Top 5 Things I Learned From My MFA

… Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell, hi!

Yes, for all the morbidly-minded, I AM still alive. And I’m still answering your questions! My form is still open, so you can always send me any questions or ideas for blogs! I’ve just lately been so busy with my other writing that I have been scarce on this side of the internet.

Let’s get on to a prompt sent in by Kelly. Kelly writes:

Hi Robyn! I was wondering what were the top five valuable lessons you learned from your MFA program days? Lessons that helped shape you into the writer you are now. Thank you in advance!

Thank you for writing in and I hope these five top tips are in the ballpark of what you’re looking for!

1. You don’t have to take editing advice from everyone. As a matter of fact, that’s deadly. I would never take editing advice from someone whose writing I didn’t respect. You know, it’s weird; when you’re first tossed into critique groups, your mindset is usually (with the aid of the teacher) to accept everyone’s input. You should do that OUTWARDLY. No one’s saying be a dick. But when you’re at home, looking at everyone’s line edits and notes, toss away the notes of the people you know aren’t who or what you aspire to be like. Really.

2. You don’t have to read ten doorstoppers a month to be a good writer. People will posture and list off all the Pulitzer nominees they’ve read but is that doing them any good? Maybe, maybe not. Writing is about the world, it’s not just about other writing. If you’re ingesting media in general and going out and listening to humans talk and noticing the leaves changing, you’re doing the work.

3. That being said, write a lot. Write all the time. Write when it’s sucky and write when it’s hard. Write when you don’t feel like it, even a paragraph a day, even if it’s just to describe your favorite TV show to a friend who really doesn’t wanna hear it. Write anyway.

4. Publishing your short stories in physical journals and magazines is nice and it impresses people in your program but when you get OUT in the real world, nobody reads those things except your family, so find other ways to get your writing into the world.

5. You need to learn the rules before you can gracefully break them. It’s an old adage but true. Studying older literature is good to learn how to twist it and how to build on it. Nothing exists in a void and everything you do will be considered referential anyway, so you might as well know what you’re doing.

Well, I hoped this helped! These five things are not only things I learned while IN the school but things I’ve realized since leaving. They’re what I realized when I looked around myself to see how far I’ve come.

Hindsight is 20/20.

If you’d like to ask a question, just hit the Contact button here on my site and send one in!

4 Tips for Receiving Criticism in the Fiction Workshop

I’ve been in many workshops – high end, low end, undergrad, graduate, fiction, poetry, with bestselling writers and unknowns. Ones in which it seemed everyone was a professional and capable of handling constructive critiques and ones in which people were giant titty-babies who couldn’t handle one negative point made.

I remember when someone cried.

She was younger than me, not by much. This was in undergrad where everyone was nervous, anxiously wanting to prove their capability. The concept of relaxation hadn’t yet worked its way into our skin.

She was obviously proud of her story; you could tell because she talked about it beforehand with us which is something of a faux pas. Do not discuss the work outside of the workshop, particularly with people you don’t know! Because chances are they don’t care. Something else you should know: s/he whose work is being discussed is not to speak during the discussion. S/he is not to defend, plead or bargain. ‘Take what you are given and expect no more’ kind of deal. She was breaking all kinds of unspoken rules.

As we were discussing (and at this point, you could tell this story was not a class favorite) she spoke up. The point being made currently: this part of the story is unrealistic for the kind of character we have thus far been shown. The girl said, “But this really happened! This happened to me and this is how I responded!”

Now, at this point, everyone was, one, annoyed at being interrupted and, two, inly rolling their eyes because this defense is as lame as they come. The “this really happened” line is a non-sequitur. Never is it appropriate in a fiction workshop. I don’t care if it did happen and neither does anyone else. Fiction is not real life and the two are not interchangeable. If we as an audience cannot believe it on the page, it needs to be changed, end of story. I said so. Others did too.

Then came the waterworks.

I went to LA for a screenwriting job.

The professor agreed with us and we hurried to get to the end of her workshop. I can still see her sitting across the circle from me: patchy red and soggy-faced, looking sullen and angry. I knew she wasn’t going to use any of the edits. I’ll never get back the breath I used that day.

Here’s how to accept and be one with critiques:

1. Be open.

Openness is something you have control over. Can you control how other people see your work? No. And I’m not heartless – I’m always the critiquer and the critiqued, so I know it’s frustrating when people divine nonsense from your work, when you’re dying to say, “That’s not what that means at all!” There’s no control there. There is control in how you respond to it. One of my grad profs said that during your workshop, when your story is being discussed, you are to sit on your throne and observe. This is some of the best advice you can get. Sit there, look regal, and nod and take in what people are saying. Don’t spend time scribbling notes; they won’t do you any good. Openness works in many ways. You are open to their opinions and readings. You are open to seeing your work through their eyes. You are open to change.

2. Be gracious.

Smile, goddammit. This isn’t wartime; it’s serious, yes, but this is your day! Your work is being looked upon, scrutinized. Do you know how lucky you are? Do you? So many wanna-be writing cadets would kill to have a proper workshop look at their work, to guide them towards publication, which is the real goal of any good workshop. People in these workshops have taken time to read, re-read and consider your work. To think about how best to give you their opinions. To show you there may be a better way to get across your point. You are so lucky.

3. Be faithful.

To you, to your work. You know where you wanted to go with this in the first place, don’t you? You know what you wanted to say, right? If the consensus among the workshop is that your point did not come across, look for how they suggest alternative routes. Take these routes. Use the workshop’s ideas – bridges, high roads, low roads – to get to your destination. Having a story critiqued does not mean giving up ownership. It means strengthening your claim and learning from your missteps.

4. Be discerning.

You can’t take everyone’s advice. That way lies ruin. It may take you some time, but you will learn by reading others who you share ideals with and whose writing you admire. Obviously always give particular consideration to the workshop head/professor, as they are the most experienced and will… probably not steer you wrongly, but on a second tier, look to the people in the workshop who you feel kinship with. If you admire their work and they give you a point to look at or advice on sentence structure, value theirs above someone who you aren’t sure about. You obviously wouldn’t say these things aloud, just keep it in mind and take everyone’s criticisms equally graciously.

The day of your workshop is a great day for you and your writing. There is no where else you will get this kind of treatment. I don’t care if you have a group of friends you trade stories with; I don’t care if you write fanfiction and someone gave you a good comment; no one looks at your work the way a coherent and serious workshop will. But this advice also extends to taking criticism from your editor or agent. The relationship between the critiquer and the critiqued is a constant and measured push and pull. Allow yourself and your writing to be taken care of.