No MFA for me
Oh, hi friends!
So I did not get into the MFA Playwriting program that I applied to a few months ago. And I wanted to share a few thoughts and things I’ve learned.
I’ve been surfing message boards and Facebook groups for prospective graduate students. (How very 2000s of me!) Every applicant talks about their numbers: if someone says 3a/2w/4r that means three acceptances, two waitlists, four rejections. They talk about moving across the country for their dream school, or ask which might be the best program for them. They talk about funding and FAFSA and career prospects. Most of them, as far as I can tell, are in their early twenties. Everyone is so beautifully supportive — cheering on strangers suffering through their fourth application cycle or spelling out a commiserative “you’ll get ‘em next time.” They are so nice.
And I don’t belong there. Not right now.
It’s not because I’m too old or less talented. But looking at the math, it doesn’t add up. I didn’t apply to a dozen schools. I applied to one. Which happens to be about a 10-minute cab ride from my apartment.
I think what I was looking for the most were very rigid and clear bumper lanes.
This will be your life for two years.
This will be your community.
This is your schedule.
These are your classes.
Freelancing and working for myself for the past, oh, nine years has not come with bumper lanes. Some weeks you get gutter balls. Some months you throw straight strikes. Most of the time you catch a couple pins and just hope the ball keeps returning to you.
It’s exciting, creative, and...tiring. And I really wanted someone to tell me what to do, for once. (And that’s OK!) But by last week, when I heard back, I also felt…relieved? Closure erases the burden of waiting.
This isn’t to say I won’t apply again. (My play was a “semifinalist,” whatever that means!) But more than anything, this process has reminded me of what I already have. Of what I want and don’t want. Of who I already know.
And this is why we must apply and try and make the big swings and take the failures and show up again and again.
The ball will always return to you.
Bumpers or no bumpers.
Keep throwing.
“A lot of your 20s is developing the gut that says no to the good so you can say yes to the great.”
A little reread of this Lin-Manuel Miranda interview about creative process is perfection!
A bonus quote:
"Transitions are almost always signs of growth, but they can bring feelings of loss. To get somewhere new, we may have to leave somewhere else behind."
—Fred Rogers
That's a bit of inspiration from Brass Ring reader Brittany. Thank you!! Submit your own bits of inspiration here.
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Thanks, as always, for reading.
Love, Kara