Is this the part where I tell you what I learned?
Oh, well that's it. MFA classes are over. The last two nights all the second years have looked a little dazed, saying, "Hey! We're done! Almost!" Almost, we amend, because we're not done with the writing or the thesis. Almost, because we all call ourselves and each other writers, now, and if there is one thing I've learned in the MFA program it's that being a writer isn't a thing that ends.
The first years, just now in the middle of it all ask, "How does it feel?"
We're in a silly rum bar and there is water dripping down the rocks on the wall and fake wood planks nailed to the ceiling. We order a large bowl of liquor. The bowl is a blue skull and we all dip our heads over to sip from skinny pink straws. It is a little ridiculous. We all feel a little ridiculous.
So we tell the first years, "It feels weird!" "It feels good." "It's sad, that we won't see each other every week anymore."
And then we just sort of laugh and bump our elbows together as we sip at the cold sweet strong drink in the skull. We talk about the program, then. We talk about that first summer, and that first time we all went out together. We talk about how much we didn't know about each other, how much we didn't know about writing and weren't we so bright eyed and bushy tailed? It's only been two years but this is a nostalgic occasion and I think we are all remembering the beginning in warm sepia tones.
So. What have I learned? How to read a manuscript and critique a story, for one. Someone pointed out last night that we've written somewhere near two hundred critiques in the last two years. This is not something they mention so explicitly in the beginning. You're gonna be able to give feedback in your sleep, they should have told us. I've also learned how to read a critique. I've learned not to take either the praise or criticism that seriously. I no longer scan each response when I get home from workshop, hoping someone says I'm great! And perfect! Hooray! Twenty-three year old Margaret can not say the same thing.
Also. Vocabulary! I can talk about synecdoche and mimesis and objective correlatives. I have things to say about imagery and epiphanies and I can talk my way around a cliche character without ever saying the word. When someone talks about Carver or Joyce or narrative perspective I'm right there with them. I suppose this is concrete evidence that I have valid writing training.
Not that we were talking much about craft last night. I love it when a writer pulls off a lovely rhyming action as much as the next person, but craft doesn't sit next to you or lean in close to whisper a bit of gossip that it is totally ok to share now because we're all done. Well, almost, except for the thesis. Let's not talk about that. Is the skull finally drained?
I am going to miss everyone. I am going to miss my classes and my professors and the view from campus, looking out toward the hills of San Francisco. I am going to miss the routine and schedule and someone holding me accountable for actually getting stuff down on paper. Still, there's a lot ahead. A whole writing life and years and years to think about rising action and tension. It's the end and it's the beginning and someone once told me that in any great story the ending should circle back and lead, somehow, back to the first sentence. It's the end. Almost.
Thursday, May 13, 2010 at 1:52PM
Reader Comments (6)
It's the beginning!
I can't wait to see where you go and what you do. The next phase of your writing life (almost) begins!
Congrats! And I hear you about writing critique after critique after critique! However, now that you're done with classes, you'll be able to focus on your own writing more (without all of those critiques). This is your time to write, so enjoy it!
Oh, thanks everyone! You all make me feel warm and fuzzy!
Congrats! I know what you mean about the course ending etc. It's strange! Enjoy all of the writing, think how much is ahead!
Congrats on finishing all of your classes! Christine's right, it really is the beginning....