I’m still missing one answer but every place else has been pretty much a bust, so you can imagine all manner of brave faces and awesome Plans B I’ve been making. And for the most part, perhaps, I was thoroughly convinced that should the last answer be similarly a bust, I’d be okay. I still am thoroughly convinced of that. Except someone forgot to tell my subconscious.
I woke up this morning in a cold, heart-pounding sweat because I’d just had this wonderful dream. I dreamt that I was walking though some plaza here in Midtown when I realized I held in my arms a bundle of mail. So I stopped at one of those ubiquitous corporate planters and sorted through it, only to find an envelope the size of my torso with NYU written across it. I tore it open and I was crying from joy before I even read the letter confirming my acceptance. I stood there at this planter, crying my eyes out from relief and exhiliration and I was too stunned and happy to even find my cell phone and call Stuart, my parents, everyone else I know in some phone tree of jubilation. I was in! I had a plan! I’d had faith and it worked! I stood there crying and flipping through sheafs of paper, and crying even more.
And then I woke up mid-dream-sob. And it hit me with hurricane force that it’d been a dream, and also that the NyQuil I took last night hadn’t worn off. I’ve never been more disconsolate or exhausted by the sheer concept of getting out of bed. I showered in a daze. I dressed in a daze. I’m still in a daze, feeling like both hands briefly grabbed an electric current and the thunder thump of shock is still in my chest, reverberating around my ribcage. What a wonderful, terrible dream.
So I guess we can stop pretending, and by we, I mean me. I obviously still want this. Everyone I love and adore (and that includes most of you) has been thoughful and positive enough to point out that I don’t really need this to write. And you’re right, and you’re wrong. I may not need it – all I need is the perseverance and persistence. But I wanted it, because it takes about 10% off the hard edge of the road. It makes the process 10% easier, and I will admit to being weak and human and wanting that 10% break very much. The dream knocked aside all my coatings of courage and resolve and reminded me just how incredibly happy an acceptance letter would make me.
In short, today is going to be another long day.
You don’t know me, of course, so please forgive what must look like incredible effrontery.
But I am an academic by trade. Can I offer some unsolicited advice? First, and most importantly, please believe the people who tell you that you are already a writer. We are only the tip of an iceberg. I am sure this blog has numerous readers who never comment (I read faithfully for over two years before I did, for example), and people wouldn’t be doing that if it didn’t showcase good writing. I also wandered over to the Gothamist and read some of your reviews. You can write.
Second, if the last application does not pan out, or if NYU is really your MFA of choice, apply again. But drop by with a copy of your application and ask them to critique it with an eye toward making it more successful. Teachers live for this kind of thing. Perhaps your samples didn’t showcase what you can obviously do. Associate a face with the application.
Have you investigated any programs that would allow you to complete at least part of the requirements without residency? There is a program at Queens University in Charlotte, NC, that would give you a respectable 2-year MFA with only a few weeks devoted to actually being here in the South.
As I said, unsolicited advice.
But please don’t let this process dent your self-esteem as a writer. Your ability and your degree are not synonymous.
Well, I think you’re a great writer who inspires with her writing. If you still want to go to an MFA program, apply again next year; I’m sure they’ll take you. Steve Almond was rejected his first year, and then applied to eight schools his second year and was accepted to three. I applied to one my first year, rejected by it, then applied to eight my second year, and was accepted to one. I’d say, take a workshop through Gotham Writing Group or another group and work on your manuscript until next fall. It will come around sooner than you think.
I know you know you’re a writer and I know you don’t neccessarily need a pep talk, just a goddamn acceptance letter, already but:
1) Frillions of readers cannot be wrong. Seriously. Your mention of my blog the other day sent legions of readers over to my space. We cannot all be wrong.
2) I think all the Brilliants have been rejected at one point, but Brilliance is shiny and rare and must eventually be recognized.
Thinking of you.
So I just interviewed this amazing female cartoonist, and her strip, angry little girls, http://www.angrylittlegirls.com, was rejected for syndication by like, EVERY SINGLE NEWSPAPER IN THE WHOLE COUNTRY.
But you know what?
Then she published a book and it was ok. W
So, screw the schools, who knows what else is around the corner?
I had a dream like that when I was applying for academic jobs. My dream employer offered me the job by sending arrangement after arrangement of flowers, with notes saying how excited they were that I was joining them. It made me so happy. My dreams are usually bizarre or nightmares, not beautiful dreams of recognition and accomplishment.
I didn’t get the job, but luckily it was a month or so later, so I could bask in the dream a little longer. Nothing wrong with a beautiful dream, regardless of the outcome.
If you can stand more advice from people you don’t know–I just wanted to chime in to agree that if you don’t get in this year you should definitely apply again next year. It’s a numbers game–many talented writers, only a few spots at each school. The numbers may be in your favor next year. Also, keep in mind the theory that while MFA programs can indeed teach you important things about writing, you can also learn those things by taking classes other places, and by forming writing groups with other working writers. Another thing–I know a number of people (including myself, to some degree) who wonder if their writing would be better (more creative, less constricted by thoughts about what good writing is supposed to be) if they hadn’t spent so much time in workshops. Just something to think about.
Hi Krissa!
(We met last night at Cringe – I’m Penni’s friend)
I just wanted to tell you that I got my rejection letter from NYU’s MFA program last week or the week before (and my application went in just under the deadline) – so maybe it’s a good sign that you haven’t heard yet.
Also, I’m sure you know this, but the acceptance criteria for this kind of program is SO random and subjective (I thought I was a shoo-in at NYU and had no chance in hell at the program that accepted me). So heed the try-again advice others are leaving here. I know that’s probably not terribly comforting right now. But you’ve clearly got the perseverence down, and that’s the most important part.
And, I know those Nyquil hangovers. The absolute worst.
xo
I had a dream like that last year, that I got a teaching job in my own classroom. Then I woke up, and here I am subbing again.
I know how disappointing those kinds of dreams are.
Thinking of you!
From my perspective, you’re one of the most blessed girls I’ve ever met, so I’m taking it for granted. Congratulations on your acceptance into NYU!!
Oh, Krissa. We’re pulling for you. Something great is going to come from this, either way. I mean, you said Plan B involves puppies, right?
Wishing the best news,
Emily
Just a bit more encouragement from a complete and total stranger. Last year I applied to Teacher’s College and got the dreaded “small envelope” from EVERY SINGLE ONE. I was gutted. But it was something that I really wanted and so I re-applied this year, made time in my schedule to volunteer at a school and applied to a few more schools slightly out of my comfort zone. And you know what? I got in to more than one of the schools who just one year ago said “thanks but no thanks” to me. I know it’s not the same situation and I know that it doesn’t change how you’re feeling right now, but I wanted to let you know that sometimes it takes longer than you might want it to but it can happen.
More unsolicited thoughts, but I went through exactly what you’re going through right now. Specifically, I went through it three springs in a row, because I just kept trying. You know the thing that they say that it’s about who you know and who writes your letters of recommendation? There’s a lot to be said for having an in, and I firmly believe that Iowa would accept John Irving today if he just sent in a manuscript under an assumed name and three letters from very solid but boring academic sources. Really, it’s not a reflection on your talent but rather a reflection on an imperfect admissions system. Here’s what you can do, if you’re really serious about making this happen: take a writing workshop at the school you want to attend, or take a workshop with someone who might have a connection to the school you want to attend. This way, you’re potentially earning credits toward the MFA, you’re getting a chance to have your manuscript evaluated and you can ask the professor to write a letter of recommendation for you. This is what I did, and despite having one of the three deciding committee members write one of my letters (and express shock that I had any kind of trouble getting into his program in the first place), I was accepted to the program that I really wanted in the first place. I still have no idea why I wasn’t accepted the first two times, and the work of my fellow MFA students? Some of it is pretty terrible. I’m absolutely positive some of them got in because they were someone’s nephew/babysitter/strawberry.
Good luck with that outstanding envelope, and if it is tiny, just remember that this is not the end if you really want it.
Hi Krissa,
Another long-time reader on your side in this. Applying to law school two years ago reminded me so much of being the last pick on softball teams of summers gone by: there are some forms of rejection even grape Big League Chew gum won’t cure. The Internet believes in you, it seems, and you should listen: keep writing, sister!
In any case, I’m glad you’ve got friends and family (and a wonderful husband) close by to remind you of who they know you to be.
Warm regards from sunny London.
Weetabix…how can someone be someone else’s Strawberry?
That was an interesting sentence.
What they said. (Except the strawberry thing, because I didn’t understand that part either).
You are what you are. No assembly required. Enjoy it.
A strawberry is someone who exchanges sex for something, most of the time drugs. I was being crude. Also, I want to clarify that I had a typo: I DON’T think John Irving could get into Iowa with just a manuscript and a solid but boring set of recommendation letters.
Also, Simon had a good point about low residency MFA’s. One such low residency program, Bennington, isn’t too far away for you, and then Amy Hempel could be your professor.