Tag Archives: MFA

What Writers Look Like (at AWP)

Cynthia Kraack Posted on by

Roughly fourteen thousand people connected to the writing world gather each year for an amazing conference organized by AWP. Big names, wannabes, teachers who never published a word, agents, publicists, publishers, editors, illustrators, students all sort themselves into attending five hundred sessions over three days and circle through the book fair, a gigantic assortment of booths hawking books, dreams, courses and services.

cynthia_kraack_headshotIf available sessions don’t meet your needs, people watching will fill the seventy-five minutes. Young and middle-age flesh in Lycra, baggy tunics and barely there shirts, tats, piercing and orthopedic shoes march up and down halls in pursuit of becoming better writers or associated professionals. Lots of black clothes, a good helping of interesting hats, messenger sacks, backpacks, miniscule purses and a few corporate bags file pass by. Individuals on the brink of completing graduate degree programs practice interview greetings in quiet hallways. Academic jobs are almost as scarce as generous advance payments. Writers whisper their way through paragraphs in preparation for the enviable opportunity of reading on the many stages of AWP official and offsite events.

The fifty-something sitting on the aisle could be a published bestseller, or a creative director at an ad agency with a manuscript in their home office and big dreams, or a community creative writing teacher hoping to re-invigorate lesson plans. The thin young woman with wonderful wild hair might be story editor for a literary publication, or marketing herself as a social media specialist, or a graduate student beginning the process of finding her place in this world. She might be working for a community college next year, or for an insurance company, or writing her first collection of poems while caring for her first child.

That’s what writers look like—teachers, fathers, the kid next door, the person sitting next to you on the bus. Everyone at AWP has a story to tell or skills to make that story better, more widely known, sent back for another revision. Pace yourselves these next few days at the conference. Sip that trendy Thai-style tea and find your next story’s character talking to a short, but handsome, man across the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life According to Facebook

Cynthia Kraack Posted on by

A former classmate avoids the MFA program reunion. Her writing career isn’t developing like life according to Facebook. In the five years since graduating, others have published, found full-time academic positions, received recognition. Her achievements, while quite nice, feel small. She’s talented. Her peers and faculty think she will be successful.

The Stonecoast MFA Program in Creative Writing of the University of Southern Maine is not a competitive hotbed. It is a rigorous, yet mellow, graduate school experience that supports each individual student. By graduation night, a quarter of my class of twenty had published a book-length work. A few were teachers who completed the degree with no intentions of publishing. Some only hoped to graduate.  We wouldn’t see half the class on Facebook. When we did see the other half, they would have BIG news of their achievements.

How to calibrate success in the arts is very personal. I assemble an annual plan and define why each activity supports my goals. If a year goes by with nothing to publicly recognize, I have a private sense of accomplishment. This year my plan is a mixture of wishes, hard facts and aggressive timelines.

In month seven I have blogged less than I intended, entered a novel into competition that was not planned, walked away from my teaching strategy, and am on track to get a fourth novel to my publisher in early November. I’ve also written three good short stories, became a board member for a new writing center opening in Door County, Wisconsin. The year feels okay. What does bother me is if I was relying on my creative writing to feed the family, we’d be hungry. I still earn more on one freelance project than royalties. That’s rough.

My son, a piano teacher and performer, works at a music school and as faculty at a summer musical theater camp, accepts a lot of  gigs, and collects handfuls of 1099s each year to live the artistic life he has designed. His definition of success is a blend of artistic recognition, creative freedom and financial independence. At his age I was climbing the corporate ladder while trying to ignore the need to create artistically. I’m not sure I could have faced the multiple insecurities of the writer’s life at his age. Not all reviews are good, a book can be well received and not sell big numbers, lots of publishing doesn’t pay. Gulp.

Being a writer, musician, or potter offers no guarantees except lots of work with the slim possibility of public recognition.  There is a definite element of luck in our success.  The Donal Ryan story of 47 rejections before being published, then making the Booker Prize long list, is not unusual. I am so grateful for my writing and artist friends who keep my dreams both realistic and aggressive.  Maybe next year I’ll have the breakthrough novel or publish a Pushcart nomination short story. If not, I’ll still be a published author with a plan to keep me pushing through the rough days. How to gather a bushel of good luck remains a mystery.

Keep writing. Surround yourself with those who understand. Go to your reunion. Carry a good luck charm. When you have good news, brag it up on Facebook. We’ll all cheer.

 

 

Redesign the MFA?

Cynthia Kraack Posted on by

One message from the halls of AWP 2012: Writers are now responsible for developing their unique following long before sending a first query. Publishers and editors told session attendees that good writing on its own is not enough to land that first contract. A writer must have a positive electronic presence including impressive numbers of followers on Facebook or Twitter, activity which is being used as a surrogate for customers ready to buy their book.

In the sales world the ratio of cold calls to meetings to qualified prospects to an actual sale is data analyzed then used to develop strategic marketing plans. Experts in social marketing know the sales net must be thrown significantly further to land a customer. More than one published writer has been disappointed to find that hundreds of Facebook friends didn’t really equate to hundreds of book sales. How to turn social media contacts into active customers may be a puzzle solved by the big internet marketers, but still is a mystery to most small publishers.

Today I began writing about ten key messages discovered during AWP. Beyond a significant number of sessions devoted specifically to social media, the topic crept into many presentations. But I sensed a bigger question: What in the traditional MFA curriculum prepares writers for this new expectation of developing a strong potential audience while mastering their craft? How many courses do MFA students take where they learn marketing skills—identifying potential markets and developing strategies? If publishers would rather accept a pretty good manuscript from an author with a thousand friends on Facebook, an attractive blog and hundreds of Twitter followers than a great manuscript from someone with more normal social media presence, shouldn’t MFA programs be paying attention?

Medical schools learned late in the game that their graduates would have to be astute business professionals in an environment controlled by big insurance or healthcare corporations. Amazon, Apple, and others have pushed the publishing world into a similar situation. The discussion has moved writers from artist to producers of possibly profitable content. Listen to debut writers talk about publishers’ expectations that the writers maintain market excitement for their books.

How to bring this reality into the MFA world could be as simple as offering solid course material on today’s publishing business, as creative as requiring that graduates display social media competency, or as innovative as collaborative ventures with other academic areas. At the least, MFA programs owe it to their students to provide space for individuals to discover their own definition of success as a writer along with faculty-led guidance for how to build a course of study to support those goals. Schools have proven they can help talented people produce amazing creative work. Getting that work to into readers’ hands needs different support.