Category: School

The Value of a Creative Writing MFA – A (sort of) IWSG post

My first semester at a glance

In the very first post for this project way back in July of 2017, my entrance into an MFA graduate program of studies spurred the creation of this site. I’d been studying creative writing at Lesley University for just over a year at that point. Someone–I don’t remember who–suggested I start a blog.

So, I did. I called it a project rather than a blog, though, because I don’t really understand what a blog is. Is this site a blog? It’s irrelevant, I supposed. The point was to document my journey through my MFA program.

Which brings me to the main point for today’s entry.

I GRADUATED!!

Holy shoot! I’m done. It’s over. No more assigned books to read, reflective papers to write, deadlines to meet. No more feedback letters to read, mentors to pester with longwinded emails that are 90% anxiety dumps and 10% legitimate questions, no more residency classes to prep for. As of this past Saturday, I am Katherine Karch, MFA.

Thoughts are bouncing around in my noggin about the experience. Fresh, virgin, unanalyzed ideas. And they might be important, so I’m writing them here before I forget them. No doubt, I’ll be processing my MFA experience for years to come, but right now, one thought is burning brightly in my mind:

What did I get out of this crazy, two-year-long journey?

There are a few possible answers. The literal education, for one thing, was outstanding. I am definitely a more skilled writer now than when I entered the program. The daily discipline I developed over these past two years will serve me forever as I pursue a career in writing. But I think the community I got plugged into via this program might be the most important thing I gained.

The community? I can practically hear doubters rolling their eyes (that’s how hard they’re rolling them). You want a community? Babe, that’s what Facebook groups are for. You didn’t need to pony up X dollars for a masters program to get a community.

Firstly, don’t call me babe. Secondly, Facebook is a false community. So are all the thousands of other online communities that exist for writers, several of which I am a member and enjoy. The Insecure Writer’s Support Group is one. And since this is technically (although not completely) an IWSG post for the month of July, let me pause for a moment and plug that particular group. As far as online communities for writers go, it’s one of the best. Thanks to this month’s hosts: Nicki Elson,Juneta Key,Tamara Narayan,andPatricia Lynne!The question for this month was: What are your ultimate writing goals, and how have they changed over time (if at all)? I’ll be partly answering that question later on in this post.

NaNoWriMo and CampNaNoWriMo are two branches of another online resource. The Hatrack River Writer’s Workshop is yet another. They’re all great, but none of them is an actual community in so far as I’ve never met any of the other members in real life. The camaraderie and support I can garner from these groups is inherently limited.

I cannot speak to other MFA in Creative Writing programs, and I cannot speak to other people’s experience in the MFA program from which I just graduated. I can only tell you that, for me, the price tag worth it. The education I received at Lesley was outstanding, but the friendships I made might be even more important to my long-term success.

Contrary to the age-old cliché, writing is not a solitary process. Not if you want to be successful. A writer needs support from other folks, real folks they know in real life. People they can call, or have dinner with, or go to conferences with. People with whom they can stay up late talking about ridiculous things. That’s probably been true since the beginning, to be honest.

I entered graduate school two years ago not knowing any other writers. Today, as I sit and write this overly wordy blog post, I am thinking of a long list of writers both new and established whom I can now call “friend.” A select and small group of them might be (if I’m exceedingly lucky) my friends for life. And, now that I’m no longer their student, I am going to try on the descriptor of “friend” when referencing the mentors with whom I worked–Tracey Baptiste, Mikki Knudsen, Susan Goodman, Chris Lynch, and Jason Reynolds. It feels audacious of me, but be bold, I say. They were/are amazing people, and I hope to stay in touch with them (professionally, even, if everything goes according to my evil plan, mwah-ah-ah-ah).

A very well established and successful author who shall remain nameless told me just two nights ago that success in this industry (publishing) is as much about who you know as it is about what you know. That probably sounds very cynical, but I suspect it’s also true. Having navigated this program all the way through to the end, I am delighted to say that I am on stable ground on both fronts. My writing is better, and I know a lot more people. In knowing more people, I am significantly better positioned to achieve my ultimate goal as a writer, which is to support myself and my family by writing books. I have networking connections within the traditional publishing industry, and I have a community of people whom I know and like and trust. Folks who care about me and want to support me. Likewise, I care about them and want to support them. That’s going to make the road to success far less jarring and far more enjoyable.

I did it. I graduated. I am a creative writing “master,” which is a little weird to write. The title “novice” would probably be more accurate. But, two days out from having received my handshake and diploma (not really, just a certificate. The diploma will arrive in the mail a month from now), I am feeling most grateful for the people I met and the relationships I forged. If anyone ever questions my choice to pay for a masters in creative writing, citing the fact that I could have learned “all that stuff” from craft books and YouTube, I will simply smile at them and give them a pacifying nod. I will never regret my choice to do this because if I hadn’t attended Lesley, I would probably never have met and become close friends with the people I did. And isn’t that what life is all about? The people we meet? The relationships we form? The communities we build? It is for me.

How important are your friends for your long-term success in achieving your goals?

July 4, 2018
Writing That Hooks Readers – Neuroscience Hack #1
The final requirement for my Masters in Creative Writing program at Lesley University is to teach a graduate student seminar, and I’ve chosen a topic that merges my two great passions in life: biology and writing. More specifically, neuroscience and literature. I’m going to drop a little science on my fellow writers next week by teaching them three inescapable brain hacks they can employ to suck readers into their stories.

It occurred to me that these neuroscience hacks would make some cool blog posts. Today’s neuroscience hack is subtle but incredibly useful.

Brain Hack #1: The human brain evolved to monitor the immediate environment for signs of change.

It’s true! From an evolutionary standpoint, the brain is an organ with a singular purpose. To keep us alive. An essential part of “not dying” is noticing any kind of change to the current situation.

Change grabs our attention as we assess whether it is positive or negative. The brain then forms a “survival goal” based on the conclusion and takes steps to achieve that goal. It could be as simple as putting on a sweater when the temperature drops. Or eating food when blood glucose levels fall. Or running for cover when a strange shadow shifts position in the tall grasses of the African savannah.

Changes such as a hulking figure with a knife stepping from a shadowy alley come with potentially extreme consequences. Experiencing that situation firsthand could mean death. Thankfully, our brains developed workarounds that let us gain knowledge and experience safely.

We have the somewhat unique ability to learn by watching others deal with problems.

Forget it, babe. You’re hooked!

Whether the observed individual lives or dies, we gain knowledge that might keep us alive should we encounter a similar problem.

When we read fictional stories, we get to practice identifying changes and assessing their potential positives or negatives.

In 2007, researchers found that when people read stories, there is a significant increase in brain activity during narrative moments containing changes in characters, scene locations, or changes in characters’ goals.

Changes that Really Light Brains Up:
- Words that suggest the passage of time, such as later, soon, shortly, or immediately.
- Descriptions of spacial changes, such as characters moving from one room to another, or even moving from one side of a room to another.
- Descriptions of characters changing their interaction with objects (picking up or putting down objects, or opening or closing things like doors or windows).
- Showing characters starting a new, goal-oriented action with a clear intent. For example, initiating a conversation, preparing to jump over a puddle, or thrusting a sword during a fight.
Consider the following excerpt from Cressida Cowell’s middle grade novel How to Train Your Dragon:

The Dragon had crawled down into the depths of the ocean and gone into a Sleep Coma. Dragons can stay in this suspended state for eternity, half-dead, half-alive, buried under fathom after fathom of icy-cold seawater. Not a muscle of this particular Dragon had moved for six or seven centuries.

But the previous week, a Killer Whale who had chased some seals unexpectedly deep was surprised to notice a slight movement in the upper eyelid of the dragon’s right eye. An ancestral memory stirred in the whale’s brain and he swam away from there as fast as his fins could carry him. And, a week later, the sea around the Dragon Mountain—which had previously been teeming with crabs and lobsters and shoals and shoals of fish—was a great, underwater desert. Not a mollusk stirred, not a scallop shimmied.

Admit it, that’s some engaging writing. One of the reasons why it pulls you in so fast is because it contains so much change. Your brain locks onto the text as it tries to figure out whether those changes are good or bad. Cowell employs another interesting neuroscience hack in this excerpt, too, but that’s a topic for another post.

Regardless of the quality of the actual story being told (Twilight? The Da Vince Code? Fifty Shades of Gray?), certain tricks can grab readers by the brain and engage them. Change is one of them. Take a look at your writing and see if adding a few elements of change livens things up a bit.

Have you ever gotten so into a book you were reading that you lost track of time and literally forgot about the real world? What was the book, and what was it that sucked you in so effectively?

Thanks for stopping by, and as always, happy writing to you!
June 21, 2018
The Pros and Cons of Grammarly.com

There are a gazillion writing apps and programs out there in the digital world, some that cost money and some that are free. Of them all, I’ve tried a handful. However, after two years in grad school, chasing the dream of getting an MFA in creative writing, I’ve come to rely heavily on one in particular: Grammarly. Just to be clear, I’m not affiliated with Grammarly. I’m not getting paid to push the app. It’s definitely not perfect, but I like it enough to write a post about it.

What is Grammarly?

Grammarly.com is an online writing program with a free version and a premium version. The Chrome extension is free, or you can pay a monthly, quarterly, or yearly subscription fee to upgrade. As you probably guessed, the cheapest per month price comes with the annual subscription and works out to about $12/month.

I tried the free version when I was putting together my application materials for Lesley University’s Low Residency MFA in Creative Writing program. Everything I wrote (cover letter, personal essay, and my creative piece) got fed through the program and analyzed. The day I got the news that I’d been accepted into the program, I bought the yearly subscription because I knew I’d be using it often for the next two years.

What Does Grammarly Do?

In a nutshell, it makes your writing better. It is, for all intents and purposes, an editing algorithm. I’d even go so far as to say that it’s a pretty darned good one, too.

See that fancy infographic I screenshotted off their homepage up above? Well, after two years of using the software I can say with confidences that it does all of that.

You can either type directly in the program, or you can upload a file (google doc, word doc). I tend to cut and paste in my material.

The above claim sounds a little hoaky. I mean, if you write enough stuff, your writing skills are going to improve no matter what. It’s inevitable. That said, the detailed explanations that pop up when you hover over a flagged item is a mighty great feature. I like not having to dive out to dictionaries and thesauruses and my copy of The Everyday Writer to check whether a word is appropriate or a grammatical construct is valid. In that way, Grammarly will probably improve your skills faster than they otherwise would.

Free Versus Premium:

The free version of Grammarly is legitimately decent. Heck, I used it to clean up my application materials (successfully). I only upgraded from the free version to catch stuff I’m apparently blind to: spelling mistakes, homophone errors, repetitious used of certain crutch words, etc. I can read through a written piece ten times, and the thing will still look like it was written at 3AM by a sleep-deprived college kid.

For me, all the extra bells and whistles were worth the money. On one of my earliest submissions in my grad school program, I was up against a deadline and in my stressed-out frame of mind, I forgot to run my submission through Grammarly. I’d read it over multiple times, tweaking, correcting awkward sentence structure, finding typos, and punctuation errors, etc.

My professor sent the submission back to me. She wouldn’t read a piece with more than two mistakes per page. I was mortified. Since then, I’ve never forgotten to use Grammarly to check my work before sending it out to anyone.

When you start a new document in Grammarly, you can select which features are or aren’t active. You can also help the algorithm edit to your needs by telling it what type of document it’s analyzing.

I’ve let the program run an analysis of a document in its “General (default)” setting, made note of the number of “critical” and “Advanced” issues, and then selected “Novel” format and let it re-analyze the document. The number of “critical” issues rarely changes. The number of “advanced” issues almost always decreases in novel format. I guess that means the algorithm knows that creative writers play it a little fast and loose with grammar rules.

Professional Proofreading Services

Premium memberships give you access to a feature I have never used. Supposedly, a real person will read your document and give you feedback on it. I’m skeptical. I don’t know who’s putting eyes on my stuff on the other end. It could be someone with legit editing skills, or it could be someone for whom English is not their first language. For all I know, it could be a well-trained monkey. Maybe one day, I’ll submit a document for professional proofreading, just to see what happens. I probably should. I’m paying for the feature, after all.

Drawbacks and Downsides?

Of course there are drawbacks and downsides.

First, it costs money. That said, it rubs me the wrong way when folks gripe about having to pay for things they want. As if they’re entitled to get everything they want in life for free. Sorry, but someone took the time to write a pretty massive program and debug the thing. They deserve to get paid for their work.

Second, it misses errors. After two years of using the program, I’d estimate that Grammarly misses between 30% and 50% of all the errors that exist in a piece of writing. For some folks, that’s a deal breaker. Not for me. Why? Because the program gets me 50% to 70% of the way toward a mistake free document. That saves me time, and my time is valuable. Now, maybe utilizing that nifty professional proofreading feature would catch the rest of the errors. I don’t know. The point here is, expecting an algorithm to be perfect is dumb. Especially considering the fact that most of us humans can’t match Grammarly’s imperfect error-catch rate.

Third (and the biggest downside), Grammarly undoes certain formatting features in uploaded documents. When you import a piece of writing into the program, all your special fonts, italics, and bold-faced type get converted to plain text. When you export it back to Google Docs or MS Word or Scrivener or whatever, you’ll have to paw through the piece looking for the lost formatting and fix it. I find that step incredibly irritating. Invariably, I’ll miss multiple words or sentences that need to be re-italicized. Grrr.

So yeah, Grammarly is far from perfect, but it’s still pretty darned great for anyone doing a lot of writing.

Do you use Grammarly? What do you think of the program?

March 14, 2018
Writing is like Baseball: You Gotta Swing for the Fences!

Writing is like baseball. Most of the time, you recognize the pitch coming in and you manage a solid single when you swing at it. Occasionally, you strike out. Every once in a great while, though, you hit a grand slam. Or, if you’re new at it, like me, you dream about hitting a grand slam and when it’s your turn at bat, you give it everything you have and swing for the fences.

Between now and April 9th, I’m going to try to crank out an entire novel, start to finish. It’s okay, coach told me to do it.

Here’s the Pitch

I just got back from my amazing, energizing, mad-capped Residency at Lesley University. This was my fourth and (almost) final trip to geeky writer’s camp for grown-ups. That means I have officially entered my fourth semester of a four-semester-long program. This is it, folks. Everything else was just practicing in the batting cages. The lights are up, the bleachers are packed, it’s the bottom of the ninth inning and the bases are loaded. I’m going to use a bunch of baseball metaphors in this post in case my Thesis Advisor, Chris Lynch, catches wind of this post and reads it. You know him. He wrote Inexcusable, Irreversible, Killing Time in Crystal City, Little Blue Lies, Gold Dust, and a bunch of other incredible award-winning novels.

Anyway, residency is a mixture of seminars, panel discussions, and workshop sessions in which a bunch of us sit around and give critical feedback to each other on pieces we submitted at the beginning of December.

The workshop sessions are one of the highlights of residency for me. I absolutely love reading other people’s writing, digging into it deeply, and then discussing it with other serious and passionate writers. I also love receiving feedback on my stuff. Even when folks point out more problems than positives in my work, I find the experience hopeful.

This time around was a slightly different workshop experience for me for a couple of reasons.

First, I’m entering my “Thesis Semester.” On May 7th, I must turn in between 100 and 120 pages of a “finished” piece of writing to someone who has never set eyes on it before–Jason Reynolds. Ever heard of him? Of course you have, you’re using the internet and you’re reading a blog about writing.

So, yeah. No pressure, right? Riiiiiiight. [takes a moment to breathe into a paper bag] Okay, I’m good.

Most students entering the Thesis Semester have a working draft already completed, or at least a very solid chunk of it.

The second reason why it was a different experience was because Mr. Lynch pitched something at me I was not expecting.

A Curve Ball

Six days before my residency workshop pieces were due (we need to write two pieces, each between 3,000 and 6,500 words long), I contacted Chris Lynch with a question. It was via email, but this is how the conversation sounded in my imagination (I may have taken extreme liberties with the details).

“Hi, Chris.”

“Oh, hey, Kathy. Great to hear from you. I’ve heard so much about you from my colleagues. Can’t wait to work with you!” (He said none of that, by the way.)

“Thanks, Chris. Same to you. So… I’ve got two different books going right now.”

“Okay.”

“One’s a fun MG steam punk piratical fantasy adventure story. I’m enjoying it, but it’s not quite your style, I think.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The other is a gritty YA post-apocalyptic wilderness survival story. Totally up your alley, but it’s a hot mess at the moment. Needs a ton of work.”

“Right.”

“Maybe I could submit some of one novel for my Large Group Workshop and some of the other novel for my Small Group Workshop, and then you could tell me which one you like better, and we could use that for my thesis.”

“Hmmm… when are they due again?”

“Six days from now.”

“Yeah. Okay, so, why don’t you make up a completely new story from scratch and submit that for both your workshop pieces.”

[Eyes bulging with terror] “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. That’s what I want you to do. I’m your all powerful Thesis Advisor. Do you really want to say no to me?”

“Hahaha, no. No, definitely not. I mean, yes, that sounds great. I will totally do that for you. New story. Six days. Not a problem. Thank you so much.”

“You’re so welcome. Glad you called. Take care now. Bye-bye.” [click]

Did I freak out after I got his email reply? You bet your buttons I did. I wrote a post about it, actually. But then I did what he asked me to do and cranked out about 7,000 words of a brand-spanking new story. I wrote that sucker so fast and in such a panic that I didn’t stop to question anything. Setting, characters, plot, dialogue, point-of-view, nothing! I put my fingers on the keyboard, cleared my mind, and wrote Ouija-style!

Swinging For the Fences!

Turns out, the thing that fell out of my brain was… kind of cool. It feels a little weird to write that, but there you have it. Once I got over the shock of what I’d produced (a militant feminist world dominated by psychic women who are into all kinds of stuff our society has deemed taboo), I had to admit to myself that I kind of liked the story. Okay, I fully liked it.

I think all my pent-up rage from the past two years of… I’m not going to that dark place…came bubbling to the surface when Chris was all, like, “write me brand new stuff NOW!” My beloved called it my “man-hating” story. Chris called it a “black-widow feminist” piece. I’m calling it The 42nd Queen. Eh, it’s a working title.

Chris also told me I should make it my thesis project. In all fairness, he didn’t order me to do it. He’s not a monster, for Thor’s sake. I might even go so far as to say he’s a pretty awesome, inspiring, and kind guy. And, if I’m honest, what I wrote at his request (though I cursed him as I wrote it) is one of the first things I’ve written in a long time that gave me the feels as I was writing it. That means something, I think.

So, yeah. I’m going to make it my thesis project. Fourth semester shall not be my revision semester. It shall be my militant feminist, Ouija-style writing semester.

And if I’m going to take a swing at this, I’m going to swing for the fences.

120 page? Pshaw! Too easy.

Let’s try for a grand slam. An entire draft of a novel. In 82 days.

If I’m going to take a crack at this, I’m going to swing for the fences, Babe.

I mapped it out and it’s definitely possible. Assuming (perhaps naïvely) that I write 810 words every single day between now and then, I can hit 75,000 words (about 350 pages) by April 9th. There’s no guarantee they’ll be good words, but that’s beside the point.

The pitch has been thrown. It’s a curve ball breaking to the inside corner, and I’ve got a bead on it. The bat’s beginning to come around. My hips are cocked. Body weight shifting off the back leg. Here it comes.

Think I can do it?

January 17, 2018
From the Heart of the Bombogenesis

Before I dive into what “living through a Bombogenic event” felt like, allow me to begin by saying that as of this morning I failed at one of my three New Year Resolutions. If you’re curious about which one that might be, keep reading and see if you can figure it out, or click the link to the post where I laid them out.

I’m not proud of my failure in resolve and will power this morning, but I do at least have an excuse that (to me) feels less like an excuse and more like an explanation. I and my family spent the day dealing with a Really Freaking Big Snow Storm. Not blizzard of ’78 big. I’m not making a boast that ridiculous. I get to call it Really Freaking Big because of how it pitched my life sideways and what that felt like.

How Do You Stay Warm in a House with No Insulation?

Our house was built in the 1950’s on land that was part of a government veterans program post WW2 in which veterans were sold land for $1.00/acre. The program was a “Hey, thanks for doing that dangerous, deadly, horribly traumatizing thing for not just your own country’s citizens but for everyone pretty much everywhere” gift from US taxpayers. That was awesome, but in the 1950’s, insulation just wasn’t… good.

Imagine insulating a house by laying a piece of cotton felt between the studs and joists and then gluing a piece of aluminum foil to it. That’s about what we’ve got. The result is, heat bleeds out of our house at a prodigious rate.

We usually deal with this inconvenience by keeping our thermostat set to 55˚F, except for first thing in the morning when we indulge in a toasty 63˚F while everyone’s getting ready for school and work. Not so, when the Bombogenesis struck.

The temperature over the past two weeks has been abysmally cold. This morning, I heard a news reporter crow like a rooster that Boston was officially colder than Bismarck, North Dakota. Also, at what point did “who’s colder” become a thing to compete over? Anyway, we’re talking a two week period where temps regularly dipped or flat out stayed in the single digits. If you’re someone who lives where that’s a regular occurrence and you’re scoffing, I’d ask you to pause for a moment. Weather that cold is not a typical thing on the eastern coast of Massachusetts. Many homes (mine included) weren’t architecturally designed for such conditions. Freezing and bursting pipes is a genuine threat. The easiest way to avoid that happening is to crank the heat in your home.

Our heat-leaking home has had its thermostat set to 65˚F night and day for the past seven days.

What To Do With All That Snow And Nowhere To Put It?

Yesterday, ten inches of snow fell on us. It may have been more or less than that, but the wind was blowing so hard that there are bare spots in some places and giant snow drifts in other places. Point is, a LOT of snow.

I and the kids got a snow day, which we were all pretty stoked about.

All of Thursday, we listened to the wind roar through the trees around our house and slam itself against our northern face. We stood at our picture window and watched it drive sheets of snow almost parallel to the ground, so thick there were moments when we lost sight of the neighbor’s house across the street.

We stayed inside and sipped cocoa. I did some writing. The kids spent way too much time playing video games. My beloved got down into the studio and did some photographating. We cooked dinner and ate as a family and counted our blessings for being fortunate enough to have a warm home and plenty of food and electricity.

But today was (and I’ll get to the “was” thing in a moment) supposed to be my first day of my fourth and (almost) final nine-day-long, on-campus residency for Lesley University’s Low Residency Masters in Creative Writing program. Which meant we needed to get the cars dug out so I had a way to get to the train station this morning, because even if I wanted to walk the mile and a quarter to the train station, the sidewalks wouldn’t be dug out. No way I was going to walk the narrow, snow-plowed streets. I’d get creamed.

The photo really doesn’t do it justice. We also had to shovel our way down our front steps to even get to the cars.

So, after dinner, we ALL suited up and headed outside, shovels in hand and began the two-hour-long torture session of shoveling during the Bombogenesis. Odin, let me tell you, snowflakes sting like [insert preferred curse word here] when they’re pelting your face at 50 mph… in the dark… in single digit temperatures. I don’t usually post photos online of the areas in or around my house, but I think it will help give context to the volume of snow that we had to move and where we had to put it.

By the time we were done, I was done. Toast. Not physically sore, no. More like numb and flacid, as if my muscles had been replaced by jelly. I was moving slow, and it was an effort.

When the 5am alarm sounded this morning, my beloved (cut from a stronger cloth than I) rose to do our morning workout routine. I did not. I slept until 7am, when I was woken by the sound of the porch door being wrestled/slammed shut and someone stamping snow of their boots on the porch. Then the kitchen door opening and closing.

I went downstairs and learned that, during the night, plows had come by and undone most of what we’d shoveled the night before. And by undone, I mean they put back the 3′ high by 5′ wide mound of wet, grimy street snow that had blocked our driveway entrance. Instead of waking me and asking/demanding I help dig back out, my better half simply suited up and took care of things so that I could sleep in. Because today was my first day of residency, and it was going to be a long day for me. I know, I am blessed!!

But the Bombogenesis wasn’t finished with us yet.

No Insulation Plus A Ton of Snow Equals Ice Dams

As I grabbed my cup of coffee, sipped it, and strolled past our bathroom on the way to waking up my oldest child to let them know that their school had been cancelled for a second day, I glanced out the bathroom window and beheld an icicle as thick around as a grown man’s thigh streaming down glass like a frozen mountain stream.

Oh. My. God.

No one ever went out yesterday with the roof rake! Not once did it occur to me that with the heat up so high, all day long, the snow landing on the roof was melting, dripping into the metal gutter that was the same temperature as the air (9˚F) and freezing. We probably had an ice dam the size of Fort Peck sitting on our back roof.

I chugged my coffeed, and together I and my beloved suited back up and went back outside to deal with all the digging out we didn’t do last night. Luckily what at first appeared to be the mother of all ice dams ended up being a gigantic cornice of wind-compressed snow. We easily knocked off and then raked off the rest of the roof. Thankfully, it didn’t have a lot of snow on it because the wind was so fierce during the Bombogenesis. We shovelled a path to the basement door and cleared that out, then dug our way over to our dryer vent and cleared that out, then dug a path out to the middle of the yard so that our medium sized mutt could have a place to do his business without freezing his wiener off in snow up to his shoulders.

I may have slept in this morning, but I still got my workout in. Thanks mother nature.

Okay, potential ice dam crisis averted. I still had just over two hours before I had to catch a train into Cambridge for my first seminar of my Residency. How I was going to muster the physical energy needed to pick up a pen and write with it, I wasn’t sure, but I was ready. In fact, I was excited.

At Least I Had Residency To Look Forward To

Pretty much since December 1st, I’ve been counting down the days until my (almost) final residency. I’ve made some incredible friends through this program. They are spread out all over the country: Texas, Las Vegas, Seattle, Georgia, West Virginia, New York City. I get to see them face-to-face just twice a year for nine days during residency. For that reason alone, I’ve been looking forward to today. But, the program is so much more than that. The instructors, the seminars, the intensity of the learning process, the raw energy of being surrounded by other writers equally passionate about creative writing as I am? It’s intoxicating. It’s exhilarating. It’s nerdy writing camp for grown-up’s and it’s awesome!!

About a half hour before my train was scheduled to depart, I got an email from the director of my program stating that, because so many of the residency students and professors’ flights had been cancelled or delayed, today’s residency program had been cancelled. We’ll be jumping into Saturday classes on time tomorrow.

Well, Sugar Honey Iced Tea. That certainly does suck eggs. Glad I thought to check my email on last time before I took off.

Guess I’ll have to wait one extra day to see my friends again and experience the joy that is living, breathing, and eating all things devoted to the art and craft of creative writing. I still can’t wait.

In the meantime, since I feel I just need a few hours to recover myself, physically from lifting and throwing 15 to 25 lb loads of snow over and over again for a total of four of the past twenty-four hours, I thought I’d set up camp on my couch and blog about what it was like at my house during the Bombogenesis.

And by the way, please don’t be fooled by that term or by the giddy meteorologists dancing around up on top of big piles of snow singing the word at you. This Bombogenesis was just a typical New England Nor’easter with lower than typical temperatures. New Englanders are used to crazy and sometimes difficult to deal with weather. We deal with it.

Did the Beast of Bombogenesis impact you? Tell me about it in the comments.

January 5, 2018
Good News, Bad News, and Trouble in Writing Town

I’ve got a thirty-minute break before my next parent-teacher conference, so I thought I’d use this time to do some writing. I know I won’t be able to get any meaningful creative writing done, sandwiched as this moment is between long and stressful blocks of trying to calm down nervous parents and stressed-out students. My stress levels are elevated today, too. Not a great place to be, mentally, when you want the ideas to flow. The doors of my imagination just can’t swing freely on their hinges at the moment.

Since I’m currently stress-blocked and don’t feel up to generating anything creative right now, I figured I’d use this time to sneak in a blog post and try to unpack a problem that has been dogging me of late.

Creative Constipation

Over the past week, forward progress on my WIP has slowed to a snail’s pace. I need to figure out what’s going on. What has changed? What can I do to unblock myself?

You know how everyone always says stuff like, “You can’t edit a blank page,” or “The first draft is supposed to be terrible?” Of course, you do, if you’re a writer. It’s inescapable, especially during the month of NaNoWriMo. I firmly buy into those clichéd tidbits of advice. If I had more time (hahaha) I’d needlepoint it onto a cushion and then sit on that cushion as I wrote.

However, something happened on the 15th that seems to have changed things and not for the better. We (being the folks in Lesley University’s MFA in Creative Writing Program) received our mentor pairings for next semester. Fourth semester students (like me) work on one thing and one thing only: our creative theses. Or, in layman’s terms, we’ll be trying to shine up a reasonable draft of a book. Up until last week, I was feeling pretty good about that. Looking forward to it, in fact.

Good News, Bad News

Then, we got our pairings. Good news: I got my first choice for a mentor. The esteemed Chris Lynch, author of Inexcusable, Little Blue Lies, and Angry Young Man, and others. I also got my first pick for my Thesis Reader: Jason Reynolds, author of Patina, When I Was the Greatest, and All American Boys among other books. To invoke Chandler Bing, “Could I be more excited?” Maybe, but it would be difficult.

Anyway, I got that news and fist-pumped the sky, did a dance of joy, and then froze. Oh, sugar-honey-iced-tea. Chris Lynch and Jason Reynolds are going to see my story. Turns out the good news is also the bad news.

Here’s what that sudden, stark realization felt like. Imagine you’re at the grocery store, heading back to your car carrying two extremely heavy and overpacked bags of foodstuffs, and you’re feeling stoked because you hit some sweet sales and managed to stock up for the week and then some. You’re crossing a busy throughway in the parking lot when the bags let go. All at once, the bottoms rip wide open and vomit your stuff all over the pavement. Cans are rolling everywhere. The milk carton is ruptured. A white puddle expands at your feet. Dented boxes, broken eggs, bruised apples racing away, and cars coming at you from both directions. What you thought of just moments ago as an awesome bundle of tasty treats now looks like an embarrassing heap of trash.

My “book” now feels like those groceries lying broken and hopeless and ugly on the pavement, and Mr. Lynch and Mr. Reynolds are the drivers who have to stop and get out of their slick cars to help me to scrape all my crap up off the ground. They know how to bag groceries. This would never happen to them. I’m a schmuck, and now they have to deal with my foolishness.

Perception versus Reality

I’m not saying that’s my actual situation. Maybe my “book” isn’t as big a mess as all that, but that’s how it feels right now.

I’ve got this thing, this rough draft, and it’s terrible in all the ways that I usually tell myself a first draft is allowed to be. But…

Two authors whom I respect (and, okay yes, idolize) are about to put eyes on it. All of a sudden it no longer feels okay for my rough draft to be messy. I want to turn my work-to-date over to Chris, have him read it, and then get an email from him expounding upon how wonderful it is and how excited he is to help me cut and polish this diamond of a story.

I want that, but I don’t have a rough diamond to give him. I’ve got a pile of ruined groceries hastily scraped up off the blacktop, possibly destined for the garbage. And he’s going to judge me!

He’s not going to judge me.

The man is amazing. So is Jason, who will read my “finished” product at the end of this semester and either give it the thumbs up (I pass) or thumbs down (I still pass, but let it be known that I am a talentless hack). Every student who has worked with these two men has sung their praises.

The point is, I no longer feel okay with my rough draft being terrible. In my desire to impress two incredible authors, I’d want it to be perfect, spotless, shiny. Glittering to the point of blinding in its utter fabulousness. Is that too much to ask?

We’re Our Own Worst Critics

Yes, as it turns out. Perfection is too much to ask, and my self-imposed, unattainable new expectations have bogged down my writing process. My muse has curled up in the fetal position at my feet beneath my desk. She’s utterly useless under pressure, I guess. Meanwhile, I am getting hung up on every single sentence I try to write. Is this description strong enough? Are these verbs punchy enough? Am I rambling? Should I cut this? Do I need to elaborate here? Why’s there so much dialogue in this scene? What the H am I doing?

That’s me, snail-crawling along, doubting EVERYTHING about my writing and my characters and my story. Whereas I normally can pump out a solid 1,500 to 2,000 words a day, I’m now down to less than 500.

Which I guess would be okay if it weren’t for the fact that I’m supposed to turn in 13,000 words of new material on December 1st in preparation for my January residency. I’ve only got 6,200 words so far, and that has taken me almost two weeks to generate. And it’s all rough draft quality work.

Sigh.

This really should be an IWSG post, because I am feeling more insecure about my writing than I have probably ever felt before in my entire life. It’s cool. It’ll pass. I’ve doubted myself before this, and I always get over it…

Eventually.

Until then, I’ll continue to plug along and hope that, with the help of an incredibly talented (and patient–dear Freya, please let them be patient) mentor and reader, some of my groceries will turn out to be salvageable. Because what else can to do? It’s part of being an aspiring writer, right? I either quit now, or I push through the doubt and continue to dribble the words onto the paper.

Okey-dokey. Break time’s over. Back to the day job.

Has anyone else had nearly paralyzing moments of doubt brought on by the prospect of having a legitimately talented author/agent/editor reading your stuff? Please, tell me I’m not the only one.

November 21, 2017
My MFA in Creative Writing Program Explained

If you hadn’t heard, I’m getting my MFA in creative writing at Lesley University.

This week, my third semester wraps itself up as I claw my way toward the finish line and a degree. Technically, I should have finished up last week, on Friday to be exact. Life doesn’t always work out the way we envision it, though. Since I started this blog as a way to document the madness (check out my About page for more on that), I thought I’d write a post that gives my take on the program.

Lesley University’s Low Residency MFA in Creative Writing Program Explained:

Each semester kicks off with an intense–and I do mean intense–nine-day on-campus residency in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The summer residency happens in June. The winter residency happens in January.

I live just up the way in Salem, so I commute on the train. During the residency, which kicks off at 9am each morning and doesn’t wrap up until 8pm each night, I attend interactive workshops taught by creative writing faculty from one of five concentrations (Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, Writing for Young People <– that’s my concentration, and Graphic Novels). I also attend seminar lectures from visiting guests such

Mr. Reynolds, an incredible writer and mentor in our program

as Jo Knowles,  M. T. Anderson, and Jason Reynolds (who also teaches in the program) just to name three whom I particularly enjoyed.

Not to mention all the wonderful social time that happens each evening after the day’s classes and lectures wrap up. I’ve met so many talented, funny, wonderful, and supportive people at the two residencies I’ve attended thus far. If I’m lucky, I’ll stay in touch with some of these fine folks for the rest of my life.

Prior to each residency, I write and submit two creative pieces, each about 6,500 words long. A designated faculty member and other students workshop both of them. I have to say, there are so many things that I have loved about this program, but the critique workshops are my favorite. Not only do I get to read about six pieces of creative writing by others and practice my skills as I give feedback on them, but I get to receive nuanced and thoughtful feedback from six people who are as passionate about writing as I am.

As the on-campus residency wraps up, I work with my mentor to build a study-plan for the rest of my semester that will play out long-distance via email and texting and Facebook messaging, etc. It’s a personalized study plan based on what I think are my strengths and weaknesses as a writer, what my mentor sees as my strengths and weaknesses, and what my writing goals are in general (to become a famous, globetrotting novelist! Ha ha. *sigh* Just let me dream, okay?)

Break-down of Semesters 1 & 2: In a Word, Busy.

I take three classes, though it feels in practice like I’m only taking two. I’ll just treat it like I’m dealing with two classes. For my “main” class, I work with my mentor. Over the course of the semester, I read craft books and novels and write reflective or analytical essays about them. At the same time, I work on my own creative stuff. I submit my essays and my creative writing four times (once a month), and each time I get an in-depth analysis back from my mentor on what I did well and what I need to work on. As if that’s not enough to keep me busy, there’s that pesky second class I mentioned.

The second class is an interdisciplinary studies class, which means that since I’m in the

This is my final project for my first Interdisciplinary Class: The Artist’s Way. It’s supposed to be a collage representing my journey as a writer.

Writing For Young People concentration, I have to take something that ISN’T related to writing for young people. For my first semester, I took a class modeled after Julie Cameron’s Artist’s Way. I took a science fiction and fantasy class in my second semester that focused on the short story. This semester, I took a follow-up to the science fiction and fantasy class that focused on the novel.

For this second class, the I.S. class, I also have to read books, write reflective or analytical papers about them, and write my own creative stuff. All that stuff gets submitted four times per semester, too.

Sound like a lot? Yeah, it is.

It’s great, but it’s a lot. Cue the stress.

Ah, but that was just the first two semesters.

Semester 3: Odin, It Was Rough.

As I said, I’m wrapping up my third semester in this program. A week late, it’s true, but at least I’m finishing. Not everyone does. Third semester is notorious in this program for being insane.

In addition to managing all the work for my SFF novel-writing class (which has been off-the-hook outstanding, by the way), this is the semester when I had to write my big “craft essay.” Now, I want to pause here for a moment and say that the folks at Lesley really ought to call this our “Craft Thesis” since we aren’t allowed to graduate if we don’t write it.

This beast to which I am referring takes the place of reading a couple of books and write a 2-4 page reflective paper about them four times during the semester. Instead, we have to pick a craft topic of our own choosing, research the holy heck out of it, and write a 12-18 page paper on the topic.

What did I choose to research? Glad you asked. In an attempt to marry my two great loves

in life–biology and creative writing–I elected to write a research paper exploring the neuroscience behind writing that “hooks” readers.

Look at all those scientific articles about neuroscience and reading!

Sounds pretty rad, am I right?

It was, but don’t forget that while I was doing all that research [shudders at the thought of all that research], I was also writing and submitting about 24,000 words of my own creative writing spread out over four submission cycles.

Semester 4: The Future Looks Bright

I submitted my craft essay (they really should call that sucker a “Craft Thesis” to give it the psychological weight it deserves) last Monday and cheered. I’ll be submitting my last batch of creative stuff on Wednesday, and I am looking toward the horizon with a sense of optimism steeped, perhaps, in a bit of denial. It would be nice to get at least a couple of weeks of down time to catch my breath, but we just got the email with instructions on how to format or workshop pieces, which are due December 1st.

Yikes!

Fourth semester is the one in which I devote 100% of my attention on my “Creative Thesis.” This is the culminating creative project, the thing that showcases my supposed mastery of writing fiction (for young people, mind you). No pressure. No problem.

Did I mention that my right eye has been twitching for the past week? No kidding. It really has.

Books I’m reading to inform my creative thesis this semester.

Fourth semester will be great. I’ll have no I.S. class competing for my time and attention. I’ll have no analytical craft essays to write, big or small. It’ll just be me and my book and my mentor trying to help me make it not suck so bad. I’ll need to put together 100 to 150 polished pages of a YA novel that I and the program administrators won’t be embarrassed by. I think this is doable?

Technically, I already have 150 pages of my Creative Thesis written. As of last night, Scrivener informed me that I’ve got 159 pages, to be exact. The problem is… oh, there are so many problems. The biggest problem is that, from a structural standpoint, Under the Purple Sky is a hot mess. I attempted to tell a YA sci-fi survival story in the first person POV via two different timelines that weave together as readers experience the main character’s psychological ruin during a global disaster that wipes out 99% of the human species, and her tentative road to recovery three years later. Ugh.

I’ve got my work cut out for me. But, I remain hopeful. It will be nice to be able to focus on just one single project for a full semester, and if I play my cards right, I’ll walk away from all of this in July with a degree. I might even have a decent draft of a book, too. That, however, remains to be scene… er, seen. Ha, ha.

So, that’s what I’ve been up to this past year-and-a-half.

If you are curious about Lesley’s Creative Writing program, specifically their low residency program, feel free to ask in the comments. I’m a subject sample of n=1, but I’m happy to share my experiences thus far.

November 6, 2017
#IWSG – Adding Personal Details to Stories?

It’s the first Wednesday of the month, and you know what that means. Or, well, maybe you don’t. It’s #IWSG Day! The question this month is…

Have you ever slipped any of your personal information into your characters, either by accident or on purpose?

I sure have, but first, allow me to drop a plug for IWSG. The Insecure Writer’s Support Group, founded by the esteemed Alex J. Cavanaugh, is an online space where writers (insecure and otherwise) can come together to share stories, successes, struggles, and all the rest of it. The website is chock-o-block full of great stuff. There’s a Twitter Pitch, which I haven’t checked out yet, contests, books, swag, conferences, and more. Be sure to jump over there and check them out!

Okay, back to the question. I often work personal information into my writing on purpose, but sometimes I do it unintentionally, too.

Here’s an example of when personal stuff just sort of slips in there when I’m not paying attention. This past winter, during one of my critique sessions for my Lesley University Low-Residency master’s program, someone pointed out that my main character sounded like she was from the Midwest. The story being workshopped was something I’d discovery written. I hadn’t generated any character dossiers and hadn’t fleshed out a background for anyone.

The comment left me agape. You see, despite the fact that was born and raised in Massachusetts and am surrounded by Bostonians with the classically difficult to imitate accent, I’ve been told multiple times that I don’t sound like I’m from the area. In fact, people often tell me I’ve got a midwestern accent and drop midwestern slang. I chalk that up to the my father’s influence. He was born and raised on a farm in Iowa, and we visited his family often when I was a kid.

Who knew my father had shaped my psyche so deeply that it was affecting my writing! In any case, I decided to have my main character be a girl who grew up on a farm in… you guessed it, Iowa. Why not just roll with it, right? So now my dad is a teenage girl fighting for her life in the Canadian wilderness. Fabulous!

More often, personal information makes its way into my stories on purpose. I’ve written stories that take place in my hometown, at my place of work, or that involve events I’ve lived directly. All fictionalized to varying degrees, mind you.

My current WIP is a young adult SciFi horror story about a group of youths trying to survive the elements (and other things) in the backcountry of Canada. As a teen, I was a wilderness backpacking enthusiast, and a couple of times I and my group members found ourselves in genuinely dangerous situations. I’ve incorporated fictionalized versions of those events in my WIP.

So, yeah, I draw on my life experiences to add authenticity to everything I write.

What about you? Do you slip personal details into your writing? How do you feel about it?

October 4, 2017
Beating the Cold Season with Some Good Books!

Every September, I get back into the classroom and, within a month, I catch a cold. I blame my students. They get it first, and then they proceed to coat every surface they touch with their contagion. Last year, the virus took up residence deep in my chest and overstayed its welcome by about six weeks. It was vicious. Several of my colleagues and even a few of my students developed secondary pneumonia. Thankfully, my family and I live in a state of lightly controlled squalor, so we’ve got exposure theory on our side. Our immune systems are primed and ready for battle, but I’ve got a secret weapon in my battle against the common cold: books!

And yet, here I am, all hopped up on cold meds (this might be a very interesting post), holed up in bed while the rest of the fam shares hot-wings and watches the Patriots game on TV. Now that I think of it, perhaps there are some perks to catching the annual back-to-school cold.

Books (in all forms) Make Everything Better!

Just look at all those lovely books!

If you’re anything like me, your “to read” list grows faster than your “have read” list does. One of the original Twilight Zone episodes that haunts me the most is “Time Enough At Last,” starring Burgess Meredith as a guy who just wants to be left alone so he can read his books. I won’t spoil the episode because it’s available on Amazon Prime (you should watch it), but the ending is tragic in a way that only a bibliophile can fully grasp.

Audiobooks have become a staple in my life these days, too. I check them out from my library, and I buy them via Audible.com. Whenever I’m in the car or out for a walk, I’m listening to a book. My students helpfully showed me how to overclock the reading speed to 1.25x, which shaves about 2.5 hours off of a 10-hour book. It’s amazing.

That said, as great as listening to books can be, it’s not quite the same as reading them myself.

I am a slow reader. A pathetically slow reader. And, since I’ve started up the Masters in Creative Writing program at Lesley University, my reading speed has slowed even further. Now I find myself reading at two levels. I used to read for the simple pleasure of getting lost in the story. Now, I pay close attention to word choice, verbs, description, pacing, syntax, structure, flow, et cetera. In other words, I read with a writer’s eye, which slows me down.

My current bout with the rhinovirus isn’t nearly as bad as last year. Last year, I felt like I was dying. This year, I just feel like someone has stuffed my sinuses with a soggy loaf of bread. Not pleasant, but it could be worse. It didn’t stop me from getting out to Barnes & Noble yesterday for a YA book event where I grabbed myself a few ARCs to read… eventually… when I find the time. (That’s them in the photo at the top of this post.)

Here’s what I’m currently reading!

I might be guilty of exaggerating my misery slightly so that my spouse keeps the kids at bay, but I’m not completely faking. I am in bed with a sinus headache, and I do have to rest up so that I can make it through teaching my classes next week.

But really, I just want to snuggle in and cherish this rare opportunity to READ!

Books make everything better. Aren’t they great? Have you ever used books to get through something unpleasant, like cold season?

September 24, 2017
I Teach, I Write, I Parent, I Busy!

Excuse me, Miss Granger? Could I borrow that time turner for a moment?

Yeah, Yeah, I know. We’re all busy. We all wear a lot of different hats in life. I teach, I write, and I parent. It doesn’t always happen in that particular order. Priorities shift daily. Time bleeds out of my as if I’ve severed some existential artery. Last night, I fell into bed at 9:00pm like a corpse. This morning I woke feeling not much livelier than an awkwardly reanimated corpse. Why in the name of Odin am I so tired?!

That was the question I had on my brain when I sat down to do my morning pages. [side note: I’m back at Julie Cameron’s self-guided course The Artist’s Way. Journaling daily in the mornings is part of the program]

…anyway, I just could not understand the level of fatigue plaguing me this morning after getting an amazing eight full hours of sound sleep last night. Is my thyroid slowing down? Am I developing a vitamin D deficiency (again)? Could low-grade depression triggered by the start of a new school year be the culprit? What? What am I missing?

So, I recapped this past week, I wrote everything out on paper. Once I saw it all, I was flabbergasted but had my answer. I am busy! Like, Hermione Granger with her time turner level busy.

Between lesson planning forward a few weeks (necessary to keep me from completely losing my mind) for three different high school science courses, scoring varsity volleyball games, prepping way too many solutions for a diffusion and osmosis lab, doing one-on-one check-in’s and phone calls with my new advisees and their parents, attending my bi-monthly meeting for the North Shore Writer’s Group, getting my eldest to Scouts, and meeting my Friday submission deadline for the Widgets & Wizards novel-writing class I’m taking as part of my graduate studies, I was in near constant motion. And, like a complete goober, I decided to start lightly restricting the ridiculous volumes of food I was shoving into my face so I might stand a chance of losing a bit of the weight I put on during my first year of grad school (you know, so I can fit back into my work clothes and not look obscene).

The start of a new school year always knocks me down for a few days. It’s the sudden shift in mental alertness that does it. This year, though, this year I feel like I’ve got a brutal case of jet lag mixed with seasonal allergies and a touch of the flu. And the load doesn’t look like it’s going to be lightening up any time soon. This coming week is even busier than last week was. Tonight it’s a PTO meeting. Tomorrow I’ll be back at the volleyball scoring table, and Thursday night I’ll be leaving the house at 7:00am and returning home from my teaching day at 9:00 pm thanks to it being “Parent’s Visiting Night.”

If I’m going to make my next submission deadline, I’m going to have to be on my organizational A-game. Part of that means MAKING TIME TO WRITE! Parenting might have to take a back seat to the teaching and writing this week. Thank Thor I’ve got a loving and supportive spouse who, because they’re a creative individual who went back to school to study their specific creative medium, understands and supports me and is willing to step in and pick up the slack when necessary. And this week it will be very, very necessary.

Last night, I added another 800+ words to my WIP. Today, I need to match that or do even better. I got a very encouraging note from my mentor this morning saying I’d nailed my MC’s voice in my last submission, so I’m feeling optimistic that I’m on the right track.

As for writing, [deep breath, cracks knuckles, swigs coffee], here we go.

What times in your year do things tend to pile up on you?

September 12, 2017