Now that it’s January, we’ve started to see some applications again for our low-residency MFA program for another year. This has me thinking about all the advice I’ve given to applicants over the years. If I could give one piece of advice on how to apply, I think it would be to just be you. Don’t stress too much about the process (I know that’s easier said than done), and do put your best effort into presenting yourself as the writer you are. A genuine application letter will always look better to me that one that seems to be someone trying too hard to be someone they are not.
A few years ago, I wrote a post on 15 Things to Do Before a Low-Res MFA (plus 5 bonus things). I meant this listicle to be somewhat tongue in cheek, since I don’t expect anyone to do all of those things. It was intended more as a way to think about when you might be ready to embark on an MFA than to judge whether someone is good enough. For instance, many successful applicants to our have never published in a literary magazine, but if they haven’t ever thought of doing that or don’t even know what a literary magazine is, then maybe they’re not ready to start their MFA. Or maybe they are, but they should know there’s a literary world out there that they will need to get to know.
Applicants may not have had time to revise their best work four times after graduating from college or after they wrote it, but they should be open and willing to revise, and they should be hungry for the kind of interaction they’ll get in an MFA program that can lead to revision. Applicants who want to be told that their writing is as good as it can possibly be should find other avenues for affirmation than an MFA. We don’t try to be cruel in our program (and some programs have that kind of reputation), but we are here to educate, and education means challenging students to grow and change. If that sounds exciting and invigorating, then an MFA is right for you. If it sounds debilitating, even when done in constructive and supportive ways, then maybe you should find another path.
When writing your letter of intent or statement of purpose, it’s great to mention some of the things on that list. It’s great to brag about your accomplishments, but if you don’t have many accomplishments, that’s not a deal breaker. Tell me your favorite magazine if you have one, tell me your favorite recent authors who have been publishing in magazines or books, tell me the styles or genres that float your boat, and describe who you are and where you’re from and/or where you hope to go with your writing. Don’t try to be the writer you think I want you to be, but instead write your best, well-crafted letter that shows me the kind of writer you are.
That’s my best advice for my program, and I expect it is good advice for just about any program. If you made yourself sound ‘better’ (and by that I mean different than you are, which is probably not really better after all), then you might get into a program you thought you wanted to get in, but it also might not really be the best program for you. It might be the best program for that ‘other you’ that you convinced them you were, but would you be happy becoming that writer? Maybe, maybe not. So relax, be yourself, and put your best foot forward. I’m confident that if you do that, things will work out for the best, especially if you do your research and apply to a number of programs that seem like they would be good for you.
Kendall Dunkelberg 