I just completed two more classes toward my Master’s in Fine Arts with a focus in creative writing. I am over halfway there, and while there has been a lot about the program I haven’t liked, there have been far more valuable and enjoyable aspects than negative. So, why do fine arts degrees get a bad rap? There are a lot of myths about MFA programs floating around out there; here are three that I’ve come to consider debunked during my time in the program.
Myth #1: To be a successful writer, you must attend an MFA program.
I’m not here to sell you on MFA programs, just to give my perspective, which will hopefully help anyone who’s considering a program with their decision. The truth is, you don’t need an MFA to be a writer. Plenty of successful authors never went that route.
That’s not to say an MFA isn’t helpful. Whether an MFA is right for you depends on your skill level, your goals, and your resources. Do you feel you have a grip on how to use writing and craft elements? Do you just want to write, or is your goal to land an academic role in the literary community? Do you have time, energy, and finances to fit homework into your life?
I was drawn to an MFA program because it provided the structure I needed to focus on my writing. One thing I’ve learned about myself is that I am far more likely to respond to external expectations than expectations I place on myself, which means I’m going to find plenty of reasons and excuses to skip out on that 1,000-word-per-day goal I set for myself; but there’s no chance in hell I’ll fail to turn in that 5,000-word excerpt that’s due at the end of the week.
One of the main appeals of Southern New Hampshire University’s program1 was that a finished novel of at least 60,000 words is a graduation requirement, and several of the classes are geared specifically toward completing subsequent parts of your book. This allows me to stress less about how productive I’m being – or not being.
My work-in-progress aside, I’ve gained tons of knowledge on aspects peripheral to the core topics of writing and editing. Learning more about self-publishing has led me to consider it as a viable alternative. Learning more about marketing has led to this website, my newsletter, and a not entirely unbearable social media presence. Learning more about professions within the industry, like editing and coaching, has me excited about more than just being a published author.
You may not need an MFA to become a successful writer, but depending on your skill level, goals, and resources, it could be exactly what you need to put you on track for what you consider success.
Myth #2: MFA programs force you to use inefficient, unproductive methodologies.
I don’t think this is a prevalent one, but I have seen a couple of posts on social media making this claim. And I can see where it comes from; the prevailing guidance on writing a novel is to get the “ugly first draft” done and then go back and edit. Most in the business will tell you that you shouldn’t expect the first draft to be good or even comprehensible. Any effort to edit while you write is ruining your flow and stifling your productivity.
Writing and the writing industry is full of these seemingly arbitrary “rules.” You must do it this way. You must not do it that way. I’d love to know at what point this belief became dogma so I would know how many great books were done the “wrong” way.
The best way to do things is the way that works best for you.
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So, what does this have to with the MFA? Well, I’ve completed two classes now that are primarily focused on the structure of my novel: one in which we wrote the opening and inciting incident, and one in which we wrote two subsequent scenes. We workshopped each of the four scenes and received feedback from our instructors and classmates.
This means we’re editing as we go.
Sacrilege! A deviation from the divine order!
Or is it a different approach that may work much better for some authors?
I’m a firm believer that the best way to do things is the way that works best for you. You don’t have to write 1,500 words or six pages a day if that obligation makes sitting down to write anxiety inducing or takes time away from higher priorities. You don’t have to rip the rearview mirror down and keep the pedal to the metal for 90,000 words without taking a break to reconsider some plot points you flew past in a pixelated blur.
You do have to learn for yourself what works, what keeps you invested and excited and productive. What allows you to focus on your work while maintaining what little sanity you have left. For most people, that might be word-vomiting a first draft and going back to clean up the mess. But for others, that may mean spending three days to craft the perfect paragraph before moving on.
Myth #3: MFA programs produce “cookie-cutter” writing.
First, what constitutes “cookie-cutter” writing, and why is it a bad thing?
If you intend to be the next Hemingway or Toni Morrison, maybe this is a concern for you. MFAs – at least the program I’m in – focus on the craft of writing, the elements of writing, authorial techniques, genre conventions and creative decisions. They teach you what agents, editors, publishers, and readers expect.
And expectations are a powerful thing.
Imagine a friend offers to bring cookies to your daughter’s birthday party. You don’t harangue your friend about ingredients, size, shape, and texture; you accept their offering with gratitude because you haven’t even picked up the cake and you can’t remember if you gave the petting zoo the right address.
Still, you’ve unconsciously formed certain expectations regarding the cookies. But when your friend shows up with gluten-free avocado kale cookies…well, they’re more likely to go home with the miniature donkey or the incredibly adorable highland cow.
The same applies to readers. Kind of.
Genre, tropes, and conventions exist because readers want to know what they can expect. And long before your cookies are even available for consumption, agents, editors, and publishers want to know that you know how to make a cookie that includes the elements cookie-lovers know and love.
Sure, you might sprinkle in a little razzle dazzle. An unexpected dash of sea salt in your famous double-chunk chocolate chip. Subtle notes of lavender in your lemon square.
But you still want potential cookie eaters to be able to recognize from across the room that it’s a f*cking cookie.
I assume “cookie-cutter” applies to novels like Frieda McFadden, Shari Lapena, and Sarah J. Mass. So-called formulaic novels. Unoriginal. But the thing is, only you can write your story. So, I could follow Frieda McFadden’s formula to the T and never produce a book that’s the same shape, size, and flavor profile.
Do MFAs produce “cookie-cutter” writing? No, they give you foundational ingredients and tools to optimize your odds of completing a marketable novel.
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If you’re the type that likes to understand how the sausage is made – and packaged and marketed and sold – before you start adding your own twists and tweaks, an MFA is an excellent place to learn.
An MFA is not for everybody, but it’s definitely for somebody. Take some time to honestly assess your knowledge and skill level and to decide what your goals are, what success means to you. Take a minute to understand what opportunities are out there, and what resources you have available to put toward taking advantage of those opportunities. Seek out differing perspectives and make a well-informed decision. It could be that an MFA program is just what you need to hone your abilities and focus enough to achieve that lifelong dream of becoming a published author.
If you would like to know more, comment below or contact me here.