essays malaise

tomorrow is the day i'm finishing up the last 4 of my essays, and i can say with relative authority that writing the personal essay/statement of purpose/ goals assessment/ whatever the school wishes to call it is the most difficult part of the application. to me, they're all the same. that is to say, i am using the same method to write each essay. Vince Gotera's article has been a humongous influence on my method. consequently, i think i wrote a damn good essay because of it.

ay, but there are some of my schools that don't fit in this paradigm. they want specific questions addressed. they have word count limit. or a page limit. or they want me to write an essay on what graduate study means to me. which excludes part of the applicant pool who, like me, already have a graduate degree. what does it mean to me? it means i already got my graduate degree. (woo hoo?) but that's not what an MFA degree means to me.

what i want to write about is the passion i get from writing. putting words down on a page and change something. change myself? the reader? i don't care.

part of me wants to write something to make someone go, "what the hell? is this writer messing with me?" someone actually said this in a writing group recently. the workshopper wrote in the margin, "i wonder if you are messing with our heads." it was a fantastic compliment. if i can make you think twice about something i wrote, make you wonder whether the character is sexy or weird, tangible or a dream, trustworthy or a liar, then i think that's good. i've done what i want to do. that's where my passion is. getting better at messing with people's heads.

because i'm not a scientist or a philosopher or a filmmaker or a politician, this is my only platform to get people thinking. as much as i'd love to be the next jk rowling or charlaine harris or stephanie meyer (no offense to any of those writers),  i'd rather be the next amy hempel or raymond carver or shirley jackson. hell, shirley jackson had piles of hate mail sent to her when she published "the lottery" in the new yorker in 1948 (detailed in come along with me). i want that response. i spend way too much personal time attempting to please other people. writing allows me to piss them off. is that what shirley had in mind? i'd like to think so.

anyway, back to essays. 8 down, 4 to go.

tiny apology to the interwebs

...for the last post's mopey tone. i swear, the time i spend handwringing and fretting could be spent on more constructive things like, say, writing. nevertheless, i was in a dark mood for a few days. i try to keep the mood of this blog light because...well, i'm usually in a good mood. i suppose the stress of finalizing a book, perfecting my portfolio, entering submissions, working 10 hour work days, writing/editing essays, studying for the GRE, and organizing all the application materials for 12 highly selective writing programs had gotten to me.

but the dread fog has lifted after a great phone conversation with one of my old professors from JMU. he was writing the recommendation letter for my application to Vanderbilt and he remembered being impressed by a research paper i wrote for a film adaptations class he taught. it caught me off guard, and i mean that in the best way possible. it also made me feel so grateful and lucky to have people that support me in this insane endeavor of mine. my friends and family, my former and current instructors,  my fellow writers, and my coworkers have all been understanding and unbelievably generous in their efforts to help me follow my dream. complaining should be the last thing on my mind.

and so, it is. even if i don't get into any programs, i'll feel like i gave it my best shot. others think i am good enough of a writer for this opportunity,  and that's something i am proud of. 

you know what? screw it, i'm going to give myself a pat on the back. right now.

there, just did it. it worked in 1st grade and it still works 23 years later.