I hate to think I am someone who can’t admit when he’s wrong. That said, let me begin by pointing out where I was right. As was outlined in The Great Cheapening Parts 1 & 2, there is an unfortunate bloating of the creative writing MFA system, the result of which was the articles’ namesake. When everyone has a graduate degree in creative writing, it loses its potency and, moreover, it’s value in the workplace. The larger problem I attempted to illustrate is the absence of regulation or standardization that has led to this bloating. The privilege of awarding graduate degrees in creative writing is enjoyed by both the Ivy League and the internet schools. Lastly, the professional student who has gone from high school to undergrad to graduate school usually finds his or her writing, may I say, under-informed.

Now, to address my shortcomings, I’d like to start with the potency question. I concede following: 1) Everyone, in fact, does not have an MFA in Creative Writing. In fact, in comparison with the multitude of other degrees offered at university or, better still, to the sheer size of this planet’s population, MFA’s in creative writing are few and far between. That does not seem true in “my world” but I failed to consider the limitations of my world and the breed of professionals I run with. 2) I also failed to consider the question of workplace. What would the workplace be for a poet or novelist with an MFA? Outside academia it is safe to assume that the workplace would be whatever it is said writer does by day, so that he might have a home in which to write, a computer on which to write, money for books, pens, moleskin journals, cigarettes. There are also those jobs that are writing-related, though not necessarily artistic, which might be more easily acquired by an MFA program graduate: corporate writing, copy editing, tutoring, or writing ad copy, instruction manuals, text books, and the like. That these don’t live up to romantic projections of what a writer should be makes them no less viable employment.

And now let’s address the question of bloating. I will concede 3) that many alternative university formats (i.e., internet based and low-residency) were established to accommodate various learning and life styles. I would still like to express my distrust, I guess you could say, of these formats. What was once a university for those with inflexible work schedules, children, or “limitations” has, in many cases, become the university where admission is almost guaranteed, and where a degree can be obtained quickly and with relatively little pain. Many of my cohorts would say that a graduate degree from Iowa, Syracuse or Irvine simply carries more weight than one from an internet-based or private vocational school. They say that those within the literary world know the difference between an online school and a prestigious campus-based program. This may be true, but is that difference recognized outside the writing community? Should the privilege of awarding an MFA be readily available to any institution that finds it profitable to do so? For instance, you cannot go to medical school or get a Masters of Social Work online. Accreditation limitations and field study prohibit the medium. But is this a good thing? I guess this assumes there is a right way and wrong way (or less right) to teach writing. A right and wrong way to learn. But that is for another article(s) altogether.

Finally, I will concede that 4) there is a good argument to be made against life experience versus scholastic achievement. Or, rather, timing. It is true that simply because someone does not have the life experience requisite to write the great American novel upon finishing graduate school, that they won’t acquire such experience later. I will also concede that the term “life experience” is vague at best, though I understand it to be a certain amount of struggle involving the adult world: work, love, family, bills, politics, travel, pain. Again, there is no way to get away from being vague here, so I will just abandon this argument altogether.

The overriding theme of the conversations I had after the initial articles were published involved students’ love of the MFA. More often than not, those that went to prestigious schools felt like they had a rather sophisticated experience that was immensely beneficial to their writing, and which also provided excellent networking opportunities. Those that went somewhere less prestigious perhaps felt their education less refined, but thought the experience still forced them to write a great deal. This says to me that perhaps the problem is not the MFA, but the lack of alternative. I was very busy criticizing the current way without recognizing that there is either no current alternative (save simply not going to an MFA), and didn’t think to propose a solution to the academic model. So, is this a problem of having too many sub par programs, too many pop-novels published every year, not enough critique happening at the graduate school level, or not enough community support for the craft of writing? Is there a problem? Is it the plight of the writer to struggle against the impossible task of writing, living, and answering criticism?

Flatmancrooked would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on these subjects. And, if you phrase your ideas well, we might even let you write a response article, which we’ll, in turn, publish on the blog.

By Elijah Jenkins