An MFA is also not about impressing one’s fellow students, or even the faculty.
Cut off from daily life, thrust into long hours in close quarters with other artists, many of them strangers, others new acquaintances–the temptation to impress, or at least win acceptance, is all too human. The same insecurities of grade-school children searching for a seat in the cafeteria also manifests, in only slightly more rarified ways, come lunchtime during residency.
In the end, however, there is a single thought which I use to steady myself in this tide: I am not here to impress any of these people; I am here to become a better writer. Because in becoming a better writer, I will be more likely to impress some people who do matter–editors. That process, however, has nothing to do with lunchtime chat, and everything to do with what comes across on the page.
I do my best to adhere to this thought, even if it is wrong–even if it is, in fact, a brutal, careerist world out there, where attending the right parties is everything. I want to inhabit a world where good writing is paramount, even if that world represents a small, undervalued subsection of contemporary poetry. I have seen the power and significance of a receptive audience of one.
It is important to be generous, kind, and respectful in life–because human beings are precious, no matter how well they write. But whenever I have faced a decision to try to further my career or follow my heart, the latter has always propelled me further faster than any of my petty scheming would allow. So, whatever ambition I have, I try to direct it inward–toward writing rather than networking, toward equanimity rather than allegiances, toward actually getting better rather than simply looking good.
It is about as easy as anything else that involves cutting against the grain of cultural conditioning. But my commitment to getting better is ultimately what got me here, to Oregon, to freeze my butt off and learn.
10 Comments
Sounds sensible. There can be politicking, and bruhahas. Better to take the high road when partisanship cuts both ways. The main thing is to have deeper understanding, clearer vision, clearer communications on the page and off. Used-car saleman relationships aren’t likely to payoff. A support network of people you appreciate and who appreciate you is cream. Get some cream on the side too if your heart can take it.
Wow, Robert, what an excellent entry here. I hear you loud and clear. I appreciate your fearless dedication to the process and to your goals. Stay warm, and while you’re there, be sure to have some fun too.
Hi Layne,
Fun for sure. The warm part I’m still working on.
Cheers,
Robert
Hi Pearl — it is rich and creamy up here indeed.
Lol, you did bring your long-john’s and fleece, didn’t you?
mm, how yummy.
I think you’re bullshitting yourself, Robert. Of course it’s about the poem not the poet, but one of the virtues of a grad program is that it lets you see how good other people are & how far you have to go. I went to Iowa. I know from competition.
Hey Joe,
Maybe I’m just at that point in the residency where my brain is mushy and I can see, like a cubist painting, both sides of just about everything — but it seems to me the line is thin between really bad stuff and potentially great stuff that transcends the revision-by-consensus of workshopping. How the hell do you compete on a playing field where the 100-yard-line is right next to the 10? What does comparison teach you that revision can not? So far, it seems like the biggest ruse distraction around…
Best,
Robert
Robert, sorry for not following up — first week of classes here. There is certainly such a thing as too much competition, but I think poets need to be hard in certain ways, have to be able to take a shot. A good grad program can do that, make you tough. I suppose nobody likes egotism & preening, but I think a certain amount of that goes with the territory–such things are a form of camouflage, perhaps–and frankly I’d rather see a young poet strutting around with a chip on her shoulder than starting an encounter group. Maybe it’s just my generation.
Hey Joe, I certainly agree that getting inspired by others’ work and progress through the program is important and also that nicey-nicey doesn’t lead anywhere. I just think it’s important to remember there is a bigger aim out there for all of us, which is to participate in a larger literary conversation through venues deluged in slush piles. So, the point is to keep an eye on the purpose of the program, to use one another to get better and stronger — and not to carry praise or blame too far.