About Grad School....

Amanda in the comments and Suzanne & Jules by e-mail have asked me if I really meant what I said in the last post, that graduate school is a Purgatory. At the risk of offending any Masters of Fine Arts (MFA) students out there, I thought I'd answer.

Yes, I meant it. But I studied high-energy physics in grad school -- and I think you'd have to dig a bit to find a student of the physical sciences that thought grad school was a good experience. Most of the ones I know lost or gained 40 pounds, or lost all their hair, or had a stroke or something. I imagine an MFA would be a kettle of fish of a different colour. The MFA students I've met seem stressed, but in a sane way -- and happy.

I've looked into getting an MFA myself -- they would open some professional doors for me, and that might make sense. And it would be a chance to hang out with cool people and read huge amounts of books and write full-time for a couple of years, and that would be fabulous. But so far I've decided against pursuing one, for two reasons.

First, the idea of studying critical theory makes me a bit queasy. I mean, all hail you if lit crit is your thing. But it's not mine.

Second, as an editor, I've found a lot of writing coming out of MFA programs has a dreary academic sameness. Not all the writing, but a lot of it. And that only makes sense. I mean, American MFA programs are credentialing, what, maybe 2000 new poets a year? There simply aren't that many strong new voices out there to write the real thing. But there are 2000 new poets with intensive training in producing an approximation of it. And so we are an army of Oz -- all generals and no privates -- all poets and no poetry readers. And in the end, not much getting done.

But that's me. And, as I said, I don't have an MFA, and don't even have a friend who does have one. I'm talking out of my hat. My elitist poetry snob hat, perhaps, but still -- out of my hat.