What made you choose your MFA program?

I chose NYU because it was the “best” program option I had. What was my criteria for “best”? I liked the building (LOL). The building was gorgeous, and something felt very grand about it (possibly all the ego stored in those walls!!). I never thought I’d live in New York; my sister had been there for ten years at the time, and I never liked it, then lo and behold, I ended up there. Other options would’ve taken me to Boston or Arkansas. I was born in Boston but was very young when we moved so I don’t really have any attachment to the city, and I was concerned about the Arkansas heat. 

Of course, I was also cognizant of program “ratings.” I have a hyper-competitive streak in me that I really try to hide or repress; it’s something I hate about myself, but I figure transparency is better than pretending it doesn’t exist. So I also took into account program reputations, and NYU was the “top,” program, according to rankings or whatever, I got into. I was also lucky to visit each of the 3 schools, and the class I sat in on at NYU was the most exciting; I was floored by what I then perceived as the brilliance of the students and staff, and felt enamored by the idea of joining that community.

I really liked some aspects of the other programs I visited, and sometimes wonder what would’ve happened had I chosen differently. I do think I would have had more intimate mentorship, but that’s an impossible line of questioning to go down.

When you were applying to MFAs, how many programs did you apply to and did you have any sort of an application strategy?

Oh gosh, I applied to a silly number, like 17. I got into 2 and was waitlisted (then admitted) to one more. I was very green and was not in touch with anyone who had done a creative writing MFA. I was living in Seattle at the time, where the wonderful writing center Hugo House is based. They have a “Poet in Residence” program that the public can take advantage of for free; in 2015, the poet in residence was the incomparable Anastasia Renee, and they were central in helping me prepare my application. Funny enough, Anastasia doesn’t even have an MFA, as they came up before the big MFA boom. 

Workshop is funny; especially at first, it’s hard to gauge what feedback actually means, how to take it, who to take it from, who your audience is. I think for hyper-academic people like myself (aka very anxious and “good students,”), there’s this desire to have everyone like the poem, which is not only impossible, but actually not even desirable.

At any rate, my strategy was similar to how I’d historically approached university applications, which was/is: neurotic, hyper-organized, and obsessive. I made complicated spreadsheets and researched endlessly. Truthfully, I was also extremely depressed and was hyper-fixating on applications, which is… fine. I needed something to pour my energy into.

I applied primarily to completely funded programs, with a couple of exceptions.

I looked a bit at the faculty, but I was so fresh to the poetry world that that was not my driving motivation. Now, faculty would be my number one priority, along with accessibility, but back then I sort of just wanted anyone to take me. 

How did you choose your advisory/mentor? Did that choice change over time? If so, why?

I chose my advisor because I felt, at the time, the most simpatico with her teaching style, her sharpness, and her feedback. She is also the professor I observed in my class visit when I was deciding on programs, so it was a “full circle” moment. I had asked previously-graduated students about their advisors, so I was trying to gather data and make a choice based on both my gut feeling as well as others’ feedback. The advisor I chose was actually not my “favorite” professor at NYU, but I felt she would be best at bringing my work together into a thesis I was proud of. 

At NYU, thesis advisors often take on 3-4 students, so I was amongst a formidable group of 3 other women. Like, these women are incredible, and all of them have really found great publishing success in the poetry world (Aria Aber, Rachel Manheimmer, and Maggie Milner). I very much felt like the underdog; I was newer to poetry, and much newer to the literature world. I felt overwhelmed, awed, jealous, and inferior, in equal measure. To be fair, I did feel flickers of pride and excitement to be surrounded by such talent, but a lot of it was clouded by my own self-doubt. It is probably worth mentioning that I was experiencing a mental health crisis the final semester, which obviously colored my experience of the cohort and the process.

I would not, today, choose that mentor as a thesis advisor, but I understand why I chose them in 2018 and I do think it was a good move at the time. I realize now that our aesthetics are actually very, very different, and that even if someone is “smart” and compelling, does not mean they are the best mentor for you. I now would try to find someone I feel comfortable with, who I feel like I can be honest with, who I feel will be honest with and invested in me. My advisor has not been involved in my life at all post-grad, and even declined to be listed as a reference once in a fellowship application. I don’t know why, and it makes me sad. I expected I’d come away with an advisor who’d be present as a kind of lifelong guide or touchpoint, but that has not been my experience. 

What was the highlight of the program? Something you remember the most, or that left the greatest impact on you. 

Professors think creative writing PhDs are becoming the new MFA; i.e., the MFA will no longer be considered a “terminal degree” in due time.

I have a couple highlights. One, of course, is meeting some of the most darling friends. I became chronically ill and disabled after graduating, and unfortunately felt that many folks in my cohort did not have the capacity to adjust our relationship to my new accommodations needs. A few people, however, will always have my heart, and for them, I am so grateful. 

I also have strong memories of a couple of classes: I took a workshop with Matt Rohrer, who turned out to be the most generous professor I encountered at NYU. He always had time for me to come in for after-hours and has been a large presence in my post-grad life. I also took a course from Anne Carson and her partner Curry. Many folks struggled with this class, as it was multi-disciplinary, collaborative, and very loosely organized, but I had come from a dance and improvisational performance background and found it familiar-feeling and so delightful. It allowed us to take ourselves a bit less seriously, which is an important opportunity for a lot of us NYU folks.

Was there something you wish were different about your program or time while you were there? If you were running that program, what would you have added/removed/amended? 

At the risk of saying too much, there is a lot I would change about the program. First, I would make the funding decisions and opportunities much more transparent. At NYU, there are a number of merit-based fellowships that are awarded upon admission to the program, but these are not advertised or explained in any way. Students who did not win those fellowships got no explanation for why, and fellowship standing wasn’t even public; people only found out via conversation with each other, which is very strange. It angered me that financial need was not taken into account when deciding on fellowship recipients; one of my dear friends worked full-time through the program despite constantly asking for fellowship opportunities, while others who could afford to pay were given sizable stipends. There often seemed to be no rhyme or reason about how scholarships were doled out; everyone there was talented and deserving.

Additionally, the actual building where classes are held is not at all accessible. I was able-bodied at the time, but even then wondered how a person with disabilities or mobility trouble would navigate the stairs up to the entrance, the extremely narrow stairs to the bathroom, and really any space in the school. 

Finally, I wish there was more discussion about post-grad life; not just about publishing, but about how to organize a writing life, as most of us are not going to be able to support ourselves as poets. I think MFA programs have a responsibility to students to offer opportunities to learn about our options, present the honest financial reality of most writers, etc.

Tell us about how you feel about the health of the MFA overall. Do you think it’s on its way out? Do you think it’s growing, gaining more popularity? Is it redundant? Is it indispensable? Why? Why not?

I’m not sure I have any grounds to state this opinion, but based on my observations, I don’t think the MFA is going anywhere. I’ve actually heard some folks - professors, too - saying that they think creative writing PhDs are becoming the new MFA; i.e., the MFA will no longer be considered a “terminal degree” in due time. I don’t know that I can say whether the MFA is growing in popularity… I have no access to those statistics. I don’t perceive any shortage of applicants to programs, and beyond that I see new programs popping up all the time.

Near graduation, I spoke with one of my professors who does not have an MFA. They actually admitted they hate the MFA paradigm, and feel that MFA programs mostly take advantage of their students (especially the non-funded programs). This professor had a PhD in another field and said that this research is what powered their poetry; that they couldn’t fathom creative writing as an academic field in and of itself. This is not to say they didn’t respect the difficulty and reward of writing, just that they felt programs were doing a disservice to their students by not preparing them with another kind of academic background to ground their creative work. 

I don’t have an easy response. I did end up getting a second master’s degree, mostly for job purposes, but I do notice that my education in another field does very much help my writing. I don’t think an MFA is indispensable, as I also know many folks who are brilliant writers sans MFA. I think it’s a good option for people with the time and resources and desire to be immersed in creative writing for a discreet period, but it’s certainly not the only path towards improving one’s writing. There are so many free, low-cost, and other types of community classes, both online and live in many cities, that are taught by incredible folks. I can imagine that a person might take a series of these types of classes and feel absolutely fulfilled and ready to publish and pursue a writing life without an MFA.

How did you manage money during your MFA? What about immediately afterward? Was there support?

Thank you for asking this. We need more transparency here and I wish more folks considering MFAs had this information. 

I was not awarded a fellowship initially. At NYU, those without fellowships pay for tuition, school registration, health insurance, etc. I don’t remember precisely, but I believe this was about 25k per year. I have access to family wealth, and my (deceased) grandparents valued education very highly, so they had put extra funds away to help pay for my graduate school. I lived in Brooklyn in a gross (but charming!) apartment for $850 a month for 4 years and paid for life, school, and health from these savings.

In the second year of the program I won a fellowship. At the time, NYU offered one fellowship to second-year students for those of us who did not receive one upon admission. It’s a competitive application process and I got lucky. The fellowship came with full tuition remission, health insurance, plus a 13k stipend. Additionally, all second-year students have the option to teach a one-semester creative writing class to undergraduate students, which comes with a 5k salary. So, between, the fellowship and the teaching, my second year was paid for. 

Immediately after the MFA, I spent a couple of months at a residential treatment center for OCD. Funny enough, my NYU health insurance was actually amazing and covered a huge portion of my stay. Once back from treatment, I began looking for jobs in the prison abolition space, taught yoga, and joined a nanny agency to make ends meet on the side. I had a handful of interviews for various management/facilitation jobs at abolitionist organizations, but nothing stuck. Eventually, I got tired of the rejections, and furthermore was becoming more and more ill after a traumatic accident, so I decided to go back to school to at least stay busy and bolster my resume and make connections in the field. I started school at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in the Public Administration Program.

The month after I registered I ended up getting a teaching job at John Jay, so I was both student and faculty at the same time. I worked part-time and was in school full-time for a semester, but COVID hit and everything went virtual. I moved back to Michigan for several months before returning to New York. All this to say, I am extremely lucky in that I had guaranteed backup financial support, which made/makes it possible to opt for jobs and opportunities that don’t make ends meet fully. 

Okay, serious question: how much writing did you actually get done during the program?

Honestly, a lot. A lot a lot. I was pretty terrified, and NYU attracts highly motivated, often very accomplished writers. I felt very “behind,” even though there is no standard for what “behind” or “ahead” means. I was also very lucky not to work so that first year especially was extremely spacious for me. I remember spending many hours at Poetry House just browsing the stacks and reading & writing for hours and hours.

The second year was a bit busier, but I felt enough peer pressure to keep churning out work. I’m very grateful for the time to explore, but I don’t necessarily think “more” is always better. My thesis did end up turning into my first book (with many revisions, of course), but many of those poems had been written before the MFA, or after. Workshop is funny; especially at first, it’s hard to gauge what feedback actually means, how to take it, who to take it from, who your audience is. I think for hyper-academic people like myself (aka very anxious and “good students,”), there’s this desire to have everyone like the poem, which is not only impossible, but actually not even desirable. Post-program I feel like a bum sometimes but I notice that I waste less time kind of “noodling around” on the page. I write when I have an idea but don’t feel forced to make anything, which is how the MFA can feel sometimes.

For recent grads, I’d say - there’s no rush to get your book published. All of us have such different circumstances, and even though it may be hard watching some of your classmates hit it big right after graduation, keep in mind that there is no race or timeline and that there is room for all of us.

Design your ideal creative writing program. Imagine you have all the resources and support in the world. What will this look like?

Oh gosh, I can’t do this question justice. I’ll list a few things that come to mind, but I’m afraid to fully answer this would entail writing a treatise on education, for which which I am neither prepared nor qualified. So, some qualities of this imagined program:

• It is not an MFA

• It is entirely free to participants

• All costs (travel, books, required registration material, etc.) are covered

• Optional fellowships allow participants to facilitate writing workshops or do some other community integration programming with stipend if they choose.

• Schedule allows for work, family, and other obligations

• Fully accessible space

• MASKS required when accessible

• HORIZONTAL ADMINISTRATION - faculty, staff, admin are all paid the same FAIR hourly wage (or salary, depending on situation)

• Embedded into the programming are workshops on career seeking, resumes, etc.

• Students are exposed to the full spectrum of publishing, including magazines, books, websites, podcasts, etc.

• All students are introduced to basic principles of translation

• Genre is not a thing

• Writers are encouraged to follow their obsessions while also being challenged to explore new ideas

• All teachers/faculty are trauma-informed

• “The canon” is erased/insignificant

• Writing by Black, Brown, and other POC is emphasized

• Students are encouraged to study art forms beyond writing, such as visual art, movement art, performance, music, etc.

• Did I mention everything is free?

I must include here that there are some amazing educators and poets working to create alternative teaching models. Some that come to mind include Rachel Zucker, Geoffrey Nutter, the amazing folks at Split this Rock, and many of the identity-based groups like CantoMundo, Cave Canem, Kundiman, etc. These are great launching pads for exploring further.

What were your goals and ambitions before you applied? How did they evolve during the program? 

When I applied, I was in close contact with an incarcerated individual. He’s a writer, and my honest to god intention was to get an MFA “for him,” as in, I felt that I could be his proxy, and through letters, distill my learning to him so he could further his career. How young and naive I was! I think that belief was earnest and sweet, but it also caused a lot of internal strife when I ran up against the very gendered aspects of that dream - i.e. “doing xyz on behalf of a man,” and resentment did start to build when I felt I was not tending to my own work to the same degree (which is nobody’s fault but mine).

Additionally, I got sucked into the energy of New York City and NYU in particular. My sense of the MFA program at NYU - and this is very specific to my own experience, I don’t want to generlize or suggest this was anyone else’s experience - is that everyone was extremely friendly, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of competition and specific idea of what “achievement” or “success” means. I felt so sure of myself when I started that I had no interest in this competitive aspect of the literary world, but I quickly fell into that line of thinking. I think it’s normal to internalize these feelings, but they are not values I wish to carry with me. I’m trying to retrain my brain into one obsessed with wonder and curiosity, with no mind to “industry measures of achievement.” This is a goal; I’m certainly not there yet.

What made you want to do a PhD in Creative Writing? How does it differ from the MFA?

I am considering applying to PhD programs; I will likely apply in the next round, for admission in fall 2025. I’ve generally heard discouragement from mentors about PhD CW programs; many of these programs exist mostly to take advantage of underpaid teaching labor, and folks warn that PhDs in all subjects are no longer tickets to jobs in academia, and that a creative writing PhD in particular would be useless in the job market. Of course, this is biased, and mostly from writers who never did a PhD, but I appreciate their caution and advice. 

My approach to the PhD application process is, I think/hope, very informed. I do not expect to come out with a tenure-track job. I’m applying to two programs only - this time I’m much more selective about who I want to study with and where I’m willing to live. I’ve also ensured both of these programs are open to working with disabled/chronically ill students, which is critical for me. I’m applying to these programs because they are flexible and funded, and essentially would pay me to read and write (and will provide health insurance!). I look at them as extended residencies. Since I am unable to work a traditional job at this point, a PhD stipend would actually be an increase in income for me. It would be an opportunity to study with some awesome folks, have some structure, and develop my projects in a setting devoted to creativity and research for a few years without the constant hustle of trying to find remote and accessible gigs. 

Tell us about something exciting happening in your writing journey or career right now! 

Oh! Even before my MFA, I had been working on an anthology project. I started in 2015, and thought that I’d have support and guidance at NYU (I was wrong). That said, the project was finally published in 2023! I’m proud that I stuck with it, despite wanting to quit many times. I had no help from the program, but still managed to get a publisher and national distributor. The book is That’s a Pretty Thing to Call It: Prose and poetry by artists teaching in carceral institutions, out from New Village Press. 

Also, I got really tired of the first-book competition grind after being a finalist and semi-finalist in a couple of contests, so I randomly searched P&W for agents accepting poets. This yielded literally like, 8 people, all of whom I cold-queried, and one responded! So I, a poet, got an agent, which is very unusual. I am extremely lucky, and even luckier that she and I share a similar politic and I very much love the other books from the agency. She sold my first book in our first round of pitches, so I really can’t ask for anything more!

Any advice for MFA hopefuls and/or recent grads?

Hmmm. For hopefuls, I would say talk to as many people as you can - those currently in MFAs as well as those who’ve moved on. Understand what your program priorities are (Faculty? Geography? Funding? ) and apply based on that. No need to waste money on applications for programs that don’t align with your values. Along with that - observe/look up/find out who the students are. Is it a homogenous group in terms of race, ethnicity, style, etc.? If so, does that bother you? Be aware of the social/political norms of a school, and if they will be amenable to you. If/when you get accepted, ALWAYS ask for more funding. No harm in asking! And be assured that you were/are admitted for a reason, especially when being surrounded by other extremely talented writers starts feeling overwhelming.

For recent grads, I’d say - there’s no rush to get your book published. All of us have such different circumstances (financial, familial, etc.), and even though it may be hard watching some of your classmates hit it big right after graduation, keep in mind that there really is no race or timeline, and that there is room for all of us. To echo Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah - “We are all on the same team.” I try to think about this when I start to feel envious or competitive. Us writers are all on the same team of astute observation and imagination with the larger hope of writing - creating- a world better than the one in which we currently live. That’s pretty cool, and there’s nothing competitive about that.