Название: Before and After the Book Deal
Автор: Courtney Maum
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары
isbn: 9781948226417
isbn:
The list of writers who have managed to get teaching jobs without an MFA degree is short on names, but they all have sterling CVs. The aforementioned author Saïd Sayrafiezadeh—who teaches at Hunter College, Columbia University, and NYU—doesn’t have an MFA (or a BA for that matter), but he was a finalist for the PEN/Robert W. Bingham Prize, publishes on the regular in The New Yorker, has received a Whiting Award as well as a fiction fellowship from the New York Public Library’s Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers, and is on the board of directors for the New York Foundation for the Arts. Author Kathleen Alcott—who has taught at Bennington College, the Center for Fiction, and Columbia University—didn’t attend an MFA program either, but she has three acclaimed books (one of which was a Kirkus Prize nominee), a short story that made the short list for the prestigious Sunday Times Short Story Award, and bylines in household-name outlets like The New York Times and The Guardian.
On the other side of the exceptional, Cara Blue Adams—another writer we just met—has an MFA and a tenure-track teaching job, but she doesn’t have a book. What she does have, however, is a deeply thoughtful background in both publishing and editing, with awards and fellowships to boot. “People tell me they loved my first book,” says Cara, who has published, among other places, in the Kenyon Review, Narrative Magazine, and The Sun. “They also say they had a great time at my wedding, although neither of these events have happened yet.”
In summation, you can get a teaching position without an MFA degree behind you, and you can move up the tenure track without a published book, but you can’t do any of these things if you’re not busting your butt to create great work on the side. This is easier said than done, of course, and you can’t just “decide” to be extraordinary, but what you can do—if you want to circumvent the traditional path to professordom—is acknowledge that you are going to have to work incredibly hard to do so. And then do it: work harder than hard.
Creating (and maintaining) a literary community without an MFA
There are a lot of reasons writers don’t attend an MFA program: they’re categorically opposed to them; they can’t afford them (financially and/or emotionally); they don’t know that they exist.
I was in this latter case. I lived in France for most of my twenties, and by the time I moved back to America and woke up to the fact that most authors had MFA programs in their bios, I felt too old, too married, and too financially unstable to pursue an MFA.
I was, however, longing for a literary community, and it wasn’t initially clear how I could find one outside of an MFA program. I was living in a really rural part of Massachusetts with very few people—much less writing people—around. A serendipitous part-time job offer in New York City gave me the chance to try to find my kinfolk. In order to get as much out of my time in a metropolis as possible, I decided to attend a reading series for each of the four nights that I would be in New York, and to introduce myself—in person—to one stranger at each reading. I did this for four months straight, and although the positive outcomes I experienced were aided by my extraversion, I’m nevertheless convinced that there are solid, actionable, and affordable things you can do to build a literary community without an MFA. Some of these suggestions are free, others require an investment. For the paid options (attending summer conferences or an online writing class), remember to save receipts for tax time so you can deduct these costs as a business expense.
Attend too many reading series
You know the musical expression “playing by ear”? At reading series, you can train your ear to help your writing. Take it from someone who survived a writer’s twenty-two-minute “autofiction” revelation about a particular type of oral servicing he once received on a couch: once you hear someone bomb in front of a microphone, you will do anything—everything—to avoid terrible writing. In-jokes, tangents, potentially offensive content, narrative indulgences—attend a lot of reading series and you will be only too happy to remove these malignancies from your work.
Volunteer as a reader for a literary magazine
Being a reader for literary magazines allows you to keep your finger on the pulse of what people are writing—and not writing—about, and it can be very useful for your creative writing process to be a gatekeeper for a while. Understanding what makes you want to accept or reject a story will inevitably inform the choices you’re making in your own work. Are you trying too hard to be funny? Do you go on tangents? Do your characters do nothing but stare out the window drinking tea? There is just as much to be learned from reading flawed writing as there is from reading polished work, plus you’ll come away with a new respect for the form rejection letter after you’ve been exposed to a bog of misspelled, uniquely formatted submissions from misanthropes and misogynists who are only too proud to tell you that they couldn’t be bothered with your submission guidelines because this attached thirty-five-thousand-word novella about a man without a girlfriend absolutely needs to be in your poetry journal. NOW.
Attend a summer writing program
The cons of these are that they can be prohibitively expensive (it’s nearly four grand to attend the ten-day Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference without a scholarship), competitive to get into, and alcohol fuels a great deal of the socializing, but the pros are that you can get nearly a semester’s worth of contacts and inspiration in as little as a week. Poets & Writers has a solid database of writing conferences that you can navigate by event type, location, even financial aid deadlines.
Although there isn’t a writing conference where alcohol is specifically prohibited (yet), the writer Vonetta Young said that the VONA conference (for writers of color) doesn’t provide any conference-sponsored alcohol, and writers Caitlin Horrocks and Tara Lindis-Corbell both said the same thing of the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop. Librarian and inn manager Jesica Sweedler DeHart says that food takes center stage at the Orcas Island Literary Festival where most of the events are hosted by a tea or coffee company.
If you need extra support around alcohol, look for programs that have recovery meetings that are relatively easy to get to and attend. “Going somewhere with a strong recovery presence,” suggests the writer Hallie Goodman, “can help you connect with other writers who are feeling a little alienlike as they see all of their peers get sloshed.”
Take an online writing class
Since the advent of digital technology, there might not be a better boon for writers than the online writing class. Though the classes are online, the students and the teachers are real people, busy ones like you. And with the rising popularity of online writing classes, the standards set for teachers are very (very!) high: as I write, the likes of Arif Anwar, Yahdon Israel, and Leigh Stein are all teaching online, and the talent in the student pool is equally impressive.
Even if you’re not meeting in person, online classes offer emerging writers important social benefits: you might make a friend you can go on to workshop with privately; if you have a positive relationship with your teacher, you can ask them for a recommendation letter at some point in the future. Learning to take—and give—feedback from your peers will also help you gain the technical skills you’ll need to be more self-reliant when you are revising your own work.
In addition to expanding your personal writing network, online classes can bolster your creativity СКАЧАТЬ