Recounting the MFA Application Process in Too Many Words
At some point in the middle of pursuing a biology degree I don’t really want, I decide that being happy is more important than being a stressed-out physical therapist with a comfortable income, a temperate passion for the work, and a flash drive filled with unfinished manuscripts from when I dared have dreams. So, I change majors and spend a lot more time writing. I go through the last few semesters of my BA in English improving slowly, but it’s not good enough for me. I need to get better, faster. The summer before I’m set to graduate, I look into getting my MFA. I don’t know anyone who has applied to an MFA program before, and the blog posts I find tend to focus on tips for success rather than the process of applying itself. I throw myself into unknown waters, stitching together advice and experiences from the people around me into a vague, patchwork concept of grad school considerations and desired qualities.
Cut to this past February when I get an email from University of California, Riverside congratulating me on my acceptance into the Creative Writing and Writing for the Performing Arts MFA program. They offer to cover my tuition, provide healthcare, and give a quarterly stipend that, while not exactly a livable amount, does a lot to sweeten the pot. As someone looking to write for the stage and screen, scoring this deal a stone’s throw from Los Angeles has got me over the moon.
I don’t think I’m the best person to be giving advice; quite frankly, it feels like I leapt off a roof and happened to land on a mattress with “Success” painted on it. Even now I’m not entirely sure I know what I did right. However, I think learning about another person’s experiences can be reassuring. I hope reading about my decisions and mindset will help others perusing MFA programs to set expectations and prepare themselves mentally.
Starting Out
The first step is deciding that, above all else, I want to write. I want to be a writer. And I want to be crazy good at it.
With that settled, finding the program I want proves a little difficult. Fiction and poetry are popular, and there are great programs all around the country. Unfortunately, fiction and poetry are not 100% my area of interest. Creative nonfiction? Noticeably fewer options, but still a good lot to sort through. Not really my thing, though. Playwriting and screenwriting, my only true flame? Slim pickins. Some universities tack on the dramatic arts to a creative writing program that’s clearly more interested in other mediums, and entire states have no programs at all. Two-thirds of the west coast lacks a screenwriting program. Though, oddly, Alaska has one in Fairbanks…
No matter! That last third is California, which has a smorgasbord of programs to choose from provided you’re rich or don’t care about student debt. … Oh. That’s right. Schools cost money. Of ten great universities, seven will require extensive tribute to a druidic financial council each semester.
Well, let’s narrow the field a little more. Plenty of schools offer full or partial funding through some combination of fellowships, scholarships, and teaching assistantships. This includes, oddly enough, The University of Alaska, Fairbanks. Suddenly Alaska doesn’t sound too bad.
Fully funded programs typically require full-residency, which means attending classes on campus and living nearby, or low-residency, going to campus only a few days or weeks out of the year and otherwise living wherever. There are a few online-only programs, though that’s not my preference. Tennessee is a … it’s certainly a … I mean, it’s a place to live. But I’d like to see the world beyond the Cumberland Plateau. So, my list of programs shrinks to include the best full-residency programs I can find with full funding or the promise of generous financial support.
Now comes the hard part.
Phase 1: The Application Process
My first deadline is November 1st, and though I had made my decision to apply back in August, I, like any great English major, wait until October to start in earnest. Luckily, most of the schools require all the same materials.
Statement of Purpose/Personal Statement. For some schools these are distinct documents, and for others the terms are interchangeable. In my Statement of Purpose, I write about the skills I have that make me a great fit for the universities, what I plan to do with my degree (making sure to say “I will” rather than “I hope” to create an air of confidence), and how studying at a given university will improve my abilities. In my Personal Statement, I give a mini autobiography that follows my relationship with writing, how my life has affected my writing, and vice versa. I do this mainly because I don’t know what else to write, but I think it works. For most schools, the word limit is between 500 to 750, so I write a cool 490 and change the name of the school for each application. Lazy? Sure. Effective? I’d say so. I get a lot of help from the Writing Center as well; hearing new perspectives on what to include and how to phrase things really makes a difference. I wouldn’t have thought to talk about connecting my past experiences with the program goals and expected outcomes, for example, without talking to a Writing Center tutor.
Three Letters of Recommendation. I find the two professors whose opinion on writing I respect the most and my wonderful boss at the Writing Center (a fine place that I highly recommend all writers visit to talk about writing) and ask them to say nice things about me. I think it’s important to have references from academic, creative, and professional perspectives, and I’d encourage others to start making impressions in all three fields if they’re getting ready to apply to places, too.
Resume/CV. Some schools want to know what sort of work and industry experience I have. I’m a bit lacking in this department, having spent most of my time as a writing tutor rather than lurking on film sets, though I have some creative highlights, including getting a PSA script produced (or at least accepted to be produced). I rearrange my resume to put the creative achievements at the top.
Transcripts and Personal Information. Most screenwriting MFA programs don’t require the GRE, though a GPA of 3.0 or higher is a must. Some schools want unofficial transcripts; some want official. Probably should make note of who wants what before the deadlines loom, but… oh well.
Writing Sample. This is the big one. Most of my focus during the application process is on getting my writing samples as polished as possible. Schools ask for anything from a 25-page portion of a script to a full episode of an hour-long drama. I’m in and out of professors’ offices (yes, the same ones that wrote my LoRs) with new drafts and a litany of concerns and questions for the entire fall semester. I’m super stressed about my writing until one of the professors (well, really her husband) reminds me that schools aren’t looking for perfect writing; they’re looking for potential. After all, they want to be able to teach me something; otherwise what’s the point in having me? That’s a weight off my shoulders and makes the rest of the writing process a bit easier (though still not a cakewalk because deadlines deadlines deadlines).
The thing that really helps me through this process is the support of others, from my professors to the Writing Center to my grad student friends that have been through a similar hell once before. It’s easy for me to get stuck in my head and feel like an imposter or otherwise like I’m not good enough. Sometimes having someone to give me a reassuring push forward makes things a lot more manageable. Plus, other people tend to be much better at judging the quality of my writing than I am, so feedback is invaluable.
I send the first application thirty minutes before submissions close. From there, it’s a matter of changing names and resubmitting information to every school on my list. Due dates range from November to February, so there’s plenty of time to revise and second guess and regret and oh god that thing I submitted two months ago is full of typos no no no no…
I plan to apply to eight schools, though due to a few screw-ups, only properly send materials to six. After much soul searching, I opt not to pursue higher education in the great frozen town of Fairbanks. Two schools, UCLA and NYU, turn out to offer less generous funding than I hope, so I probably can’t go even if I am accepted. The remaining schools are Boston University (really selective, really unlikely), University of Texas, Austin (crazy selective, equally unlikely), University of Kansas (meh), and University of California, Riverside (pretty selective but maybe a little less popular than others? my top choice).
After everything’s sent out, we play the waiting game.
Phase 2: Doubt and Contingencies
The previous phase was the most strenuous, but this one is the most scary. There’s a sense of uncertainty and dread as my future now rests in the hands of admissions committees around the country. I’m left isolated and helpless, receiving no feedback for weeks and months at a time. It’s here that I start planning for the slew of rejection letters I’m certain will come.
I sign up for an online course to get my Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) certification. If I can’t go to graduate school, I can go to Korea. Aside from the required practicum, the course itself isn’t very different from an online university course: do the reading, take a quiz, post on the discussion board, do the homework, repeat for ten weeks.
And at the end of it, I can teach in just about any country, including and especially South Korea. I can work for a private academy that will cover housing and the plane ticket while paying $800 or more a month, or I could work with a public school and get loads of days off and a comfortable salary. Above all else, I’d get to live and write in South Korea! Isn’t that great? The classic expat-writer lifestyle. But I digress.
Of course, the best way to make the fear and stress go away is through writing. I spend some time brainstorming a project that will require as much investment and escapism as possible to keep myself from getting swallowed by anxiety: a video game! Why not try something new, right? It’s about as frustrating as I expect, but it’s fun in equal measure.
And through all this, I anxiously check my email, waiting to hear anything from anyone.
Phase 3: Getting a Reply
My first rejection is from University of Texas, Austin. Theirs is lauded as one of the best fully funded programs in the country. Naturally, there would be a lot of competition, and I don’t make the cut. While the rejection hurts, a part of me thinks “Yeah, that’s about right.”
Before this, though, I receive an email from someone at the University of California, Riverside. They ask about resubmitting my transcripts as the copies I had provided do not show my name. After sending two dozen screenshots, I am left to wonder why someone would bother contacting me about this rather than throwing out my application for being improperly submitted. Perhaps I’m on a short list of applicants and …
No! Must not get my hopes up. If I expect nothing, then I can’t be disappointed when nothing happens. Right? Right? Please tell me I’m right.
Screw it. I’m gonna be bothered by rejection no matter my expectations, so I might as well hope for the best. And, after a few days of being anxious and giddy and suddenly aware of how badly I want to go to Riverside, I get an email from the UCR graduate division with some good news.
I’ve never said “yeehaw” before, but I think I understand the feeling behind it a little better now. Would California people think I’m interesting if I yeehawed? Would they like it if I played up the red-state angle? Ah jeez, do I need a personality now?
And with my grad school woes over, the question becomes —
Phase 4: What comes next?
Riverside’s offer contains a lot of great stuff, but housing is not in the package. I’ll need to find somewhere to stay before the fall quarter starts. Since the stipend won’t fully cover living expenses, I’ll likely need to find work right out of the gate. Luckily, that TEFL certificate won’t be going to waste; there are several lucrative opportunities for tutoring English online, particularly to Japanese and Chinese students. Plus, the program coordinators plan to put future students in touch with current students to talk about finding roommates and apartments. So, looks like everything’s coming up Milhouse.
I’ve got some time to get my affairs sorted before heading west, though, so I guess I’ll try to finish that video game too …
For the Prospective Applicants
Graduate school is not required to become a great writer. An MFA is not required to be a master of fine arts, if you will. That said, I’m happy with the path I’ve chosen, and I look forward to honing my craft in a program of equally passionate writers. For those eager to do the same, I hope knowing my trials, tribulations, and apparent successes can help settle some nerves and demystify the whole process.
Good luck, have fun, and go to the Writing Center.
