The Low-Residency MFA Handbook by Lori A. May

Reviewed by Sheila R. Lamb

Anyone looking for an excellent resource on low-residency programs should read The Low-Residency MFA Handbook by Lori A. May. May presents an incredibly thorough overview of low-residency programs. Using in-depth research and interviews with faculty, students, and alumni, she examines various issues, including the application process, funding, residency experiences and "life after the MFA."

Chapter two jumps into the most important question:  Is the Low-Residency Model Right for Me? May offers several topics for self-examination, including self-discipline, time, pedagogical training, the workshop approach, and many others. As with every chapter, May includes quotes from the interviews she conducted that shed light on that particular question.

For example, Jason Jack Miller, an alumnus from Seton Hill University, says this regarding artistic preparedness for low-residency programs: "A low-residency program isn't a place to decide whether or not you want to write. This type of program is for people fully committed to making the leap into writing as a lifestyle."

Specific program details are given in the core of the book, in chapter six. May lists each institution and their  focus areas of study (Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, screenplay, young adult, etc). She also includes each person interviewed for that institution and their role, such as program director, faculty, student, and alumnus. By including interviews along with the program facts, she breaks down information for teaching philosophy, residencies, and format/study. These criteria will help you decide which program might be the best fit.

Perhaps the richest part of the book are the extended interviews, listed in Appendix A.  May includes in-depth questions and answers, such as "What was your experience with non-residency semesters?" and "What can you tell us about working with your faculty mentors?"

As low-residency MFA programs proliferate, Lori A. May's Low-Residency MFA Handbook is a rare and valuable resource.

The Low-Residency MFA Handbook was published by Continuum Books.

Read more about Lori through her blog and her website.

Mailbag (Mar. 21)

Post news, questions, and concerns here. Good luck to all!

Recruiting from the Other Side

Last year at about this time I started getting a string of emails from Vanderbilt faculty, the first of which came from Mark Jarman, who at that time was a mythic character in my mind--one of those poets so accomplished that you don't even really think of them as a real person but as pure creative mystery. I had just left San Francisco and was driving back to Santa Cruz and checked my email on my phone. The email from Mark was cautiously optimistic and said that "nothing is final yet in our selection process." It was early Sunday afternoon, and presumably the 2010 recruitment weekend had just ended.

What I was to find out later is that over the course of the recruitment days, two of the accepted poets had seemed less than enthused about being here. I had already planned to fly to Tennessee to visit the University of Memphis, and after another encouraging email from Rick Hilles urging me to hold out a bit longer, I decided to go to Nashville, sit in on a class, meet some people, and just see. In visiting Vanderbilt I was amazed at how much effort was made for me, a waitlister. I met up with Zack, a first-year poet, and we got coffee and lunch (which he paid for) and he answered all the questions I had written down on the plane about the program. We rode to campus together where the program had arranged for me to have my own parking space for the time I was on campus that day to tour and sit in on the workshop. Zack had made copies of the poems being workshopped that day and Kate encouraged me to weigh in during the class. Afterward I met Mark Jarman, and then Rick Hilles and I went to chat on the balcony. After a while he took me on a tour of the campus and we walked around for nearly two hours talking about the program, the writers I'd studied with, Nashville, and many other things. The content of what was said was not even the most important part. It was the manner of it, and the willingness with which so much time was given.

The 10 days I spent between getting that first email from Mark and getting formally accepted to the program were a weird mix of exuberance and despair. Once I had gotten a taste of a program actually rolling out the stops, it was hard to consider any others. I had gotten to the point where I was considering not going anywhere if I didn't get in off the waitlist, so that I could reapply and hopefully attend the next year. I was lucky. Mark called the day before I was supposed to leave Nashville to accept me, and I got to go out with three of the students for margaritas that night to celebrate. I knew I'd found the right people and the right program.

This year, our MFA advisor Margaret (who is amazing) asked me to be the poetry representative in coordinating the Recruitment Weekend. So with my fiction friend Jill, we planned out Thursday through Saturday, sent emails to admitted students, made arrangements to pick everyone up from the airport, transport to and from the hotel and events, and arranged lunches and dinners and tours and coffee, doing our best to roll out the stops for people who would hopefully become our community. Neither Jill nor I had been at the recruitment activities last year, but we both feel very fortunate to be here now and can appreciate the insanity that accompanies the application season and decision-making process.

Last night as I was driving back home from the big English department party for faculty, students, and admitted students, it occurred to me that the whole thing was rather like dating, but not in exactly the way I saw it before. When I'd been going through this last year, we all heard tales of wooing by different schools and what an impact that made on the people who experienced it. Once I'd been wooed by Vanderbilt, I couldn't imagine anyone else. But from this side of things this year, I was very aware of how it seemed more like an awkward first date than a courtship. Even if the dinner is good and the guy came to pick you up and held doors open for you, it still has to feel right. First impressions are important, but sincerity is imperative.

I was impressed with the choices that the faculty had made. The personalities and backgrounds of the students are as different as my class this year, and the class that precedes us. But everyone seemed open and kind. Luckily for us current students, we're all glad to be here. When someone asked me about my experience, I could say honestly that there was nowhere I'd rather be, that everyone here is appreciated and the faculty go out of their way to make sure you get everything you need. The other thing though is that I genuinely liked everyone (which is good since I don't fake interest well) and went home a little giddy everyday at the prospect of these people being my peers. How cool to be on the other side, making sure that others feel welcome. I also know, though, how much of the decision depends on instinct. Even when people make you feel welcome, it might still not be right; no amount of urging or fun parties can make up for instinct. No matter what, you have to feel the spark. But by our last brunch today, the awkwardness of the first date seemed over. Real conversations were happening, summer plans were being discussed. Hopefully we'll get a second date.

Framework & Permission

Much has been said and argued over the so-called efficacy of creative writing programs, whether they churn out writers with duplicate styles as mentors, ruin the ability to write in your unique voice, etc.(I'm not actually going to get into that argument, because I think it's silly). Now that I'm almost a  year into the experience, this is what I think they most effectively provide: a framework and permission. 

If you're a visitor to this website, chances are you're a writer, or you're a person who writes who thinks *someday* with enough effort you might be able to call yourself that. You also probably have done battle with friends or family members who can't conceive of this so-called profession. Is staring at a screen all day really work? they might ask. And at some point, maybe that doubt seeped in a little so that now or in the past you haven't allowed yourself enough time and space to do the work you love, or you've found convenient excuses not to write (one of mine: but I'm not inspired to write). There's also that nagging question some of us might have about the usefulness of writing: what's the point? My writing isn't going to cure cancer, maybe it won't even keep me or a family living above the poverty line.

Grad school for me has been most useful in providing a framework to dispel some of these doubts and figure out what a writing life looks like. A writing life for almost everyone includes other work, whether it be teaching, tutoring, waiting tables, or the like. In my classes, no one ever says "After this, you'll have it made." We all operate under the knowledge that this is a hard way to make a living. But there is also the expectation that nonetheless you write. No longer can you blame not writing on lack of inspiration or busyness. If you're going to be a writer, it will always be while doing other things, so if you only have an hour between 10:30 and 11:30 on a Tuesday, then dammit that's when you'll write. 

This is something we all could have done before, and some of us have. But for some reason, getting into an environment with other writers gives us permission to write: writing becomes a responsibility rather than a distraction. We learn to say, "I can't go to dinner because I need to work on this story." And we are surrounded by people who think this is a useful endeavor and a valid reason. It's good practice for getting back out there where not everyone thinks so. 

But this is not the only permission I'm talking about. Being in grad school also gives us a framework to pursue what interests us. At the moment for me, this means that I'm taking a nonfiction class for the first time in my life. As a documentarian, it is actually kind of strange that I haven't really learned how to write nonfiction before. Certainly I've read it and written bits of it before to accompany my photography, but now I'm actually learning to do it. But here's the thing. You can't really teach people to write, right? You can talk with them about writing and you can discuss what they've written, but there isn't a nonfiction equation just as there isn't a fiction or poetry equation. Not every story begins with a landscape or a poignant quote. But being in a writing class on this subject gives me space to read what has come before. To get in the mindset of nonfiction, to see examples of different methods, and finally to jump in feet first and see what I come up with. The other thing it does is give me a framework and permission to learn about subjects and people who interest me.

A week and a half ago, I spent the weekend in a Tumbleweed Tiny House workshop learning to build small houses and interviewing some of the people there, including the architect who leads the workshops. I've spent time with him before, interviewing and photographing him for my thesis project on the Small House Movement at UCSC in documentary work. It had been two years since I'd last seen him and despite the fact that I was still in California for half of that, I hadn't followed up on his story in spite of a genuine desire to. Because I was busy and could no longer use my thesis as an excuse for the writing. But now that I had a nonfiction class, I felt I had permission to do the work. It turns out, he'd really liked the writing I'd done before and offered to trade me a workshop (more than I could afford) for a story. It turns out that writing can be currency.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is this: grad school, while definitely a unique experience and unlike the so-called real world, puts you in a position to become an agent in your life as a writer. To claim it with confidence. Sure it's possible to get into that headspace without a program, but it might take more time. Hopefully, upon finishing a program, you'll have peers who you can exchange work with even if you end up flung to opposite sides of the country or world. We are building our own frameworks here, meeting other writers and developing support systems for after. This, I think, is where the value lies. Not just in improving your writing now, but learning how to keep improving and keep writing in the future. 

Camp For Writers

Trust me, no one loves the solitude of writing more than I do. I crave small, dark rooms. I relish working alone and in silence. If it were possible to write in a vacuum, I would. But I know, and we all know, that we can't. We need other people, not only to read our writing, but to critique it, massage it, cajol it, and sometimes even like it. So we join writers' groups, or apply to MFA programs, or apply to writers conferences, all in hopes of finding that writerly community where our work, and our personalities, fit in.

So how many of you are considering (or are already planning to attend) a writers conference? I've been attending the same conference for eight years now, and I can't imagine a summer without it. *FULL DISCLOSURE - I work for the Southampton Writers Conference, so yes, I'm biased.* Having said that, there are a lot of conferences in the country to choose from, so you'll need to figure out what you are looking for in a conference experience before you find the one that is right for you. Are you looking to study with a particular teacher? Are you looking for industry contacts/meet-and-greet opportunities? Are you looking for a friendly, fun atmosphere or a more competitive one? Are you looking at conferences that are sponsored by MFA programs that you would like to apply to next year? It's a good way to learn about a program without making a commitment. It also gives the program a chance to learn about you, which may help them when assessing your MFA application (and a letter of recommendation from a workshop leader never hurts either).

So what interests you about the conference experience? What would deter you? I'm more than happy to give advice based on my own conferencing adventures. Let the comments begin.

*Also, a suggestion from a friend: "Read MFA programs' literary journals and magazines. Again, another window into prospective MFA programs. You can take a stab at reviewing one, too. NewPages has an open call for reviewers. See their website for guidelines."*

Teen Novel Class

Hi All. My friend Kristen Tracy is co-teaching a really cool class about Teen Novels. Moreinformation about it here. And sign-ups are here. I know this will be a great course. -- Tom Kealey

In a brand-new series of Bay Area writing classes, Kristen Tracy and Nina LaCour will teach you how to craft and publish a marketable teen novel. Together they have sold eleven novels to Simon & Schuster, Random House, Disney-Hyperion, and Penguin. They'll share their own strategies for writing and revision, and help you analyze critically and commercially successful teen novels. www.writeteen.com Nina and Kristen are both experienced teachers, who have lectured and led workshops about writing throughout the country. You can find them at twitter.com/writeteen and facebook.com/writeteen.

Between Residencies: Workshop, Critiquing, and Reading

It's taken me awhile to post this because I've been busy, doing...well, all of the above. And a comment on an older Low-Residency post reminded me that I was going to fill you all in on what happens after the low-residency residency.

For Queens, we have a submission schedule for our pieces and our critiques for our small workshop groups. We've also recently received our May residency reading list, from which we choose two works to write response papers.  At a casual glance of the pile o' books on my coffee table, there's about a dozen.

It's a mixed bag of genres - fiction (novels and short stories) poetry, critical theory, and non-fiction, plus 2 movies and online screenplays - because we're required to read for our craft, plus for additional seminars outside of chosen genre. So far, I've read 1 1/2 novels -- and need to really pick up the pace by the end of March.

Last week, March 1st, I made my second short story submission to my small group via email. Likewise, my group members did the same. Tomorrow, March 8th, our critiques of our group/pods are due.

I've spent the last week reading through the pieces. The first read is casual, where I noted general first impressions (great scene! love the imagery! or this confused me! -- at specific points) The second read, I'm a bit more critical, looking to see where things need a little work. Again, I make notes (using Track Changes). Tonight - after one more read through and pushing toward tomorrow's deadline - I'll write a 300 - 500 critical response to each group member's submission. They will do the same for me and email them. Next week, we receive our response from our professor/mentor/instructor.

Then April 1, it's time for a brand new submission - either a short story or chapter (for us fiction folks). Generally,  this isn't the time to re-submit revisions, unless there is a huge, major change and something that's been discussed with the instructor. The goal is to write something new for each emailed submission.

At the end of May, we return to Charlotte for our next residency. By then, I will have completed two response papers based on this semesters readings, and will bring two new un-submitted pieces for large and small group workshops. I should have also read and viewed everything on the list, to be prepared for seminars for each topic.

The question from the previous comment was whether I felt that critique responses take away from writing and reading time. Well, yes. But so does going to the grocery store, or going to my day job, or spending an inordinate amount of time on Twitter :-)  I chose Queens because of the workshop format and because I believe that the critique process is important.  I think there are other posts here about balancing out critiques -- taking what is useful, what you need from them, incorporating what works for you. And when you critique, to be polite and professional. (Queens gives students a detailed handbook about the workshop/critique process). The goal is to help everyone improve their craft.

Northerners Available for Pre-Order! ($10)

I hope y'all will indulge me for just a moment, as I'm very excited to learn that my second collection of poetry, Northerners, has just been reduced to $10 on Amazon.com for pre-ordering! The book will be released in a few weeks, but you can pre-order it now for this special price. I hope you'll give it a look!