When I decided to go for the MFA in Creative Writing, a good friend counseled, “Don’t let them ruin you.” I had no idea at the time what she might have meant.
Now, three years after graduating, I understand she was warning me to maintain my voice and avoid falling into what some critics of MFA programs have described as a homogenized tone and style that is characteristic of many MFA grads. The thought of doing some writing self-analysis[1] had been in my mind for a few months, and moved up this past week, as I critiqued a flash fiction written by a new member of my writers’ group.
The story, a mere 900 words, was quite good, and included a brilliant revelation at the close. Although only version two, with a tweak here and there it could easily find space in a variety of publications. But from word one I recognized it as the product of a writer with an MFA. In it, a holdup at a McDonald’s was subordinated to the narrator’s preoccupation over her coworkers’ personalities and the emptiness that characterized her marriage—a thoroughly character-driven piece as opposed to plot-driven. More telling was the author’s use of language—lyrical passages dappled throughout: “I felt giddy and fractured”; “Terry drew deep, forgotten gulps of air”; “the sunrise peaking above the Bungalows…looked bruised.” Few opportunities to sprinkle such literary garnish on the omelet of the story were passed up.[2]
I couldn’t help thinking this writer had been encouraged by the instructors and classmates in the MFA program to develop this writing style. I admit, I’ve written many stories that incorporate this same lyrical tone. The environment at an MFA program seems infused with such poetic sensibilities, perhaps to the point where the writer who speaks in plain language is sometimes thought of as a bit of a primitive, or at least as unsophisticated.
Since graduation, however, I’ve been a member of two groups made up largely of non-MFAs, and I’ve often battled with them over the use of lyrical language. It’s made me start to compare my early work to more recent writing, and to evaluate whether the lyricism is warranted, as well as to weigh the plot v. character aspects. No judgments yet—this will be a long and ongoing process.
But I’m interested to know what MFA grads think of their writing as compared to before the program, and what non-MFAs think of MFA-like writing. Looking forward to your comments.
As a non-MFA’er I’ve been going through an introspective process as well. I’ve been going through it for some time. I respect what the goal of the MFA is, but I worry that sometimes it’s an ideal not ground in reality, that the writing style and philosophy is a self-justifying approach. If a writer holds up his or her work and proclaims it a work of excellence so good that only a dedicated and well-educated reader with above-average intelligence can read it, then I think there is a problem. On the other hand, if a writer holds up a book and proclaims its written at a fifth grade reading level and taps into the lizard brain within, that’s a problem, too.
There are two issues I focus on in writing…first, storytelling and readability. I want people to read it. I want them to enjoy it. The second is subtext, the thematic statement, or as I’ve started thinking of it, the song of the author. The closer the story to the author, at an emotional level, the truer it stands as expression.
When you mention lyricism in MFA writing, I think of another term–masturbation. The worst writer is the one so in love with himself that he thinks by just painting pretty sentences that he can abandon the other elements of storytelling and instead entrance through pretty and uneconomic statements.
One of the writers’ groups I am in is perhaps fortunate I was not in attendance at the last meeting, for I surely would have thrown about many a wet blanket–mostly calling into question the issues you raised in your post.
For me, it is a matter of balance. It’s about creating an organic work. Admittedly, some of my writing is slap and dash, meant to be strictly commercial and appealing to a niche with disposable income, but other writing I do is, hopefully, more spiritual and complex, more in line with how I view myself as a writer. I have no problem being more than one type of author and writing more than one type of fiction. We are all multi-faceted individuals. Why shouldn’t that our writings reflect that?
Posted by Stewart Sternberg (@ssternberg) | May 12, 2012, 1:38 PMStewart, I think you touched on another aspect of the Creative Writing MFA explosion in academia when you noted “a self-justifying approach.” A major reason universities have adopted MFA programs is revenue–such programs can be profitable. It seems to follow that some effort to brand the MFA experience and the knowledge it imparts as unique is necessary to ensure enrollment. If writers believed they could garner the same knowledge just by reading and writing on their own, they might opt to save the twenty to forty thou.
Of course, the same is true for academic programs and institutions of all kinds. But in a bottom-line culture, even the arts have to prove marketability.
Posted by jpon | May 12, 2012, 3:24 PMAnd of course, one should proof and edit before hitting submit, whether one is an MFA or not. Please forgive some of the absurd added words in the above text and focus on the meaning. Especially the last two sentences..”We are all multi-faceted individuals. Why shouldn’t our writings reflect that.” Good grief. I’m going to go have a cup of coffee,
Posted by Stewart Sternberg (@ssternberg) | May 12, 2012, 1:44 PMForgiven.
Posted by jpon | May 12, 2012, 3:24 PMYou’ve asserted this before, that there is a clear, visible difference, and I suppose I will believe it is true in your notable experience, but I’m not sure I believe it’s true in a universal sense. Many writers who did not get their MFA’s write in a way you would probably deem MFAish. As a graduate, you probably know exactly when the first MFA program began and can explain the talent of writers who came before and/or did not participate?
Really, you get your MBA mostly to connect with others in the business field. Yes, you learn stuff but a large reason to do it is for the connections. I think the same might be true for the MFA.
And this bit about lyricism? I must admit, a little voice in my head said, “Oh. Do you mean she writes like a girl?”
Posted by girl in the hat | May 12, 2012, 2:32 PMWell, no about the history of the MFA, but I have read a few articles that complain about how MFA programs are producing writers who write a lot like each other. Like this one: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/atlarge/2009/06/08/090608crat_atlarge_menand
And yes about the networking. My MFA connected me with the publishers of the Los Angeles Review, where I’m now the book review editor, and with many other writers I communicate with. With the writing biz the way it is these days, networking is paramount. The days of the unknown writer, toiling away in obscurity before being “discovered,” are long over.
As for “writing like a girl,” that wasn’t my intention at all. As I said, I have waxed lyrical in many stories, and in part I think that was encouraged by the MFA experience. Ultimately, though, I have become what I call a Chekhovian–simpler language, clear imagery, a disdain for unnecessary backstory. If the characters accurately express the philosophical questions raised by the story through their actions and dialogue, none of that other stuff is necessary. (Did I say that? Man, no wonder people think I’m a pompous egghead.) And that’s not to say I don’t appreciate and enjoy lyrical language–when it’s called. But I find many writers employ poetic language for its own sake, and that usage is debatable.
Not so sure about the “notable experience” part, but thanks for saying it.
Posted by jpon | May 12, 2012, 3:41 PMYou asked non-MFAers to say what we thought about MFA-like writing, and I still don’t know exactly what that means, but I do see that my comment rather missed the gist of your post. I was probably remembering one of your previous posts when I commented. Perhaps lyrical is in fashion in the MFA world, just as Chekovian/Carverish minimalism was in vogue in the 80s and 90s. I don’t mind a little lyricism–in the right context, it’s a good tool to have. I must say that you do have a knack for making people want to comment on your blog, Joe–keep them coming!
Posted by girl in the hat | May 13, 2012, 1:20 AMThanks for the compliment, Anna. It helps. As it happens, when my wife read this blog she remarked that I’m too cynical. So I promised that a future blog will be all niceness and good feelings. It will probably be 50 words long. We’ll see how many comments that one gets!
Posted by jpon | May 13, 2012, 1:43 AMThough I haven’t gone the MFA route, I have gone the MA/PhD route, and so I’ve done a lot of the same reading that MFA-ers have done. I mention this because I frequently find lyrical flourishes in my own writing, and my guess is that they come less from teachers telling me to add them (or not at all, since I never took a fiction writing course) but from having read so many. Maybe they show up in so many workshop manuscripts because that’s what the writers are reading. An echo-chamber effect, perhaps? We’re all steeped in the literature of our times, so it’s only natural that contemporary flourishes seep into our writing from time to time (or even on a regular basis) even if we never learned those flourishes in the classroom.
Posted by Marc Schuster | May 12, 2012, 7:54 PMI think the “echo-chamber” idea sums it up pretty well. Writers are told to read as much as possible, and especially to read writers they would like to write like. So yes, writers can learn literary fiction without the MFA. But most MFA writing programs deal exclusively in literary works, and students can’t help but be influenced by those choices, I’d say. What’s interesting is that there are now some master’s programs in genre writing–would love to see the book lists in those courses.
Posted by jpon | May 12, 2012, 10:12 PMI’m glad you explained what ‘MFA writing’ is. It’s a term I’ve often heard but never understood, possibly because you need to hold an MFA to know what that style of writing looks like.
I agree with the echo-chamber analogy, even in genre writing. So much writing advice centers around ‘read what you want to write’ and ‘read to understand your genre’, which is perhaps why all thrillers sound exactly the same (and romances, sci-fi, literary, etc). I think it’s much more helpful to read outside one’s genre and find a fresh way to tell the story, maybe by writing cross-genre or by taking a slightly different approach to structure or whatever–just something to shake things up a bit.
I wonder if the MFA makes the writer afraid to take chances. Maybe that’s the real downside.
Posted by Averil Dean | May 13, 2012, 12:14 PMRoberto Bolaño once said that writers afraid to take chances aren’t writers. Mostly though, I wish editors and publishers would take more chances.
Posted by jpon | May 13, 2012, 1:12 PMPost MFA my writing is more realized. I still use lots of lyricism like before, but I use it to complement the metaphor of accretion rather than sticking out as showy. One can be lyrical with plain language as well. I think Gerald Manley Hopkins is a prime example of making common language lyrical. And Carver an example of plain language that’s stark and emotional. Although they probably didn’t have their MFAs.
Posted by Ross Gale | May 12, 2012, 10:54 PMSome great points. Sounds like you have a good perspective on how to put your MFA knowledge to use in your writing. And you’ve anticipated part of my blog for next week, where I was planning on talking about all the great things my MFA did for my writing.
Posted by jpon | May 13, 2012, 1:32 AMI look forward to it.
Posted by Ross Gale | May 13, 2012, 4:46 AMI wrote a bit about this on my website to encourage other MFAs and non MFAs I know to enter into this discussion.
During my MFA, I didn’t necessarily feel there was only one kind of story, essay, or poem I might read, but to be fair, I was in a pretty small community of writers. I can feel a shift in my own writing since then, which feels organic to me. I guess, as corny as it is to say, my writing continues to evolve. So much of my writing is driven by my subject matter (for many years now, I’ve been writing about dance, and my experiences in ballet) that I feel the subject determines so much of how I write–just trying to get it right, and be genuine and authentic. But it is tough to get out of my own way in terms of trying to evaluate my writing. I do my best to try to find ways to grow.
I will also say that my physical being influences my writing a ton. A few years ago I had knee surgery which alleviated some pretty intense pain. Once recovered, my writing took on a new lightheartedness. The physical, mental, and emotional connections in my writing surprises me in good ways.
Posted by reneekristine | May 13, 2012, 2:49 PMSounds like your writing is headed in the right direction. Whether MFA or not, growing as a writer means growing from within, organically. Sure, there are plenty of outside influences, but a writer has to be comfortable with what s/he is saying and how s/he is saying it. Readers can tell pretty easily when the writing isn’t real.
Thanks for commenting.
Posted by jpon | May 13, 2012, 4:15 PMThe truly succesful MFA graduate is one who can incorporate the elements of craft and create his/her own unique alchemy, beyond the homogeneity that all institutions of higher learning entail (this applies to all branches of learning, by the way.) The truly succesful MFA is the one who can retrace such a journey on his/her own. I respect and encourage learning. While writing a good story makes one a writer, I suppose, there is a higher purpose in being a writer, which for me encompasses the knowledge that I am coming in on a long story, the story of other writers and their work and travails.
Posted by Nadia Ibrashi | May 13, 2012, 10:37 PMThe truly succesful MFA graduate is one who can incorporate the elements of craft and create his/her own unique alchemy, beyond the homogeneity that all institutions of higher learning entail (this applies to all branches of learning, by the way.) The truly succesful non-MFA graduate is the one who can retrace such a journey on his/her own. I respect and encourage learning. While writing a good story makes one a writer, I suppose, there is a higher purpose in being a writer, which for me encompasses the knowledge that I am coming in on a long story, the story of other writers and their work and travails.
Posted by Nadia Ibrashi | May 13, 2012, 10:39 PMYou’re right, Nadia. MFA and other programs can only teach the available knowledge. After that, it’s up to the individual to take that knowledge and apply it in new ways. And whether MFA or non-MFA, writers should continue the intellectual journey by reading and engaging other writers in discussions of craft and purpose–and I thank everyone who comments here on helping me do that.
Posted by jpon | May 14, 2012, 12:23 AMRight, I was very intrigued by your comments. I used the stories I am currently workshopping to try and get into about five MFA programs, and was not successful. I think I am going to belt out whatever is within in my primitive voice until I am done with that. I think I am very attracted to the writing in the Sun, Calyx and Tin House, but I am starting to hate Glimmer Train. I am not sure what that says about me. I really didn’t get that story at first, but I did like it. I just saying to myself. “Is this girl for real?” And since she didn’t seem ‘real’ I thought the whole thing was imaginary. (no news reporters and even the policeman was unsympathetic) I guess I will have to absorb stories a little slower and watch for this type of writing.
Posted by Jake Pagan | May 17, 2012, 7:55 PMHa! I could go on at some length on what I dislike about Glimmer Train. Talk about sentimentality! Anyone can start a journal and be a literary gatekeeper. Not familiar with the writing in Calyx, but Tin House and The Sun are first rate. Keep reading them!
Posted by jpon | May 17, 2012, 8:23 PM