![]() I attended an MFA program directly after graduating from college, largely because I knew, right then, that I had the time I might not otherwise find later in life. How you organize that time is largely up to you. There are writers that must attend to their day jobs, families, or other responsibilities simultaneously, too, so I think it’d be reasonable to say the workload is going to be as intense as you make it, especially since much of the time will be spent outside of class, too, working on your writing. There are low-residency MFA programs if attending full-time isn’t a viable option. But as much pleasure as there is in teaching, that also adds to the workload, especially if you’re new to teaching and thus trying to find the balance between planning, grading, mentoring and doing your own work. Having to think about distilling and gathering information, to think about methods of explaining and teaching writing to someone else, makes you examine that subject more closely, perhaps more analytically, too. Some programs offer stipends in exchange for teaching courses, which is a great opportunity, especially when you get to teach the subject you’re most interested in, be it fiction or poetry or non-fiction. Programs also vary in their requirements-some ask you to take a certain number of literature courses along with your writing classes, and so on. ![]() ![]() A shorter program will by necessity mean you’d need to finish your thesis-usually a book-that much sooner. Now, can you tell us a little about the workload of a typical MFA program? WOW: I’m sure that the workshop atmosphere of an MFA program helps keep you writing. So you have to be disciplined or give yourself the day or week or month off, as need be, and keep writing, which I’m doing. Once you leave a program you no longer have that built-in workshop that meets regularly (unless you go out and seek such a workshop again through some other means, usually informally, among colleagues) and you no longer have an artificial deadline about when a poem is due. What I can say that I took from the experience, apart from meeting people and being enriched by the environment and the usual things like that, was the knowledge that I am capable of continuing. I’m one of those single-minded people that knew what they wanted to do starting from the first grade, so I might have become a writer through some other means even if I hadn’t pursued an MFA, though it might have been a more circuitous route. Karen: In terms of career-I’m not sure what it’s done for me. What did getting your MFA do for your writing and your writing career? What did you take away from it? You have an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Minnesota. WOW: The deeper a writer delves into the literary world, the more she hears about this mysterious degree called the Master of Fine Arts. (By the way, keep an eye out in our August issue for an interview with Karen discussing writing poetry and getting it published.) ![]() ![]() Karen Rigby, recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship and author of the forthcoming chapbook of poetry, Savage Machinery, shared with me some of her insight into the costs and benefits of Master of Fine Arts writing programs. There is a cost though, in time and money, to pursuing and achieving an MFA. It sounds great to once again learn and stretch my mind in a rigorous classroom setting. Perhaps I’m somewhat addicted to school, but I am very tempted by the lure of a Master of Fine Arts degree in writing. ![]()
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