There was drama yesterday in the twitterverse about an organization that offers to help writers with the MFA application process—for $335. The virtual feathers flew! I went over to the website to see what all the noise was about. My take: I don’t think it’s a good idea to pay someone to whip your writing sample into shape for your application. I am not saying that you shouldn’t have someone look it over and accept feedback, but I do not encourage you to hire an MFA expert. Here’s why.
You want to find an MFA program that’s right for you, and your work. Abramson Leslie Consulting highlights the fact that all of their consultants are graduates from Iowa Writers Workshop. As many people know, this program is thought to be the best in the country. Whether it is the best or not, it is not the only program in the country and it may not be the right program for you. (Sandra Cisneros said she hated it.) You need to let your work find a good home for itself; if that is Iowa, so be it. If it’s not, that’s cool, too.
I think of this like love. Let’s say that someone offered to make you over in such a way that would lead to you being attractive to a Certain Person. Let’s say for the sake of this post, that this was even possible. So, once you have been accepted by the Certain Person is it going to be a good match, really? When you take off the wig and the mask? When you start speaking in your real accent? You need to be in a program that wants to work with you in your true voice. If the way you WRITE isn’t accepted by a particular program, do you think YOU will be accepted?
This is not to be naïve. I know that there are benefits to having the right pedigree. I am not one to downplay privilege and benefits. And yes, it never hurts to be associated with a hard-core hegemonic institution like the Iowa Writers Workshop. I have been to Bread Loaf and it seems that nearly everyone crossed paths before at Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Iowa, etc. (However, I think this is as much a matter of socio-economic class than the pull of the actual institutions.)
This said, let us not lose fact that the MFA is an educational process. I got my MFA at Arizona State University—not exactly a name-droppy place. But I learned so much studying with Ron Carlson. I won’t say he made me a writer, but he helped me take my work to the next level and I will be grateful to him for the rest of my life. ASU was the right program for me. I don’t know if I would have written the book I wrote had I been at Iowa or Columbia or Wherever the Hell. (I was a Ph.D. student at The University of Iowa for three years in the early nineties and I can say, unequivocally, that those were the very worst years of my life. Just writing this has made me upset. Seriously. It may cost me my writing day.)
But to get back to my original point, don’t pay someone to help you fit into the mold of a particular program. If you want to go to school, get your team together and let them vet your manuscript. Pick a school because you want to work with their faculty. Choose a part of the country that won’t leave you isolated and depressed. (Ask me about trying to get my hair done in Iowa City. Ask me about trying to go on a date.) Go somewhere where you are wanted, where the faculty shows enthusiasm for you and your work. Talk to students at the school and see if you dig them. You want to go somewhere where you will be nourished as person, which will noursish you as a writer.
Maybe it’s just me, but I think that my sanity is worth so much more than to be able to coo over cocktails, “When I was in the Workshop….”