As someone who received the MFA almost 10 years ago, I think I can say that it was different in the “good ‘ole days.” When I thought of the MFA, even only ten years ago, it was still something people raised their eyebrows at: “Creative Writing? And what will you do with that?”
At that time there were roughly 60 MFA programs in the country, but that number has doubled in the last ten years . My Creative Writing Program was a three-year program, with the requisite workshop courses to get critical feedback from my peers, as well as a heavy dose of literature and theoretical critique, along with multiple multi-genre courses. The thesis was creative, but the degree examinations were all literary theory and application, with a required and lengthy series of critical papers.
Now, I didn’t really know what I was doing, what I would do with a degree in Creative Writing, or what it would offer me. Yep, I’m one of those people–the one who said to herself, “Kirsten, where’s the farthest you can go for as little cash as possible?” I never thought about how to get published or how to get a book deal or any of that stuff, but it seems that publishing, and not good writing, are among the top ten questions that writers ask, not “how do I become a better writer.”
Despite all of the hoopla about MFA programs, I loved my program and defend it as one that prepared me not only for a career teaching composition, literature and creative writing, should that be my desire, but a program that taught me how to say out loud: I am a writer. Even though there was a year there where I worried about becoming a voice just like everyone else’s, mostly I was able to read widely and to experiment with my own writing–things difficult to make time for without discipline and the rigors of an academic program.
Most people won’t tell you that it doesn’t matter how famous the teachers are in your program; what matters when you get an MFA is your class of fellow MFA’ers–the other people in your program who will be giving you critical feedback on your work. If they’rea bunch of self-absorbed dopes, you may be in for a rough ride. Luckily, the group of people I studied with over those three years were completely responsible for keeping mesane and focused as a writer at a time when I could be easily distracted.
In the last ten years, however, MFA programs (and BA/BFA Programs) have blossomed everywhere, with online MFA programs leading the pack, and less and less programs giving writers the opportunity to explore multiple genres or mixed-genre writing, or the opportunity to spend time learning how to be critical and discerning readers as well as excellent writers. These days it seems like people focus on the school’s reputation and not the work they’ll produce there. In fact, most MFAers become teachers of other MFAers even if they select a school with a “good reputation” of publishing its graduates. Add to this the new mix of Phds with Creative Dissertations. These programs are just beginning to multiply, but they signal a shift in the Studio-Art degree; many MFAers are going on to get Phds in Creative Writing, which may ultimately usurp the MFA as the terminal degree.
The real question, then, is why go get an MFA or a Phd in creative writing at all? There are certainly less and less job prospects, and the “publish or perish” world is as challenging as ever. The answer, then, should have less to do with job or publishing prospects, and more to do with that deep-gut stuff: the need’s gotta be deep.