The Road to MFA-ville (In The Word Cellar)

Today, I saw my name in print. This is not the first time this has happened, and, gosh, I hope it won't be the last, but this one was pretty sweet in a blood-sweat-and-tears way. Today the lecture list for my final MFA residency was released. You can see the whole thing here (click on "Residency Lecture Offerings"), but this is the part that made me smile the most:

THE SECRET LIFE OF LANGUAGE
Jennifer McGuiggan
How do we use language? How does it use us? The subconscious life of language can take us beyond the everyday surface of words and plunge us into deeper waters. We'll look at questions such as the following: Is language a sensuous entity or a mere code for useful communication? How do the sounds of words impact us? Can language itself be a creative force both on the page and in the world? How do writers harness the inherent power of language to convey meaning? And how do we remember to have fun with words amidst such weighty topics? This lecture applies to all genres and will include excerpts from Virginia Woolf, Dylan Thomas, Eudora Welty, and others.

I was also pretty damn impressed with my classmates' lecture descriptions. We certainly do look good on paper. And I think we're pretty cool in person, too. I'm honored to have spent the last two years with so many fine writers, including those in other classes and especially on the Vermont College of Fine Arts faculty. I'm looking forward to my last trip to campus as a student, to hearing my classmates share what they've learned, and to -- oh yeah -- graduating!

When I was deciding whether or not to apply for grad school, a good friend of mine tried to dissuade me from it -- not because she thought I couldn't hack it, but because the thought of two years in academia made her want to take a long nap under the covers. This friend, mind you, is a college graduate, incredibly smart, and a fantastic writer to boot. She just didn't see the allure of pursuing a masters degree in writing. She raised a lot of good points, and I carefully considered her advice. I'm glad she voiced her opinion, because it pushed me to fully articulate mine and be certain that I was following the right path for me.

I don't think that anyone must get an MFA to be a writer -- or to be a good writer. But I do know that it was just what I needed at this stage of my writing life. Many of you have asked me for my thoughts on choosing (or not choosing) a graduate writing program. Over the next few weeks months I'll share my thoughts on picking a school and why you might (or might not) want to commit to a degree program.

The "In The Word Cellar" writing tips series has been on an extended hiatus, but I'm reviving it with this mini-series on the MFA. If you have other questions about writing or the creative life that you'd like me to answer, please leave it in the comments or email me.

And now I must go finish the final draft of my lecture. (What? You thought it was all done just because I had a title and summary? Pshaw!)

In The Word Cellar normally runs on the second and fourth Wednesday of the month. Read other posts in the series here.

The truth is...

view from neahkahnie mountain (diana f+, fuji pro 400h)

The truth is, I don't always practice what I preach, or do what I teach.

The truth is, sometimes I avoid the page, the screen, the words -- anything that requires me to take a stand, make a point, hold an opinion.

The truth is, I believe writing to be a magical gift from the faerie gods of creativity, and I believe it to be a burden too heavy to carry. I also believe it's a fun romp through language. And something so sacred I live in daily terror of being unable to fulfill my duty (and honor) as its medium.

The truth is that I like to believe I'm comfortable with artistic contradictions, but they make me twitch and hide out under the (metaphorical and literal) covers.

The truth is, I spend a lot of time feeling overwhelmed and scared, not just about the amount of things to be done for a graduate degree, for a creative business, and for an everyday life, but also about the desire to live authentically and passionately.

The truth is, I don't write everyday, and I used to think this was a realistic choice, a simple matter of personal preference and the workings of my own creative process. But I've begun to suspect this will have to change if I want to go deeper.

Go deeper.

The truth is: That phrase scares me. But it's the advice my mentor is giving me about my writing. It's the whisper I'd already heard months ago from the still small voice of my muse. It's the same mantra the holy universe chants to me every time I ask for clear answers on who and what and how to be.

The truth is that I don't know how to go deeper. The truth is I don't want to go deeper. The truth is, I know going deeper is the only path available to me right now.

The truth is, I'm not laying it all on the line here. I'm skirting some issues.

The truth is, I tend to mix up the proper use of "lay" and "lie." Also, "effect" and "affect" cause me some consternation.

The truth is that technique and craft and practice will make you a better writer. But at a certain point, you have to dive off of that mountain and trust not just the power of your own arms, legs, and lungs, but also the direction and forgiveness of the current. (And the truth is that by "you," I mean "me.")

What's your writing wish?

My current wishlist of all things writing-related:

• to finish my critical thesis, which sounds like an ugly and scary project, but is full of magic and beauty;
• to write a new batch of sea stories;
• to send a few sea stories out into the world (to literary journals);
• to read and read and read for pure pleasure;
• to dip my toe back into fiction;
• to wade around in poetry for awhile;
• to write here more often; and
• to write a sea story from a cozy beach house overlooking the surf and filled with a community of creative souls. (This wish is coming true in February at a seaside writing retreat. Want to join me?)

What's your writing wish?

Writing Lab Panel (In The Word Cellar)

A few months ago I spoke on a Writing Lab panel at BlogHer called "How to Use Your Blogging to Make You a Better Writer" (a rather unwieldy title, I know). The audio recording of the session is now available. If you're interested in figuring out who's speaking, take a look at the liveblog transcript here. It's a loose outline of what was said (since it's nearly impossible to keep up with four panelists and audience members in real time!), but at least you'll be able to figure out who's talking most of the time. My fellow panelists were Dianne Jacob, Mary McCarthy, and Suzanne Reisman.

p.s. FYI: The person introducing me says my last name wrong. It's pronounced Mc-Gwig-en.

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In The Word Cellar runs on the second and fourth Wednesday of the month. Read other posts in the series here.

Edited to add: I'm putting these In The Word Cellar posts on hiatus for a bit while I do some other types of writing. Look for more in a month or two.

Dealing with Feedback (In The Word Cellar)

Frog Creek Lodge, WA

One of the best things about getting feedback on my writing during grad school? Advisors who disagree with each other. Seriously.

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One essay, two opinions:

I love how the essay turns here and you start using the pronoun "you," almost as if you're guiding the reader through the landscape and giving them directions. I like the intimate feel of this.

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I don't think the essay works as well here when you begin to address the reader as "you" and give them directions such as "If you walk here...." The tone changes and doesn't match the rest of the piece. You start to sound like a travel guide.

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These next comments refer to two different essays, but they highlight the two advisors' differing world views:

You're too hard on yourself in this portrayal. Don't hold yourself to such high standards!

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You could probe more deeply into your own mistakes and shortcomings.

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See? Isn't that fun? (I should note that the above statements are paraphrasings, not direct quotes.)

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Each month, I send about 30 pages of writing to my grad school faculty advisor, who reads it and then offers feedback and suggestions on what's working and what could be working better. I'm in my third semester of this process, long enough to have had several different faculty members read some of the same pieces as I edit them. (I work with a new advisor each semester.) I respect all of these professors as writers, teachers, and scholars. These are smart, well-read, and wicked-good writers.

But I don't always agree with what they tell me. One of the best parts is that they don't always agree with each other. I love it when this happens, because it frees me to figure out what I think. Of course, I'm free to figure that out at any time, but receiving conflicting feedback is a great catalyst for this.

But what happens when multiple people say that something isn't working in a story? It's another invitation to figure out what I think. I step back and take a fresh look at the writing in question. I may decide that it's just the way I want it, feedback be damned! Or I may realize I need to tweak it to make it work better for readers. Or I may decide I need to rewrite or delete it completely.

Getting feedback on your work can be intimidating, nerve wracking, and downright maddening. But if you can take everything with a grain of salt (and maybe a shot of tequila with a squeeze of lime), you have the opportunity to see how readers respond to your work, which can be valuable.

Say you're in a workshop with fellow writers. If nobody in the room understands that your main character was a ghost, and you wanted readers to understand that your main character was a ghost, well, it's time to rethink how you present Ghosty.

If half the room gets Ghosty and half doesn't, then it's time to consider who you want to listen to. (You can set your own criteria for this. I like to side with whichever group has the better writers. Or whichever group has the most cool people in it. Either way.)

Receiving feedback on your work takes some getting used to. I recommend seeking out people who respect you and whom you respect. It's good if they're also kind. Even if I don't like the feedback someone gives me, I try to step back and see if there's any truth or merit in what they said. If there is, I take what I need from it and apply it to my work. If there isn't, I try to let go of it gracefully.

But here's the most important part: In the end you have to trust yourself and stay true to your vision. Some people will get it, and some won't. And that's just fine. So I say be open to feedback, but let your own voice be the one that guides you.

Want more writing tips? Join me in October and November for Alchemy: The Art & Craft of Writing, an online course for creative souls. Register by Sept. 30 to save $30!

In The Word Cellar runs on the second and fourth Wednesday of the month. Read other posts in the series here.