Does an MFA make you a better, more successful kidlit writer?
About ten years ago, every member of my writing critique group decided to get an MFA in Children’s Writing. Every member of the group, but me.
At the time, my FOMO (fear of missing out) was out of control. I desperately wanted to be with my peers. I dreamed of immersing myself in a community of people who loved what I loved, who talked my language, who would be able to help me grow as a writer.
I imagined that an MFA would take my writing to the next level, that writing my books would be a more efficient, easier process, that my newfound skills would make selling my books a more efficient, easier process, too. Maybe I would teach. Maybe I would write a Newbery or a National Book Award winner. Maybe. All I knew was that getting an MFA in children’s writing was my destiny!
Except for a few obstacles.
First, I had two children under ten and no one to watch them while I was away or doing my course work at home. Second, money was tight. Really tight. How could I justify the cost of an MFA, especially when I had already invested in an MA years earlier?
I told myself the timing just wasn’t right.
I told myself there would be many opportunities to apply for an MFA down the road.
Ten years later, I still don’t have an MFA in writing for children
Ten years later, I’ve published four books. Two were written many years ago, two within the past 10 years. Would an MFA have helped me be more productive in the past decade? I will never know. But ten years later, I’m also confident enough to say that having an MFA is wonderful if you can do it, but not having an MFA doesn’t hurt your trajectory.
Now, I need to pause here and acknowledge my biases. I run writing workshops. I do not have an MFA. But I created Whale Rock Literary Workshops, in part, as an answer to my own MFA dilemma.
Hear me out.
Having many friends and colleagues who have gone through an MFA program and shared their experiences with me, I have an understanding of how they benefited from enrolling in this kind of academic program.
What you gain from obtaining an MFA:
You will join an incredibly connected, networked community, and you will make amazing friends who you will continue to learn and grow with.
You will dive deeply into analysis. You will gain an academic understanding of literature, tools, and techniques. You will learn how to write critical essays.
You will have access to some of the finest teachers and mentors who can guide you both in your career and/or on a specific project.
You will walk away with a degree that allows you to teach at the university level.
You will be able to tell folks that you have an MFA in children’s writing.
However, the degree doesn't guarantee "success."
There is no guarantee you will come out of an MFA program and get published. Let me say that again: there is no guarantee you will graduate and publish a book.
In fact, I’ve met a number of graduates who have not yet sold novels nor have they landed agent representation.
Writing critical essays does not necessarily make you a better children’s writer. If you are less interested in critical writing, a program that requires critical essays may not be for you.
An MFA requires a lot of time. If you have a full time job or children, you may find the ongoing reading and writing demands taxing, if not stressful.
If you dream of working at the university level, there are not nearly enough teaching positions for the number of students graduating from these MFA programs each year. And, most adjunct positions pay very little - some pay nothing at all.
Graduates have shared, anecdotally, that:
You may be frustrated with a lack of access to your dream mentors. This is a tricky complaint because sometimes the best teacher is the one you discover by accident. But, if you applied and attended a program with your heart set on working with one instructor, you might be disappointed.
Your community may dissipate when the degree ends. Once you’ve completed your MFA, you may lose touch with your peers and your mentors.
The lack of focus on process and the business does not prepare students for the realities of trying to get a book completed, submitted and published.
You may sometimes be surprised by the wide range of writing skills within the programs.
Finally, an MFA costs a lot of money!
A low-residency MFA program will cost you somewhere between $36,000 and $55,000 depending on the institution and its fees. That is A LOT of money IF you are attending the program because your primary goals are to be published and form a network. This degree cannot guarantee outcomes in an industry that pays notoriously poorly.
If you are considering applying for an MFA, ask yourself:
What is motivating me to apply for an MFA?
What do I ultimately hope to gain from an MFA?
Is an MFA financially viable for me? (How much debt will I accrue? Can I pay it back if I don’t sell books after I graduate?)
Can I get what I seek elsewhere or is an MFA the only option for me?
If you're looking to grow your skills, build a community and get published, there are other, more cost-effective options.
When I thought long and hard about what appealed to me about an MFA, it was access to incredible teachers, gained writing skills, and a community. I had no real intention or desire to teach at a university. I didn’t really want to write critical essays. I’d already spent years writing a thesis, and I didn’t need to do that again. In a way, the MFA was more than I needed.
So I set out to fulfill my goals via other paths. I took a series of high-level writing classes with a master teacher. There, I found trusted friends whom I could share my work with and get honest feedback from. Still, I wanted to push my writing skills even more.
It quickly became clear to me why so many authors apply to low-residency MFA programs. The application process feels like a guarantee that many of the writers are at a similar caliber to you. and the MFA instructors have been curated for their abilities.
In the writing workshop space, while there are many, many writing programs available to the masses, most are geared towards all levels, often making the curriculum redundant to an experienced author.
The other option, hiring a private editor (often an experienced published author, or a former editor from a publishing house), comes with a steep price tag, and there are huge discrepancies in their skill sets. What’s more, their aim is often to “fix” your existing manuscript rather than teach you the skills you need to grow and develop for your own future projects.
So I created what I sought. Patti Gauch, Gary Schmidt, and I put together a weeklong master-level program for intermediate writers who might otherwise have sought MFA-level instruction. Our mentorship program evolved from our students’ desire for more one-on-one time with our amazing instructors.
Deciding to get an MFA, like all things in life, is an incredibly personal decision. If your dream involves critical essays and a degree, go for it! Who knows, maybe one day my goals will change, and I will get an MFA, too.
But if you’re applying with the goal of improving your craft, or if you’re applying because you want access to amazing mentors, know that you have options. Viable, equal options that cost a whole lot less.
Additional Reading:
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/04/06/us/ucla-adjunct-professor-salary.html
https://medium.com/read-watch-write-repeat/5-good-reasons-to-pursue-an-mfa-in-creative-writing-a23efa7fbf4d
https://www.insidehighered.com/blogs/just-visiting/potential-mfa-students-there-are-no-academic-jobs
https://electricliterature.com/how-the-mfa-glut-is-a-disservice-to-students-teachers-and-writers/
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/writers-center/writing/will-mfa-give-you-edge/