Things I Wish I’d Known When I Graduated from My MFA Program
Isla McKetta reflects on life as a writer in the post-MFA world
One way to discover the value of your degree is to say, “Yes!” when people ask you for your time. It’s fine (and important) to set aside time for self care, but saying, “Yes!” shows people you’re interested and allows you to try out all kinds of opportunities.
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Things I Wish I’d Known When I Graduated from Goddard*
by Isla McKetta
It seems like ages ago that I graduated from Goddard’s MFA program in creative writing at Port Townsend. It was the summer of 2010, but I still remember the rush of holding that diploma in my hand. My classmates and I were ready to take on the literary world.
Or so we thought.
It’s been a great decade and a half and I’ve never been sorry that I committed to the degree or to Goddard, but here are a few things I wish I’d known when (or maybe even before) I graduated.
You Might Feel Sad—for a While
The residency and MFA experience are pretty intense. For me it was the first time I was surrounded by so many people who cared about all the things I do, and it was always a little hard to go home at the end of each residency. But I wasn’t ready for the experiment to end or what that really meant. I’ve talked to a lot of graduates and the post-graduation blues are real.
I was lucky because I graduated with a close group of friends (Ann Hedreen, Liz Howard Rado, Priya Keefe, and Natasha Oliver) who all lived in the Seattle area and we could commiserate about the almost post-partum feeling of having graduated.
The feeling will pass as you get involved in new adventures and sink back into your work; I just want you to know that if it happens to you, you aren’t alone.
Your literary community may change over time (in my case, giving birth to a child then walling myself in my house during a global pandemic put small dampers on things, plus life spun many of my local writer friends off to new states), so don’t forget to keep open to new connections. Pop into a reading for a local writer you’ve always wanted to support. You know how much this means to you; it’s a great way to make new friends. Or take a class or show up at a local write-in. Heck, plan a local write-in.
You Have the Power to Impress Yourself
The constant feedback of an MFA program can be as addictive as it is challenging as you’re honing the writer you want to be. Part of the letdown a lot of people experience after graduation is from not understanding that it’s now your job to feed your ego. There are challeges, yes, and if you need to take a break from submitting because you got four rejections on New Years Day and that’s not how you wanted to start the year (ask me how I know), take the break. But no one is coming for you and your genius (if I’m wrong, enjoy that!).
Look for opportunities that excite you that you thought you’d never be able to do. That’s how I ended up reviewing books for Kirkus. Turn that moment of jealousy over a friend’s success (it’s normal, you’re not a monster) into a realization that maybe you should try for something similar (this is how I got on Substack). Apply for the fancy residency (especially if the submittal fee is achievable). Then apply for the less fancy residency, because any time you can get is a gift.
There’s a fine balance between reaching for the stars and knowing how much rejection you can handle (especially since rejections won’t come on your timeline), but don’t let fear of rejection keep you from being brave (read Art and Fear if you haven’t already).
It’s Important to Say Yes (to Everything You Reasonably Can)
One of the ways you’ll discover the value of your degree is to say, “Yes!” when people ask you for your time. It’s fine (and important) to set aside time for self care, but saying yes shows people you’re interested and allows you to try out all kinds of opportunities.
By saying, “Yes!” when my friend wanted to co-author a book on creative writing, I received my first publishing contract and later published Clear Out the Static in Your Attic: A Writer’s Guide for Transforming Artifacts into Art. By saying, “Me!” when another friend asked if I knew anyone who wanted to serve on the boards at Hugo House and later Seattle City of Literature, I earned a new perspective on the literary community and made a ton of connections. And by saying, “Check out my site!” when my cousin asked if I’d be interested in writing for the LA Review of Books, I broadened my resume and impressed myself. And because I said, “I’d love to” when Reiko and Aimee asked, I have the opportunity to share my thoughts with you here.
In return I’ve asked people to collaborate on a panel for AWP, to freelance for an agency I was working for, and to contribute to my blog when it was still new.
I’m so happy that Reiko and Aimee and the faculty of Goddard have pulled together this site. It’s a great opportunity to keep our community alive and to share in the opportunities and successes that can help us all grow and thrive.
Being Published is Only One Goal
Right now being published might seem like the only goal. I get it. Really. And it’s fine to treat it that way until you get the gold star you’re seeking. But keep in the back of your mind somewhere a second (or even third goal), because publication will happen sooner than you think and (unless you are incredibly lucky) it won’t be a perfect experience. Jan Vallone, Ann Hedreen, and I have all faced various levels of disappointment (or even depression) after publishing our first books, because the only goal we could think of was getting that publisher on board.
Other goals you might consider:
A list of lit journals where your goal is to see your work in each of them
A set number of reading dates per year where you’ll share your work with the world
Sending out a certain number of queries or submittals per month
Finding a residency or training that will help you be a more professional artist
Building your literary community through volunteer work
Writing (at least something) every day
I believe you will get published, but I also want you to remember that if publication is your only goal you’re going to run into problems. Beyond the quality of work you produce and the number of queries you send out, you have no control over when you get published. And once they’ve said yes, I want you to have something else to look forward to and to reward yourself for.
Your Book isn’t Done
If you’re nearing the end of your program, you’ve heard this more than once (and likely from more than one person) by now. You might not be ready to hear it. That’s okay, but unless you’re a screenwriter (those blessed individuals who really can complete a project in under a month), your thesis isn’t (yet) ready for publication. It needs revision. It needs perspective. It needs air.
You might feel like you’re done with the project (I mean completely over it) and it’s very okay (even advisable) to put the book in a drawer for a few months (years are fine too!) while you reacclimate to the real world. Then, when you’re ready, pull out that book (or a new project) and get back to work.
Find your (new MFA-toting) self in it. You’ll feel differently about the work once you aren’t in that crazy time crunch anymore, and the writing will be better for the space you’ve given it.
Not Being Ready for Feedback is Different than Disagreeing with it
As you tackle that new revision, you might even find that some of the things people told you along the way sound different now. Aimee Liu told me the final chapter of Polska, 1994 was the ending to a different book. I completely and totally disagreed—until three years later when I was finalizing the book for publication and saw how very right she’d been.
In the early stages of being a writer, we’re in a swirl of trying to figure out who we are, learning to put that self on the page, and then defending it like mad. It is always okay to disagree with feedback, but don’t dismiss it until you understand if you hate it because it’s wrong or you hate it because it’s right.
Writing Will Not Do Itself
One of the major benefits of a low-residency MFA is the ways you learn to integrate your writing life with your daily life. Highly recommend. But, daily life changes over time and writing requires large amounts of focused time, especially if you’re reading a lot (please tell me you are reading a lot, it makes you a better writer).
For a the first 10 years of my son’s life, I’ve arranged to have three free hours on a Saturday morning. It’s not enough, but it’s something, and I keep a little spreadsheet to track how writing felt that day, what in my life might have been affecting it (positives and negatives), numbers of submittals and rejections for the week, and goals for the day/week/month/year. It’s not perfect. I am not perfect. But it’s a system that lets me check in with myself to make sure I’m writing and to understand why not when I haven’t been.
Then I steal any other minutes I can.
Writing Groups are Not Optional
Related, writing friends can be great accountability friends. And, unless you are extremely unusual, you need a second pair of eyes on your work at some point. A writing group will help you with that. A writing group will also help you with building a post-MFA community of likeminded people who will commiserate with you when you get your first rejections, help you find new opportunities, and celebrate with you when you get published (see keeping your community fresh above). Why would you miss out on that?
Your MFA has Value in the Real World (Even if You Don’t Teach)
If you dream of teaching and you find a position, I’m delighted for you, you’re joining the ranks of some fantastic Goddard grads who make it their business to help others write better. From my class alone you’ve got Ann Hedreen, Peter McMinn, Cody Luff, Natasha Oliver, Phil Paddock, and Sidney Williams.
But not everyone wants to teach, and it’s important to remember that the MFA you’ve spent so much time, energy, and money earning has real world value in all of the following ways (and more):
Set up an editing practice (Peter McMinn and Natasha Oliver did, and I’m starting one, too)
Organize a literary festival (like Liza Wolff Francis)
Set up writing retreats (Regina Tingle, Dulcie Witman, and Chelsea Werner-Jatzke all did this)
Become a copywriter, content strategist, or news writer (this is how Nikki Kallio and I support our writing “habits”)
Focus on your craft (Gwendolyn Jerris and Liz Howard Rado do)
The challenge you face is that not everyone out there knows what an MFA is. But they do know what a Master’s Degree is and it’s still an impressive thing you’ve earned. Be prepared to explain how all that work you put in translates to the job at hand and you might be paying back your student loans faster than you ever hoped.
It’s Up to You Now (But You Aren’t Alone)
When you graduate, whether it’s this semester or two years from now, you are stepping out into the wild blue. But that’s a good thing and I’m excited for you. I can’t wait to see what you make of your degree and what new paths you forge.
While that’s a lot of responsibility, you are never alone as long as you stay connected to the community you’re building and will continue to build. Although most of my Seattle classmates have moved away, I exchanged letters for years with Gwendolyn Jerris, Nikki Kallio, and Liza Wolf Francis. I share my writing successes and failures with my once-local Goddard friends when they come back to town. Sometimes I even make it out to a Collections salon.
Though Goddard has closed, I’m lucky to be able to head back out to Fort Worden for a stomp (or two) across the parade ground a couple of times a year. Sometimes just being in that place where we all first met—the place where we named ourselves writers—makes me feel whole.
Happy writing and please keep in touch.
Isla McKetta is the author of Polska, 1994 and co-author of Clear Out the Static in Your Attic: A Writer’s Guide for Turning Artifacts into Art. She earned a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at Goddard College and worked in various capacities for the literary magazines Pitkin Review and Farfelu. Isla lived in Poland and Chile and speaks several languages. She makes her home in Seattle. You can find Isla on Substack and reviewing books at A Geography of Reading. More at islamcketta.com
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*Originally published in The Writer In The World, Jan 28, 2015.
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Fabulous advice! That first year after leaving Goddard was DARK!! Thanks for sharing your wisdom.