Here We Go Again: Can Creative Writing Be Taught? (Especially at BYU??)
A few weeks ago my summer fiction issue of The New Yorker came in the mail, and among all the (ahem) “New Yorker Style Stories,” I found Louis Menard’s essay “Show or Tell,” an extended rumination on American creative writing programs and a review of Marc McGurl’s new book, The Program Era: Postwar Fiction and the Rise of Creative Writing.
My first response to the article was “Can Creative Writing Be Taught” exhaustion. As a person with an MFA who also teaches creative writing, not only does the whole argument make me a little weary—this again??—but I’ll admit to a bit of defensiveness, too. The legitimacy of my undergrad major in English Lit was never called into question, and my decision to try and teach a bunch of squirmy, distracted, hormonal fifteen-year-olds how to read, understand, and talk intelligently about the symbolism in The Lord of the Files was deemed an appropriate enough use of my time.
Little did I know that choosing an academic system that purports to teach folks about reading (or literary devices, or rhetoric, or expository writing) was an entirely laudable choice, if low-paying. But choosing an academic system that purports to teach others about creative writing? Waste of time! Ridiculous! A fool’s errand! Or (worst of all) downright dangerous! Didn’t I know that I was contributing to the very downfall of American letters, homogenizing the voice of the masses?
Okay, so I’m engaging in a bit of hyperbole (and if you were listening in the 10th Grade English class I used to teach, you know what that word means). And I do understand why creative writing, with an emphasis on the “creative,” is a much trickier subject to teach than, say, English grammar. As a product of the creative writing system, I agree that much of what makes a writer great–insight, inspiration, and yes, creativity itself–can’t really be “taught.” But I also know that my own MFA experience DID teach me many, many valuable things: basic elements of craft; how to read like a writer; how to revise effectively; how to give (and take) editorial feedback. These are all academically sound outcomes, in my opinion—outcomes born of a heckofa lot of hard academic work.
Which is why the initially snarky feel of Menard’s essay bugged me. His first sentence establishes a kind of roll-your-eyes, get-a-load-of-these-guys tone:
Creative-writing programs are designed on the theory that students who have never published a poem can teach other students who have never published a poem how to write a publishable poem.
First off, I suppose he’s describing the traditional “workshop” setting here, but many (most?) creative writing courses and programs don’t rely on the workshop alone. I know mine didn’t. Mine involved reading—lots of reading, both good literature and dense texts on theory and craft—as well as instruction by qualified professors, writing critical papers, and a truckload of creative writing (obviously?). Workshopping was a part of the experience, yes, but to reduce a creative writing degree program to Menard’s dismissive initial sentence is pretty misleading.
But, yes, workshopping is one important aspect of an MFA, and it can be hit or miss. In some classes (both courses I’ve participated and in courses I’ve taught) the intellectual energy in a workshop is downright electric. It seems to me the point of getting an education in a room full of other people, rather than sitting alone in front of a computer, is to participate in that energy. There’s no better classroom experience than when your instructor and fellow classmates are engaged and smart and thoughtful, and you get the opportunity to learn as both a giver and receiver of critical feedback. Workshops offer students the chance to experience this in ways that lecture-based classrooms can’t approach.
Some workshops I’ve participated in have flopped, of course. Often, the teacher’s not very good, or you can be unlucky and land in a class where the participants are bored or disconnected or downright misanthropic, tearing apart your text with a scarcely-contained glee. But can’t all academic programs be described as hit or miss? The courses required to obtain my secondary education certification, for example, were probably 90% miss . . . ah, the torture that was “Theory and Methods of Secondary Education”!!
But enough of my defensiveness. Menard does make some good points in the article, especially when dealing directly with McGurl’s book, which sounds like an interesting read. For example:
[McGurl points out that ] university creative-writing programs don’t isolate writers from the world. On the contrary, university creative-writing courses situate writers in the world that most of their readers inhabit—the world of mass higher education and the white-collar workplace. Sticking writers in a garret would isolate them. Putting them in the ivory tower puts them in touch with real life.
A provocative statement and, in my experience, true. Which makes me wonder what the outcome will be when Brigham Young University starts putting a bunch of would-be writers in the quintessential Mormon Ivory Tower.
Yes, beginning this fall, BYU will be offering an MFA in creative writing. I think a BYU MFA bodes well for the future of Mormon letters, but then again we’ve established that I’m biased. Now I want to know what you think.
How do you feel about a creative writing programs in general? The new MFA in creative writing at BYU in particular? What kind of influence will it have on the next generation of Mormon writing? Positive, negative, or will its presence cause nary a ripple?
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June 22nd, 2009 at 3:30 pm
Those are some great questions. Normally I am averse to MFA writing workshops, except for a select few that seem to actually produce really great writers.
The New Criterion weighed in on the book The Program Era recently also, essentially calling the overall affect of MFAs a Ponzi scheme. Here’s a few randoms thoughts I’ve had recently:
http://tiny.cc/AgfJV
June 22nd, 2009 at 4:10 pm
Interesting post, Dallas. I particularly understand the financial barrier to getting an MFA. And I agree with Keillor in many ways–an MFA is by no means necessary, although in my experience it’s done me (and other writers) more good than harm.
It’s the comment by the New Criterion guy that really gets me, though. To explain the growth of creative writing programs he says, “Inveigling semi-literate dreamers who wish to postpone their entry into adulthood and whose indulgent parents are willing to shell out $30,000 to $40,000 two years running for a piece of paper embossed with the letters MFA is money for jam for cash-strapped universities. Hence the proliferation of the programs. For what do you do with an MFA? Why, you turn around and teach others the art and sullen craft of being an MFA. You write poems and stories whose sole audience, most often, is your peers in the program. The success of the scheme, as Mr. Ponzi understood, requires a constant supply of fresh recruits.”
First off, his comments are dripping with derision. But what really gets me is the same argument could be used against any number of graduate degree programs in the liberal arts whose graduates turn around and start teaching students in their respective fields. I suppose I don’t understand why those whose graduate degrees are in creative writing instead of, say, philosophy, are singled out for special scorn. And what about other MFA programs? Are those who receive MFAs in dance or art or theater equally ridiculous?
And the whole thing about parents “buying” their kids a “piece of paper embossed with the words MFA” after two years? The condescension is particularly infuriating, simply because my graduate experience was quite academically rigorous. The students I teach in my Intro to Creative Writing course often say that they work harder in my class than almost any other course they’ve taken.
I realize these aren’t your words, Dallas. But they irritate me just the same.
And I could be wrong, but I seriously doubt BYU is planning on this MFA (which will be quite small) making any kind of money for the school.
June 22nd, 2009 at 4:24 pm
.
Looks like its in-residence?
June 22nd, 2009 at 4:32 pm
Yes, it’s a traditional on-campus MFA, not one of the low-residency MFAs that have become popular lately.
June 22nd, 2009 at 5:15 pm
Angela, I completely understand your frustration w/ the New Criterion’s comment towards MFAs. Since I have neither been in an MFA or have taught one, I found the comments refreshing, simply because I’ve never heard MFAs criticized in such a manner.
I wouldn’t disagree that MFAs are very rigorous programs that require lots of work. Writing is hard enough, so I can only imagine a graduate degree in creative writing would only be more demanding.
June 22nd, 2009 at 6:26 pm
Creative Writing suffers from the malaise that Composition* does — it is a young-ish discipline without a strong body of theory and tradition supporting it. That doesn’t mean that that won’t happen eventually. Both English Lit and Comp Lit are relatively young disciplines (although they, of course, have their detractors as well).
And the MFA in Creative Writing is an easy target for a very real problem: the over-credentialing of America and the remove of Academia from work (and the remove of office work from real work).
I understand not liking the condescension. In many ways it does appear to be the pot calling the kettle disengaged and superfluous.
On the other hand, I have yet to read a strong counter-argument to the critique that MFAs mainly exist to create MFAs who will go on to teach in other MFA programs and that there has been a ridiculous over-expansion of creative writing programs.
I would also add that the kind of production required to gain tenure in an MFA program shouldn’t be mistaken for what’s required to get tenure in the social sciences and humanities. I love the products of “creative writing,” but I think claiming that writing good fiction, poetry, theater or creative non-fiction is equivalent to the work that faculty in traditional disciplines do (or at least should do — but when they don’t it tends to be for some of the same reasons that MFA programs exist) is to overinflate for the sake of academic respectability rather than . Yes, it takes hard work and craft and hopefully some seriously deep thinking. But it’s a very different end result and mixing it in with the Academy does not often make for a good fit. Of course, I believe the same about some other disciplines as well.
* And Composition suffers even more from the social sciences vs. humanities schools in the field.
June 22nd, 2009 at 6:40 pm
I also have to say that it’s interesting that BYU is willing to start an MFA program but that institutional support of Mormon Literature is lukewarm at best.
It’s hard to see how this is an attempt to capitalize on all those who want to be the next Brandon Sanderson or Shannon Hale. Of course, I could be completely wrong. And if I am, I will be very, very happy about that.
June 22nd, 2009 at 7:11 pm
This might be a simple response to a complicated issue, but I’ll take a whack at it anyway: I got an MFA in creative writing because I wanted to become a better writer.
Period.
I don’t know if that’s a “strong counter-argument” to the critique that MFA programs exist to basically perpetuate themselves, but the idea that the bulk of students involved in MFA programs do it because they’re interested in careers in academia is pretty far from the reality I experienced. As a matter of fact, I would argue that MFAs in creative writing are often blessedly FREE from the kind of jockeying for position in the academic world that have infected other more “mature” traditions, like philosophy or history or even English lit.
Now, perhaps my experience was outside the norm, but the majority of my classmates weren’t interested in becoming academics or even teachers of writing. They wanted to take what they learned in school and apply it in practical ways. They hoped to make a go of succeeding as a writer in the real world. The fact that there are lots of MFA grads teaching writing speaks more to how difficult it is to make a living as a working writer than it does to some insidious plan to make MFA programs a self-perpetuating system.
And as to the “ridiculous over-expansion of creative writing programs,” (as well as the assertion from the New Criteron that MFA programs exist to make money for universities), here’s some interesting info from the New Yorker article:
“By 1975, there were fifteen creative-writing M.F.A. programs in the country. Today, there are a hundred and fifty-three. Creative-writing programs attract students (good for public universities, where enrollment may determine budgets), but, contrary to what many people assume, they are not generally cash cows. Most of the top programs—until recently, Columbia was the major exception—provide fellowship support for all their students, and the classes are tiny. In 2005-06, only four-tenths of one per cent of all master’s degrees awarded were in creative writing.”
I will agree that creative writing programs have definitely increased since 1975. But according to this article, only “four-tenths of one per cent” of all master’s degrees are in creative writing. That hardly seems like a “ridiculous over-expansion” when taken in that context.
And while I also agree that the academic requirements to gain tenure teaching in an MFA program are measured differently than they are in other academic disciplines, my (thoroughly articulate) response to that assertion is . . . so? Seriously. If MFA programs are looking for professors who can teach students how to write, wouldn’t it stand to reason that a successful career as a published author coupled with a demonstrated ability to teach and mentor students is more practically applicable than the ability to do research and/or write academically peer-reviewed articles or present at conferences? (Although many professors in MFA programs DO do those things.)
I realize a lot of this is because MFA programs are young, and people are always suspicious of the new kid, or at least want him to prove his mettle. But William, wouldn’t the fact that most MFA grads actually DO want to work as published writers, instead of aiming merely to reinsert themselves inside the system as academics, make you MORE likely to approve of this particular course of study?
And as to why BYU might have decided to include an MFA, I honestly believe it’s because there are people in the English department who feel it’s worthwhile to teach promising young writers in a more focused and rigorous way than the MA in English with an emphasis in creative writing allowed. (But I’m not speaking with any official institutional knowledge.)
June 22nd, 2009 at 7:48 pm
“But William, wouldn’t the fact that most MFA grads actually DO want to work as published writers, instead of aiming merely to reinsert themselves inside the system as academics, make you MORE likely to approve of this particular course of study?”
Nope. That’s a lot of money and time for what would better done via apprenticeships and short-term writers workshops. The very idea of turning creative work in to a credential seems rather silly. Is anybody going to hire a novelist because he or she has an MFA?
I use the term “ridiculous over-expansion” not because I think those who want the experience or the piece of paper of a creative writing MFA are ridiculous themselves but rather because MFA Programs aren’t created out of need by the hosting institution. They’re created because the institution knows they can fill seats and dangle out the vague hope of publication or teaching. In this way, they are a lot like Executive MBA programs.
Which isn’t to say there aren’t serious issues with the other academic disciplines as well.
June 23rd, 2009 at 6:16 am
If the question is: “Can creative writing be taught?” then my answer is, “No, it can’t.”
“Can creative writing be taught?” is the wrong question. The question should be: “Can you teach a bunch of people who can write how to write in such a way so that they can do it for a living?”
Writing (Wm’s “composition”) can be taught with average results for a cross section of students who must use the tools across the strata of coursework that requires a modicum of writing skill.
Creative can’t be taught. A decent technical writer can learn tricks and tools to spark creativity, but to be able to carry that forth throughout a work, whether it be a poem to editable (and post editable) stage to a short story to a novella to a novel to a series.
But first you have to have an idea–which doesn’t account for all the people who have ideas who are not technically adept and never will be.
And then you have to have structure for the idea.
And then you have to relay that idea in an engaging yet technically competent manner.
And then you have to learn how, say, novel publishing works.
And then you have to learn how to write a query letter to find an agent.
And then you have to learn how to take rejection.
And then you have to learn why, if your work is good, it got rejected anyway.
And then you have to come to grips with the fact that great art very often doesn’t sell, but good storytelling does.
And then you have to start making some decisions about what you want to do for a living.
Let’s hope you haven’t let go of your day job, ’cause it’s going to be a long haul.
June 23rd, 2009 at 8:14 am
William, I can see what you’re saying. But I still wonder how you *know* writers workshops and/or apprenticeships would work better than MFAs. There’s the financial consideration, yes–and I do understand that. But as far as time is concerned, I think the craft of writing is just as worthy of deep study as any other academic subject. I suppose that’s where the waters get muddy: *is* creative writing an academic subject? The fact that creative writing degrees purport to teach people how to actually DO something rather than learn about that something, like other liberal arts degrees, makes it an uncomfortable cousin to other “purer” academic subjects, like political science or comparative literature.
And as Moriah has pointed out, when an MFA purports to teach a student how to go out in the world and “do” something, there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to really make a living at it in the same way as somebody with a Master’s in accounting or social work can do. So the MFA’s an uncomfortable cousin to those degree programs that are more practically career-related, too.
But I guess I feel like it’s okay for the MFA to float around between those two worlds. I said above that I decided to get an MFA because I wanted to be a better writer, but I need to add to that a little. I also wanted to learn *about* writing in an academic sense. Study it. So, to me, the study of the art of writing seems a legitimate academic pursuit, but I can see how some might be suspicious of that idea. And I also think an MFA can help good writers become REALLY good writers and increase their chances of actually making a living in the field, but there’s no guarantee there, either.
June 23rd, 2009 at 6:21 pm
“Creative can’t be taught.” I compleatly and ardently disagree with this statement as presented. Jovan makes it seam as though you either are creative or you arn’t and thems the breaks.
EVERYONE is born a creative soul. Every child pretends, explores, colors, sings, dances . . . plays. I read a quote recently that basicaly said that every human is born a poet – an artist and that this artist dies young and is “servived” by and adult. That is to say we kill off the creative child and replace them with a grown-up.
I beleave that creativity can be resurected by programs like this MFA. Does using an MFA program to tap into that Godly quailty of creativity mean you’ll succed? No. For some this may hinder their creative recovery. For some there are writters groups or any number of books for guidence. Maybe just reading more helps. There is no one size fits all.
Either way a person can be taught to be creative by being taught how to reconnect with the creative soul they have; to express it, polish it, promote it, ect. given the right tools and techniques anyone can write/paint.
Now, at BYU is a tough one for me. I do not think that there is academic freedome at BYU. Does this traslate into stunted creativity in the MFA program? Possible. If someone feals drawn to writting something dark or “harsh reality” it may be seen as “disterbing” to peers or profs which may get pulled into “honor code” hell. Or they may fear this hell and never explore that part of themselves and there writting – thus stunting thier creative range. However, I think that most people who choose BYU in the first place are more likely to write in more sanatized realms. They will be filtering thier cretivity through “church approved” or “good Mormon” filters. I personaly feel this is why S. Meyer’s plots fall apart. She couldn’t let go of the Mormon culteral view and be true to the charicters and situations.
I do hope that those students who choose BYU and the MFA there will take the tools and then be true to themselves and thier creative voice without fear.
June 23rd, 2009 at 6:27 pm
I want to add that my practical MLIS hasn’t landed me a job in a library (how I wish I had gotten an MFA) and my brothers PHD in history hasn’t landed him a tenured position and my husband’s Chem. degrees didn’t get him a job in a lab. Just because a degree is more “Practical” doesn’t guarantee success in that field either. Why do you think so many people are unhappy, have mid-life crises and go back to school.
** Please forgive spelling issues I’m dyslexic and it’s a bad day **
June 24th, 2009 at 6:34 am
Robin, I agree that a person can be taught to better tap in to his or her innate creativity. I suppose the nebulous part of the question is whether or not *creative writing* fits as an expression of an individual’s essentially creative nature. Some people express their creativity through dance, some through building things, some through gardening, etc. Just as I’m not a good dancer by nature (no matter how much I’d love to be one), others aren’t essentially good writers. There’s that spark of talent that simply can’t be taught. I’d also argue that some people have a much harder time connecting with their creative natures than others do, no matter the mode of expression.
But when it comes to MFA programs (as opposed to a stand-alone intro to creative writing class that anyone can take–and that anyone *should* be able to take), one would hope that the “spark of talent” question is answered by only accepting those whose writing sample shows significant promise.
And as far as being able to express oneself creatively at BYU, I do understand your hesitation, but I’ve seen firsthand a great deal of creativity in the Intro to Creative Writing classes I teach at BYU’s Salt Lake Center.
June 24th, 2009 at 9:09 am
Um, I’m not SEEMING to. I’m SAYING it.
I’m creative. My mother isn’t. No matter how hard she tries, she will never be able to create anything.
No matter how much training I have, I will never be able to draw or paint. I will not be able to sing or dance.
The fact of the matter is, not *everyone* does, in fact, have the ability to create, which is to mankind’s benefit. My mother is an awesome accountant; never misses a detail. Where would we as a society without people like her?
It’s not the end of the world to say, “Not everybody can be taught X if the talent isn’t there.” At some point, this argument spirals out to delusions-of-grandeur territory.
June 24th, 2009 at 10:35 am
A friend once asked me if she should invest in a creative writing degree. I told her that if the only thing she was interested in was learning to write, then if buying herself a groovy new computer, a top-tier ergonomic office chair, and a theater-quality sound system would motivate her to write for hours a day for the next three years, she should probably do it. Because the most important thing an MFA program offers, in my opinion, is the motivation to write. You get some of your 10,000 hours of practice in.
However, if networking is important to you, an MFA program can be a lot of help. Your fellow students may end up in places where they can give you a hand up. You might be able to do the same for them.
For me, personally, my MFA was a turning point in life. Probably because I leveraged every iota of my time. A lot of the students there were single and seemed to see the degree as something to do while not drinking. I, on the other hand, had two children who were growing up fast. I needed to either make this degree functional, or admit that I wasted three years of my family’s life. So I worked my little can off, and learned out the wazoo. It was great.
June 24th, 2009 at 12:54 pm
As someone with a BA in English with a creative writing emphasis from BYU, I think it’s great that the school is introducing an MFA in creative writing, and I agree with the author that most would pursue such a program to become a better writer, not to enter academia. I know many who considered the U of U’s MFA program because it existed and was somewhat reputable.
While BYU is certainly known for its censorship and lack of support for liberal thought, I did not find this to be an issue in the Humanities. I graduated before the September Six purge, so I don’t know how much that has changed the environment (although from what I can tell most of the students today don’t even know what that was). When I was there, many of the lit and creative writing professors rotated through from outside the church. I never felt I was asked to tone anything down.
For all that, I ended up in corporate America. Go figure!
June 24th, 2009 at 2:11 pm
I am of two minds on this one.
I seriously considered pursuing an MFA. I would have loved the intensive reading/writing/workshopping. I have no doubts about the rigor of these programs. And if I came into some serious money tomorrow (I hope you are reading this my future patron! I have been waiting for your call …), I would consider putting my law practice on hold to pursue an MFA and a Ph.d in creative writing. I don’t believe taking this course would be necessary (or even ideal) for me to become a better/more successful writer. But it would give me three things: (1) necessary credentials to tap into a system that provides steady employment to full time “people of letters,” (2) a respectable structure in which huge blocks of time spent reading and writing fiction is classified as “work,” and (3) publishing connections/political ties not available to writers working outside of the MFA creative-writing cartel.
On the other hand, my reservations include:
(1) Not only are academic creative writing programs incapable of teaching insight/creativity, but I believe they may have the opposite effect (e.g., privileging and enforcing arbitrary style conventions, homogenizing narrative art, etc., etc.). And what MFA programs do well is available outside of the system. And free! I can force myself to write every day. I can force myself to read a lot. I can read writing guides from John Gardiner to Aristotle to Robert McKee and beyond. I can get critiquing/editing experiences from friends and publication opportunities.
(2) Academia can suck. It is not the real world. Really. Thus, it is a relatively poor source for material. Academic politics can also be brutal. And the glut of English/Creative Writing Ph.ds means that compensation is generally poor, applicants for MFA jobs have little power over where they live, and etc.
(3) There is something troubling about academic creative writing programs when viewed on a big-picture, social utility basis. There is an argument to be made that the wealth and effort invested in academic creative writing does not pay for itself. Sure, excellent writers come out of these programs. Yet, over the history of Western Civilization, most excellent writers are not products of MFA programs. Should society pay for a bloated academic system that can only claim to produce literature that would likely get written anyway?
(4) Academic creative writing programs also seem troubling viewed on the individual level. I don’t like the Ponzi Scheme metaphor because the vast majority of MFA students, who will never become significant or successful writers, aren’t victims of fraud. Instead, they are gamblers–people playing the slots or the lottery. The odds are against them (and they should know it!), but they willingly pour time, money, and lost opportunities into the system. Who benefits? The faculty and the very best students.
June 24th, 2009 at 3:04 pm
First of Ms.Jovan I was trying to be polite, but since you don’t mind the frankness . . .Your mother created and raised you and I can’t help but feel sorry that her daughter cannot see any creativity in her (creative accounting aside). She may not be a famous or career artist, but I’m sure she does have creative talent in some way (cooking, gardening, interior design, music. Music is VERY mathematical and can be easily learned if one wants to. My sister-in-law is an accountant who makes the most amazing cakes. She’s meticulous in the decorating department. Einstien was a patton cleark who thought about math/pysics creativly and changed the world. Carol Berg (an author I like) is a computer programer.
Perhaps the problem in in how some define creativity. I for one define it as a desire to bring onto being something that hasn’t existed in quite that way before. Be that an interpretation of the Moonlight Sonata. a 6′X6′ painting or a Bonsai tree. Creativity is possibilities.
If there are those out there who think they can’t be creative in ANY way than try reading the book “the Artists Way” To say that someone can never be creative is to say they can never be like God, which is against everything the LDS church teaches (see N. A. Maxwell’s essay “Start making Chips”). You may not think you can be creative, but that’s nonsense. It just takes practice.
Now the MFA is a whole new level of artistic dedication and I agree that a MFA is a refiners fire for those who already are dedicated to writing though it is not the only way.
Additionally, I’ll admit that the creative censorship that I know of at BYU is in the Art Department. I know a number of people who left BYU to pursue their art elsewhere for censorship or creative differences reasons. I do hope the the MFA in writing is allowed to be an open creative place.
June 24th, 2009 at 3:06 pm
er that’s Physics *boggle that I missed that*
June 24th, 2009 at 5:36 pm
Gosh, step away from the computer the red brick store for a few days and a fight breaks out.
I am in the camp that thinks creative writing can be taught, but I don’t think creative writing can be taught to people who don’t have an originating talent. Given that talent for words, anyone can be helped to improve. But that’s the crux of it. I don’t think the word to define is “creative,” but “teaching.” I’m in the school that asserts that no one really learns anything from anyone. Real learning comes through personal experience. You can tell me and tell me something, but until I experience it, apply it, etc., it isn’t really learned. So it is w. writing. We can yap about how to do it until the cows come home, but no one really learns until they act on what they hear. So its the acting on that is the learning process, not the teaching. I believe we can guide one another to better writing (teach it), but that you only really become a better writer by doing. So sure, teach it. That teaching can direct the writer to put ideas into practice and from that practice, he/she will become better.
I’m thrilled that BYU will have an MFA for writers. This was news to me.
June 25th, 2009 at 6:17 am
You know, I DO get the metaphor and simile and hyperbole and symbolism and whatnot.
It doesn’t take a genius to make a baby, and my mother still can’t spin art out of whole cloth. Really, you need not be sad on my or my mother’s behalf.
I repeat: There are a lot of people in this world who can’t and it’s GOOD that they can’t. They have other talents. Peace exists in one’s soul when one recognizes the talents that one has and DOES THAT instead of wishing and pining over what talents one doesn’t have.
I have faith that there’s lots of room in the Celestial Kingdom for mathematicians and accountants and lawyers and philosophers to do what they do without needing to be creative, and I hope they’re there because I need those kinds of people to help prop me up when I get lost in my head for days at a time.
My husband does NOT have a creative bone in his body but what he does allows me to do what I do. It’s the whole wind-beneath-my-wings cliche come to life. And I have NEVER said it was BAD that someone isn’t creative.
June 25th, 2009 at 11:17 am
Stephen, I think one of the greatest boons of an MFA is TIME. I was able to be unapologetically focused on my writing (and yeah, yeah, we can all be “unapologetically focused” if we’re brave enough in defending our choices), but having an MFA to work toward made writing a priority in my life in a way that nothing else had before. And anyone serious about learning a craft needs time most of all. I agree with Lisa that the learning’s in the doing, and the MFA gave me time and space for that doing. Networking was a big benefit, too, in that I was able to have mentors I wouldn’t have otherwise come to know. (Although as far as networking goes, the AML has been a huge benefit to me too.)
And hawkgirl, I agree that BYU’s MFA will offer Utah writers seeking that particular degree more choice. Although the U of U’s MFA is really good, it isn’t the right fit for everybody. I’m excited to see what BYU’s program produces.
And Shawn, you make some really good points. As far as an MFA being a “gamble,” though, so many worthwhile endeavors don’t offer a guaranteed outcome. Seeking to be a published writer is itself an incredibly precarious choice. Although you don’t have to invest a whole lot of *money* into writing (like you would an MFA), you’re still investing tons of time and creative energy and there’s no guarantee at all public success will come of it. I would also argue that even if I hadn’t found a part-time teaching job or had some (small) literary success after my MFA, I still would have found the experience more worthwhile than almost anything else I’ve done in my life. Of course, that’s my own personal experience, but my MFA was worth every penny. (And as to point number three . . . society didn’t pay for my MFA. I did.
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Robin and Moriah, I think part of the problem is Robin has a pretty broad definition of “creativity,” and Moriah’s is more narrow. While I agree with Robin that all of us have the potential to be “creative” in the broad sense of the word–even if that creativity is expressed in, say, coming up with ingenious new ways to organize one’s closet–I also agree with Moriah, especially when we narrow the definition to “artistic creativity.” Just as I’ll never be an athlete, some people will never be artists. And that’s okay.
June 25th, 2009 at 11:17 pm
[...] I hear tell that BYU is starting an MFA in Creative Writing. My only real wonderment is why it took so long. [...]
July 6th, 2009 at 12:19 pm
I’m very curious to see how BYU’s MFA is different from its MA w/creative writing emphasis, which I completed back in ’98.
I really enjoyed my BYU experience, but not so much the actual creative writing track. For one thing, at that time they lumped all kinds of creative writers into one workshop, which made only a little more sense than lumping those learning French, Spanish, and Chinese into one class. For another, the theory courses were very ambiguous and ethereal and academic and didn’t provide any practical training for a creative writer. The emphasis seemed to be more on preparing me for a PhD program, since the MA is not a terminal degree. I did like some of the workshop experience, but the professor never said anything, so it did seem like students teaching students. My favorite class of the whole degree was the Mo lit reading class I took from Eugene England.
My BYU MA gave me some great things. It turned me on to Mormon literature, the AML, etc. which have continued as abiding interests in my life. And it was through the MA program that I got an (extremely boring) summer internship in the LDS Church’s curriculum dept. which then directly led to a less-boring full-time stint at the Ensign magazine and a subsequent reasonably well paid career in corporate marketing communications. However, as far as preparing me to become an actual published creative writer, the program did less for me than two years of participating in a good writer’s group and studying books and magazines put out by the likes of Writers Digest would have done.
While I can see benefits to MA and MFA programs, I come down on the side of thinking it’s too often all just a big pipe dream for the students. It’s a lot like the multilevel marketing industry in which I work: everyone wants to launch their own successful home-based biz and make money, but fewer than 1% actually make it. If a program in law or dentistry had those job-placement odds, it would fail. So I think MFA programs should be a lot more realistic and should include a lot more practical emphasis on carving out a workable writing life. I almost wonder if most creative writing degrees should possibly be simply a tag-on minor to some real vocational degree, meaning one with reasonable odds for providing a lifetime remunerative career.
July 14th, 2009 at 9:14 am
I just found this blog today, and just wanted to give a testimonial that, although I’ve done nothing with BYU’s MFA, I have taken four creative writing classes at BYU in the past year, which have been anything but stunting/overly-censored. While yes, BYU is somewhat censored, the creative writing teachers have been nothing but practical and supportive, and help to understand what it means to be true to your story, even if that means using crass language or dealing with questionable morals. I have even seen them concerned if a student backs away from something they should be pursuing simply because of its moral standing. It depends on any given class how students respond, but even if they were shocked, I always found it a relief to see that kind of a reaction as well – to know what effect my writing could potentially have on a variety of people. I have never felt my creativity threatened by any censor. Except, perhaps, an anti-religion censor. Largely pushed by students themselves, it seems like a kind of shame of being religious that has sprung up on campus, and pushes students to be more accepting than they really need to be of various worldly ideas. I’ve felt completely free to write about any body part, any crass character, violence, sexuality, etc. What I’ve felt hesitant to write about is prayer, love, marriage, any religious character, etc. I’d say that censor is more stunting than any other because it is more subtle, and harder to rebel against. But I think the creative writing teachers are up to the task.
Interesting thoughts that have been brought up here! I hope BYU’s MFA is a success.
January 5th, 2012 at 12:05 am
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