Today, I was reading an piece in AWP's The Writer's Chronicle about "theme" in writing. Written by Eileen Pollack, she's the Zell Director (as in Helen, wife of Sam, owner of the bankrupt Tribune Company, and has induced the LA Times in a near coma...talk about irony) of the MFA Program in Creative Writing at the University of Michigan. She revealed that when she spoke about "theme" in her class, she avoids the word altogether and talks about aboutness.Okay, I'm game for huge philosophical discussions. But if we're reducing theme to aboutness, I can do without the 2 year expense of a master's program. To be fair, she had plenty of great examples to help us understand the intricacies of meaning as it pertains to the development of story and character. She offered this truism:
"paradoxically, the more you understand your story's meaning, the less you need to say."There were also examples on how to discern when your story is floating on nothingness or headed toward so whatness (my terms). But by and large I had the awful feeling this article was a peril or publish deal. I had to reread passages to figure out what she was saying. There was so much thereness there, it caused my eyes to glaze over. She ended her long article with a phrase that naturally will separate people into two camps: the MFA and the non-MFA writer:
"By the end, if you keep your faith, you come up with a story that embodies in every line what you never knew you knew but now you know you don't know, and damn well wish you did."I'm grateful there are ivory towers for writers like her. If she had to make her living writing $150 articles, competing with others to blog, tweet or facebook for pay, or take up an offer for press credentials to report in a war zone, I'm afraid she'd never make it. Because most writers don't think like her. If they did --they'd never write again.
MFA programs in creative writing are the redevelopment agencies of the academic world. They exist to keep writers employed. Maybe I'm being a bit brutal, but it seems with the number of them sprouting like mushrooms on a lawn, this assessment is correct. We've gone from a few august ones like The Iowa Writer's Workshop at the University of Iowa, to low residency, brief residency, residency in your home wearing boxer shorts. Perhaps an imagined residency program is in the works. Since writers will always desire jobs with benefits and a steady income, MFA programs will continue to proliferate.
Recently, a friend suggested we close down all the MFA programs in the U.S. He isn't the only
one to issue the battle cry, look at this discussion between five successful authors about MFA programs. They have all have been published and have even taught. If you want to see a hilarious comparison between MFA and non-MFA writers go look at Letters to Moby written in 2005 in The Final MFA report (I suppose it doesn't have a hypertext link because the MFA who wrote it hadn't figured out HTML):"Non–MFA people seem to need more food than MFA people and were often super–concerned with who is in charge of the grill. The MFA grads were more suited for tube–floating and complaining about the food. Both groups suck at fishing, but MFA people have the capacity to catch small frogs." -Michael A Fitzgerald, Boise IDI don't think we need to shut down MFA programs. But when we read pieces like Eileen Pollack's, we need to ask if getting a master's degree is going to make a better writer. Well, it might. There's no denying that time spent with other writers talking about their stories, or even hashing out topics like theme is inspiring, and energizing. Intellectual stimulation is a good thing. A program will probably give you easier access to a wide breadth of material. What it does above all else, is give you the luxury of two years to write and think about the nuances of the things Pollack writes about. The about of aboutness, so to say. And really? Who wouldn't want some of that? Especially writers, who tend to be awful procrastinators.
Will it help you write more interesting stories? Well, no. It might not.
Perhaps the question is, will it help you make your living as a writer? The answer is no. There are no guarantees you'll be able to pay the rent as a writer --especially now, when most are doing it free on the internet. The truth is that it will always be a lot of work.

This being said, I think there are many other ways to become a better writer. The first is to read a lot, and stretch yourself to read outside of your genre. Find a university extension program and take a ten week course. If you can't do that, take a two week workshop, a weekend workshop, even a two hour workshop with a writer whom you respect. Read magazines, join writing groups, keep up on what's being published now. Go ahead and have those heady intellectual discussions. I don't think writers do that enough.
But the most important thing is to be open to feedback and discussion with other writers. No one learns how to write alone, no one learns how to make something passable into a great piece without the example of others. One can't underscore the importance of something bloggers don't talk about enough -- word mechanics. Learn to write to the end, and don't be surprised when you discover editing your work is more painful than writing the first draft.

As I have said before, a writer is always learning and honing their skills. The majority of writers in the world have never gone through an MFA program. There's only your desire and determination to get you started and keep you going.
Nice post
ReplyDeleteThank you! I hope Emma gets to the vet tomorrow, by the way! I'm taking Louie in for his recheck. He was sick and set us back $500! But worth every penny.
ReplyDelete'Aboutness' doesn't rock my boat.
ReplyDeleteWell said. And thank you for the link.
ReplyDeleteI find it troubling to read complex elucidations on "how to write."
ReplyDeleteIt embarrasses me when I don't know the technical terms being bandied about. I don't know the phrases that describe sentence construction, yet I know how to write sentences.
Throughout history, there have been countless successful storytellers, very few of whom had any kind of degree in writing or literature or english. Most had no degree at all.