Reading at San Francisco’s LitQuake this Saturday, MFA programs

It’s a few weeks before I move, and I’m doing a final reading or two in San Francisco (part of the LitQuake’s Saturday night LitCrawl) if you want to come see me before I flee back to the rainy Northwest. Here’s where you can find me:

Saturday, October 9
Jeannine Hall Gailey
Litquake’s LitCrawl
Adobe Books with Small Desk Press
3166 16th Street, San Francisco, CA
6 PM free

Saturday, October 9
Jeannine Hall Gailey
Muddy’s Coffee House with Fourteen Hills
Valencia & 24th Street
San Francisco, CA
8:30 PM free

Don’t be late – I think I’m reading first!

There has been a lot of discussion (like this article and commentary at The Rumpus and the scandal over a Columbia MFA program’s adjunct professor’s e-mail and this round-up) about MFA programs – if they’re a scam, if they’re any use, if they can make you a good writer, etc. I do know this: they give you time to practice reading and practice writing with people who probably know a lot about both topics. Unless you have access to the aforementioned writing mentors I discussed in the last blog post, it’s probably worthwhile for you, if you want to become a writer, to go to an MFA program to work with other writers to get better. I don’t think you can pay money to “become a writer” – you probably either have a knack/desire for that or you don’t – and they can’t make a dull writer exciting, but on the other side, I don’t think they make exciting writers dull.
In case you’re interested, here’s a little of my personal history with the MFA: I got a full-residential traditional MA (full of lit crit and competitive workshops and professors who didn’t really hang out with students) before getting my low-residency MFA (which was warm and collegial, and the professors did hang out with students. It didn’t have much in the way of lit crit going on but the students were pretty nice to each other.) I appreciate the experiences I had at both programs, but I was definitely more encouraged and grew more as a writer at the MFA. A lot of people talk about funding, too. My MA was fully funded but my low-res MFA, like most low-res programs, was not. I think the MFA was worth the cost (roughly, my friend Kelli always says, equivalent to a used Camry) even though it means student loan payments. Honestly, I think throwing myself into writing full-time – after ten or eleven years of trying to write while working full-time corporate jobs – was really important to me getting anything published (my first book was accepted in the middle of the MFA program, and I wrote my second book while in the second year.) Taking a risk – even a financial risk – was important. I don’t think I really took writing seriously in my life until that time. So it was worth it for me.
Now I teach a little part-time in an MFA program too, and I work really hard to give worthwhile reading suggestions, help students with their work, even give them publication tips when I can. I do it because I care about the students, because I care about poetry, because believe me, I wouldn’t do it for the paycheck (the average adjunct professor is paid worse than a retail worker – and I know, because I put myself through college working retail.)
So all in all, I think the MFA might help you and it probably won’t hurt you. Unless you go to the wrong one, where they’re all mean and discouraging. Also, despite Seth A’s – and many other’s – advice, funding isn’t everything. Make sure the program you’re going to actually cares about you and your writing. Make sure it’s the kind of environment – competitive or nurturing, academically stringent or more relaxed, Midwestern-reserved or West Coast optimistic – that’s right for you. Try to do some research before you apply, talk to alumni – possibly the best way to get a feel for a program is to talk to a couple of alumni and a faculty member if you can.

Also read The Poetry Lesson by Andrei Codrescu, which was much funnier and more satirical than “All is Forgotten, Nothing is Lost.” It’s more experimental writing as well. I did not feel depressed after reading it, which is always a bonus.