a better school.

I have a question prepared for such students, a question I asked Fenimore when he announced his graduate-school plans. ?Admission to graduate writing programs is very competitive,? I said. ?What have you written that will make you stand out from hundreds of other bright applicants??

Fenimore grinned. ?I?ve published a novel.

Few things give me more delight than students publishing their work, but fewer things make me more skeptical than undergraduates boasting about having published books. Once a student announced she had written a sword-and-sorcery thriller, but when I asked to see it, she could produce only a single chapter dashed off the night before. Another student declared he?d published a novel. He?d actually written a tale about a family of chipmunks that ignore their brilliant son. The student had run off several copies and given them to his parents and sisters.

Despite those disappointments, I do know a couple of students who?ve completed promising books, so I told Fenimore, ?I?d like to see your novel.?

?I?ll bring you a copy tomorrow,? said Fenimore, and out the door he went.

Some students are liars. And some don?t quite understand the difference between publishing posting something on their own website. Again, this vague anecdotal evidence, though, has nothing to do with what?s wrong with MFA programs?in fact, the reality that these people will never get into an MFA program is a good thing, isn?t it?

I have nothing against well-designed, honest M.F.A. programs, but I often recommend that students with M.F.A. Fever spend a year or two away from formal education. They should read, read, read, and, of course, write on a rigorous daily schedule. They should attend weekend workshops to get critiques of their work, and visit writing conferences to network with editors and other writers. Of course they should also have some adventures to write about. Taking this route may get a person closer to publishing than will pursuing a M.F.A.

This is all fine advice. I went to grad school straight from college and I wasn?t prepared for it. Many students want to stay in school because they know school and they?re afraid to enter the job market with a BA in English, and they just don?t really know what else to do. Many of them would be better off taking a year (or more) to hone their writing and to mature and to read and everything else.

Another option I suggest to students is the low-residency M.F.A., which has a big advantage over a traditional program. Because low-residency students meet face to face only once or twice a year, they can?t hide away in a university cocoon. The students are out in the world interacting with ordinary people most of the year, thus giving them source material for their writing.

There?s nothing wrong with low-res programs. But I do take issue with this notion that if you?re at a traditional MFA program you?re not ?out in the world interacting with ordinary people.? Besides being a bit insulting to writers, it?s also a false dichotomy; if you are alive and you?re not cloistering yourself, then you?re interacting with ordinary people in the real world every day, whether you?re in an MFA program or you work for NASA or you make wicker furniture.

Why can a student in the Temple MFA program, for example, not go to school and interact with the world? What restriction binds him to the university at all hours of the day?

Most students with M.F.A. Fever, however, want the familiar structure of a campus and an academic calendar. They apply for admission to traditional master?s programs with my blessing so long as they will get good feedback on their work, have thorough knowledge about the world of publishing, and receive financial aid.

I do want to note, too, that there is a benefit to interacting with writers daily and always being reminded that a) writing is a real job other people are doing all the time, and b) it?s a worthwhile pursuit. If you?re a young writer, being exposed to all the other serious students could be enormously beneficial, and you won?t necessarily get that same experience at a low-res program (which, again, I don?t have any problems with, I just think Adams could acknowledge the counter argument)

I also encourage students to attend only programs that warn them upfront not to expect a full-time teaching job.

A couple of years ago I was visiting a distant city when I learned that a tiny institution, ?Charles Ponzi College,? was holding an open house to promote a new traditional M.F.A. program.

MFA Programs are exactly like Ponzi schemes, Henry Adams thinks. Although, actually that doesn?t make much sense at all, not really. Henry Adams pauses, scratches out his last sentence. He snaps his fingers, says I know! Instead of addressing that point, I?ll just do like Dave Barry and sneak a dumb little gag in there, and so he does. And now there?s the implication that MFA Programs are scams, based only on the evidence of his fictional encounters with invented students.

On the off chance that it would be a good fit for my students, I attended the event. I enjoyed mingling with the program?s potential students but felt puzzled because the glossy pamphlet I picked up at the door did not mention financial aid or what a person might do with this degree.

The program director gave an enthusiastic talk but provided no more enlightenment than the pamphlet did. During the Q&A session I asked, ?Will your students learn how to publish their material??

?Of course,? Program Director said. ?They?ll meet visiting professors and guest speakers in the field.?

I said, ?But what?s built into the program to prepare students to get an agent, network, and build a readership??

Program Director frowned. ?They?ll have the support of their fellow students and share what they discover with each other.?

?Your pamphlet doesn?t mention assistantships or scholarships,? I said. ?How will your students support themselves??

Program Director shook his head at my ignorance. ?While they?re in the program they?ll take out loans and have regular jobs like everyone else. When they?re done they can move into the world of publishing. They could teach, too.?

The PD?s answers seem fine to me. Adams is right to wonder about the logistics; any serious applicant needs to think about the finances, the long-term plans, etc. But what?s the problem with the PD talking about improving the craft? If he?s invested in writing and teaching, then his passion isn?t for bureaucracy and dental plans, but rather for the writing itself. This is what the serious applicant is interested in, because an MFA program is not a work release program or a refrigerator repair school. It is a place where people can invest in their writing and try to become better at the craft. It?s great if the degree helps you get a job, and schools should offer some more post-grad support to their MFAs, who are often adrift.

But this implication that the PD is a snakeoil salesman because he?d rather talk about improving their writing than post-grad job placement? That?s dishonest, and it?s a repetition of the pattern by which Adams gets to set up strawmen then smugly mock them for being so weak.

At this point Program Director, the other faculty members, and the potential students glared at me. Clearly I was the only one in the room not infected by M.F.A. Fever. I decided I?d learned all I needed to know about Charles Ponzi College.

I?ll be this guy unironically uses the word ?sheeple.?

When Fenimore came to my office the next day, he did indeed bring a copy of his novel. The cover looked bright, but the binding seemed a bit iffy. I said, ?How did your agent choose this publisher??

Fenimore laughed. ?I don?t have an agent.?

I asked, ?How did you get this press to publish your book??

Fenimore said, ?My mom paid for it.?

There is nothing about the Fenimore case that is representative of students at large, and nothing to be learned about MFA programs.

Now I understood why my colleague had sent this student to me.

We already knew why; because you are a dick.

Fenimore?s mother, having protected and home schooled him, thought she was doing her son a further favor by paying some outfit to place Fenimore?s words between covers. I said, ?A handful of people self-publish and self-promote like fiends, eventually making their work attractive to a regular publisher. How many copies have you sold??

Fenimore shrugged. ?My closet is full of copies.?

?A novel that you paid to publish won?t get you into an M.F.A. program,? I said as gently as I could. ?It may even hurt your chances.?

I?m not sure about the last line; if the book were really well written, it would probably not matter that he has a weirdly indulgent and overprotective mother.

Overcome by M.F.A. Fever, Fenimore felt sure that I didn?t know what I was talking about, and that his mother, who had never attended college, could get her son into an M.F.A. program. He rose to leave, and I wished him well.

The next time one of my fellow professors sends me a student with M.F.A. Fever, I think I?ll charge that colleague a consulting fee.

The problem here, is this: Fenimore, assuming he?s a real person, seems like a dolt with a misguided mother who has pampered and sheltered him. This has nothing to do with ?MFA fever? or problems with MFA programs or anything at all.

This article poses as a takedown of MFA programs, but it offers nothing substantial; it?s just a series of cheapshots based on strawmen and anecdotal evidence. Probably you?re thinking I didn?t need to spend so much time on it, and maybe you?re right, but the fact is The Chronicle is widely read and has a certain authority, which means printing a lazy article like this is abject irresponsibility on the part of a publication that actually shapes the opinions of people in academia. It makes it more likely that I have to apologize for my MFA when I?m in a room full of PhDs. It does nothing at all to advance useful discussion of the changing role of writers in our culture.

Source: http://tom.mcallister.ws/?p=760

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