I recently emailed the English Department chair at UAF to ask again about my status, since they've been delaying like mad in getting back to me. He gave me the news that I will most likely not be accepted, since the majority of the MFA admissions committee agreed against recommending me for acceptance. The final decision lies with the dean, but since most of the committee turned me down, my chances are pretty much shot. However, he was kind enough to mention that this year's pool of applicants was particularly competitive, and that they had to turn down a lot of qualified candidates (however he failed to mention whether they deemed me one of those 'qualified' candidates--not that it really matters).
This news hurts a lot, seeing as how a lot of my time lately has been spent daydreaming about Alaska and stuff like that. But I always knew, in my head, that the odds against me were tremendous. I knew the chances of me getting in were slim to none. But my head has no control over my heart, and my heart decided to hope. The feeling when I got the news was kind of like how in some movies when, confronted face to face with the bad guy wielding a knife, a good guy knows in his head that he's going to die but he probably hopes his would-be killer would change his mind. This didn't sneak up on me and slit my throat from behind: it's been standing in front of me the whole time, holding the knife, telling me that it may or may not kill me. And now the knife has been thrust, and it struck home.
Yes, I'm incredibly upset. But I'm no starry-eyed fool. Since my head knew so well what would most likely happen, it gave thought to some contingency plans. Fortunately, I'll be able to return to my old summer job at Chautauqua, so I have something of a buffer before needing to get a more secure job. I don't know what will happen after the summer is over. I imagine myself in my own apartment somewhere in western PA (hopefully Pittsburgh), working as a copyeditor or somesuch for a newspaper or magazine. But, we all know how my imaginings tend to turn out, so it's best to ignore that vision. All I can hope for is that I'll have some sort of substantial income to allow me to pay my debts and also live, simultaneously (a tough feat for the modern college graduate, I know).
The thing is, I really wanted to go to Alaska. I've always wanted to go to Alaska. As a nature-loving, sensitive, spiritual, adventurous, outgoing person, Alaska has always had a strange hold over my thoughts. Part of it is just because it's so alien from what I'm used to. I love expanding my horizons, and "different" places have always drawn me in. I think every type of location has some sort of intrinsic beauty: cities and wilderness, deserts and glaciers, etc. Part of that stems from my spiritual beliefs, that God created all of it and so all of it reflects his divine nature somehow, the ultimate reality of which lies beyond our feeble brains, but is still edifying to ponder. The faces of a crowd inching down the streets of New York; a Navajo hunter stopping to watch the sun rise over the desert; wind bending pine branches in a summer storm; all of these things and more hold spiritual and aesthetic significance to me, and I want to experience as wide an array of experiences as possible before I die. I was hoping to add to that list watching ice fog settle over the spruces, experiencing first-hand the Iditarod race and Fairbanks ice festival, writing stories in my apartment or cabin and discussing them with other like-minded artists at UAF.
But don't get me wrong, I never thought this would be easy, or even fun all the time. I knew going to Alaska would be a challenge, possibly the most challenging thing I'd ever done. Moving around 3500 miles away from everyone and everything I've ever known, getting accustomed to the strange and extreme weather patterns, and establishing friends and connections on my own? That all sounds really hard! But that's exactly why I wanted to go. I want a challenge. I don't want the easy and familiar. If I did, I could've applied to safe, traditional places like Penn State or something. But that's not what I want for my life.
Yes I'm upset, but I'm not giving up. I have chosen to go to grad school for an MFA so I can become a better writer and also be able to teach writing at the college level, which is something I really am passionate about. I know I could go somewhere else to get this MFA, and I know wherever I'd go I'd have fun and grow as a person. But Alaska is the place I choose to be, and so I will reapply next year and hope they accept me. I know that it's not because I'm unqualified or something; it's just really competitive, and, I believe, it really comes down to luck. Perhaps I'll retake the GRE and try for higher scores. I'll definitely work on writing samples and my resume. And in the meantime, I'll attempt to obtain employment where I can use my writing skills and continue developing as a writer. And I will continue writing creatively and attempting to get published. I won't let my life stop because of one let down.
Also, as a Christian, I have to sit down and reflect on why God might not be allowing me to go to Fairbanks yet. Perhaps I'm not ready, emotionally or socially, for that kind of move. Perhaps if I did go this year, I'd break down, or get really sick and not know what to do or who to talk to or where to go. Maybe I'd end up getting really bad grades and losing my TAship or something and then be in a whole mess of financial trouble. Or maybe He has something for me after college that will end up being even more beneficial and edifying than grad school. Maybe I could pursue my ideas of the Peace Corps, or at least gain more life experience simply by living more on my own and doing all the things graduated people do. I don't know, I can only hope, and trust.
Also, I need to look at the positives. If I stay in the area for a while, I can still visit my friends who are still in school, and I can reconnect with old friends who still live at home but whom I parted ways with when I left for college. I could get more involved in local arts and culture by joining the community writer's guild, and I could be more involved in my church. Some friends from home are talking about trying to open an art studio, for painters, musicians and writers to get their supplies from and such. Maybe I could help with that. There's always something to do, something new to experience, no matter where I am, and I can take those things into myself and become more fully myself and continuously gain writing material from the real world. I've just got to stay positive.
I'm not giving up on myself or my dreams. I will keep living and not dwell on things. I will try to get into UAF again next year. I will keep writing. I will keep exercising and taking care of myself. I've inherited most of the traits from my mom's side of the family, which is a generally brooding family full of troubled artists struggling with depression, apathy and addiction. When things don't go the way I want, or when bad things happen to me, my first instinct is to stop my personal timeline and basically wallow in fruitless misery like some kind of disgusting old pig whose legs are so weak that it can't even crawl out of the filth it's drowning in. Well, I'm going to fight that and continue with life. Keep writing, keep living, loving, breathing, and everything will be okay. Moving on!
About Me
- PancakePhilosopher
- Pennsylvania, United States
- Facts: Recent graduate of Geneva College where I majored in Writing. I love music almost equally as writing/literature...avid trumpet player, participator in ensembles and whatnot.
4 comments:
I'm sorry to hear about this. It's tough to get that kind of news. I don't know that it helps at all, but most of us go through something like this at some point or at many points in our lives. When I first applied to grad school, a year after I finished my BA, I was rejected everywhere I applied. I didn't apply at all when I was finishing up my BA, but I'm willing to bet that if I had I would not yet have gotten in. It's tough, and particularly so for someone so young.
Again, I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but I think it's incredibly beneficial to try things on your own for a while. Really devote yourself to your skills and work hard to improve. Read widely. Read a bunch of books about writing so you can encounter a lot of the same theories and strategies that an MFA program will expose you to. Keep writing and rewriting. I felt very frustrated going through my initial rounds of applications and rejections because I felt like I had so much potential and in the right program my potential could really flourish. But the tough truth is that MFA admissions committees can't accept everybody who has strong potential because there are far too many of them. Candidates have to go to the next step and have incredibly strong writing samples. I honestly think that the toughest thing about an MFA program is getting in. If you can get accepted in the first place, then you can do the work and earn the degree, but just proving to the committee that you have what it takes is tough.
I was 24 when I was accepted into an MA program and 26 when I got into an MFA program, and I really think it took me that long to develop my skills enough that I was ready. Often I think it might have been good if it had taken even longer.
It's tough, of course, when you've just received the news to find solace in knowing you're not alone in this experience, but it's true that you aren't alone. The real writers are the ones who keep going for it. And taking a break from the academic world is also quite useful. I learned a lot from working in a boring office that I now can use for my stories. I would not have had that experience if I had gone straight to grad school from undergrad.
I think I'm probably repeating the same points here, but I think it's true. From what I've seen of your writing, I think you have that potential. I think you have what it takes to really develop and become an excellent writer and get into an MFA program. But it's possible that won't happen for you for another year or two or three. I can only think of a couple of people in my time in grad school who were twenty-two and fresh from undergrad. Most were in their mid-to-late-twenties; some were in their thirties or forties or fifties. And although it's tough to accept at the time, it really can be worthwhile in the end to do something else for a while and then return to academia.
Thanks Justus! It helps being reminded of these things. You're right about the age thing. I personally don't know anyone, not even any of my extremely gifted profs, who got accepted to grad school right after undergrad.
And I think you're right about trying things on my own. Being in school forever, I've never really been in the real world at all, and the thought of graduating, getting a job, a place of my own, and just living my life actually sounds quite pleasant (pleasant in a stomach-churning, adventurous-feeling way, but still pleasant). I'm shooting for at least some temp work for my local paper, and I'll be going back to my summer job at Chautauqua (endless waterfalls of writing material in that job, every summer) so I have a LITTLE time to search things out.
It mostly hurts not because of the fact of the rejection itself, but the disappointment in not being able to immediately experience the things I'd been wanting to, about the program at UAF and Alaska in general. Yet part of me is strangely thankful, because a little part of me was afraid that I'd be disillusioned upon arrival in Alaska and come to the realization that it's just another place where people live, and all my romantic ideas of it would vanish. I'd like to preserve the dreamworld for a little while more, I think.
Thanks for the affirmation! Lately I'd been going through a "I suck; why do I even bother; am I wasting my life" phase. And I haven't been writing as much because I'm so run down from schoolwork (and the "social" life that is sort of forced upon me. I'm not wired for it, really. For every 2 hours of social fun I feel I need at least 2 days of solitary meditation). And now that I think of it, a year or two living outside academia (a totally new experience for me) might be just the thing to help me get my momentum back.
the "I suck, why do I even bother" phase tends to resurface when things get hard, believe me! You're great at what you do, and this is probably just a timing thing. I'[m sorry you didn't get in, but part of me is glad you'll still be relatively close for a while. Austin would be a great road trip.....
I was 26 when I got into an MFA program, too. I think you actually gain a lot as a writer by going out and doing the real world thing for a while. I like your idea of preserving the dream of Alaska a little longer. You're probably right that it won't be quite like what you thought it would be, and it might be nice to keep it pristine for a little while longer. And if you keep writing in the meantime you'll have an even stronger writing sample next year! A year of really working hard on your writing can make a huge difference, it really can! And you'll probably have some cool experiences worth writing about out in the real world.
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