Seth Abramson weighs in a number of times, but it's this post that got me thinking in a tangential direction. To keep everything on this page for the moment, here are the particular items that spark my own post:
Graduate creative writing programs graduate well over 2,000 individuals per year, with that number rising sufficiently for us to expect well over 25,000 new CW graduates over the next ten years--approximately 12,000 of them poets, each with 2-4 years of graduate training in creative writing and a manuscript of publishable quality.
and
Poetry can undoubtedly survive without MFAs; I was actually looking at it in the other direction, which is to ask the question, "What can we do with MFAs?"
Here's my question, which is related to the issue of relevancy: What exactly do we mean by manuscript of publishable quality? And is that really what we want of an MFA program?
To lay this all out, less as an argument than as a line of thought I haven't really seen pursued: A manuscript of publishable quality means one of the many, many presses out there is willing to either A) do a lot of work to make this volume sell, which means painting it as somehow relevant to a particular reading demographic, B) go into debt in order to produce the volume, knowing that poetry doesn't sell particularly well but thinking these poems worthy for some reason, or C) collect entry fees in a contest to offset the fact that the book itself will not sell well. Notice how B and especially C assume ahead of time that the poetry is not relevant, at least not to the point that economics back it up. That may be because I've weighted the options with my own verbiage, but part of the point here is in fact to weight things the "wrong" way.
Most MFA programs of which I'm aware want a poet to produce a collection of poetry by the end of his or her tenure. Said collection should fit one or more of the criteria above, which also tends to include publishing in journals, which are considered more ephemeral. But let's be honest - most of the books, despite their seeming permanence, will not last to the end of a calendar year. Now, you, dear reader, might rightly say that that's what reviews and best-of lists are for. Determining the best published books of the year. And yet the best book of the year almost certainly will not come from an MFA student, at least judging by the major awards.
I can nearly hear you clamoring for an alternative, so here goes: instead of a book-length collection of poems, produce one poem that will be worthy of reading 50 years from now.
Like I said, this isn't so much an argument as something to mull over (and probably reject in the end). But really, if we are asking an MFA student to show mastery of a subject, which in this case is the writing of poetry, why would we accept a lot of work that is good versus a small body of work that is masterful? Certainly encourage the students to publish in journals, which are passing, and acknowledge that most of what they do will fall by the wayside. Simultaneously encourage them to produce something that won't just get blurbed, won't just break even, but will be relevant (by which I mean, problematically, either splendidly indicative of that student's time/place/situation or splendidly counter to it, which would both be of value to the reader 50 years from now, or somehow transcending time and space to speak to that unknown yet anticipated reader). If the student can manage to produce a poetic sequence or, miracle of miracles, an entire book that fits this criterion, you'll know you have something really special on your hands.
Thoughts? C. Dale? Seth? Nancy? Barbara Jane? Regular readers of this blog? Really, I'm not wedded to the concept, and I'm not trying to call Seth out or anything silly like that, but I feel like a discussion around its problems could be useful in defining why an MFA and its productions are in fact relevant.
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Hi Jeff,
I gotta run, so this'll be quick, but I should say that, oddly enough, my reference to the notion of a manuscript of "publishable quality" wasn't a nod toward the publishing industry, but rather a sort of shorthand for the idea that one must exhibit to one's professors a basic competence in poetry-writing to graduate from an MFA program. As I explained a little more in several of the essays on my blog, given that we're talking about twenty-somethings who are still forty years away from writing the best poetry of their lives--I tend to see poetry as an endeavor in which one often (but not always) peaks in one's sixties--expecting much more than basic competence seems unfair to me (or perhaps I should simply say "unrealistic"). Which I suppose, for me, answers your question: the purpose of the MFA is not to put young writers through a gauntlet they can't possibly endure (like putting the expectation on them that they'll write a canonical poem while in their MFA) but to give them some tools to use for a life in poetry, and to (by default) force them to consider the level of their commitment to being a poet. I don't see the "point" of an MFA as a manuscript; frankly, I think the politics of manuscript-creation are presently terrible--a separate conversation, in a way--and that many young writers harm themselves by thinking of the poems they're writing as part of a prospective manuscript. My advice, a modification of yours, would be to say that the MFA thesis should be a certain number of poems, but need not be an explicit "manuscript" (in the sense of that word that means a single collection). Best,
Seth
i taught MFA workshops for a couple decades,
and always required the poets to submit/send out their work to mags——
as a favorite poet of mine, Yevtushenko, wrote:
"Be equal to your talent, not your age!"
Young poets should publish (or try to) publish——
why wait till they're older . ..
First reply to Knott, since it's the particularly quick one:
I think somewhere in my rambling prose was lost the bit wherein I, too, encourage publication in journals for MFA students. Hell, for undergrads, too. My question had more to do with "books" than journals. Which leads into
Reply to Seth:
Ah ha, I've got a better handle on what you're saying now. Or so I think.
I'm having two thoughts, one of which goes in your direction, one of which goes away from it.
One, I like the idea of severing the concept of "manuscript" from the concept of "book." Wish I had linguistic-scissors to get in between those. Furthermore, I'd like to pare back the connotation of permanence that gets carried over from book to manuscript. Actually, I'd like to pare back the connotations of permanence associated with book, period. This coming from a guy who worked in a rare books library (and loved it) the first two years of graduate school.
Where I end up going in a different direction from you is the basic competence. Don't worry, I'm not underestimating what you mean by basic. I'm just serious about shooting for the stars if you're in that MFA program. It's an incredible burden to try to write a canonical poem, but that student now has to figure out which canon, which allows for some wiggle room (and at least forty years of soul/book searching). I'm also not certain that asking this of the students is a "gauntlet they can't endure" so much as it is an impossible task. I see an important difference there, in terms of development as a writer. Through I take as a huge assumption that wrestling with histories as well as words to be part of the poet's task.
Posting quickly as well. Will probably have to clear up some phrase which you'll smartly latch onto and dissect. Looking forward to it.
Jeff (and Bill),
Seeing your responses, I should hasten to distinguish between my analysis of the word "publishable manuscript"--generally, an attempt to deemphasize the manuscript element of that phrase--and my feelings on MFA students publishing their work while in the MFA. As much as I don't think it's possible for an MFA student to expect of themselves canonical-quality work (even one poem) while in school, I am about the biggest proponent imaginable of MFAers sending out to magazines while in school. I've already worked with a number of my classmates at Iowa to help them do this; many of them were worried about doing so, having received advice from elders to the effect of ignoring the publishing industry until they graduate. Fortunately, the publishing industry does not require of us instantly-canonical work (not in any way to make light of your suggestion, Jeff), so there's no discrepancy between wanting to go a little easier on MFAers re: their aesthetics (as I do) and simultaneously urging them to participate in the national dialogue about poetry that happens partly (I emphasize that word!) through publishing.
Best,
Seth
These are coming fast and furious now, so I have to ask Seth go to meta on us for a moment-
How do you see this difference arising:
Position 1: To relax aesthetic expectations on MFA students, while encouraging them to publish in journals (with the co-position that the latter is a more stringent activity)
Position 2: To increase aesthetic expectations on MFA students, while encouraging them to publish in journals (with the co-position that the latter is a fairly easy if often frustrating/lengthy activity)
:-)
any current MFAer has a better chance to write a good poem than i do . . .
the best part of this is that i haven't peaked yet. (i'm 46.)
i don't have an mfa, and my life circumstances are such that i probably won't get one. how will i know if i am a good poet is the question that this discussion delivers to me. i wish i weren't as attached to the idea of publication as i am; i wish that my own sense of poetry were enough for me. i'm trying to get there. i sense that i would have more poetic clout if i had a collection/book published. then i have to ask myself what do i think poetic clout is. and i would love to write a poem that would endure beyond the limits of my life. how would i recognize this poem? i need a community of writers to help me sort this out. really, i don't have much for solid answers here, just lots of questions.
i ask hard things of my creative writing students---they 14-18. and sometimes they come through and it really blows my mind. so i think you can ask people to do those difficult things if you provide them with the right kind of support...instructional scaffolding is the term in my realm---secondary education. the rub is that i must figure out when i work with very young writers what sort of instructional scaffolding works with each writer, how far i can push, how intense i can be. i tend to try to do what Larry Woiwode did when i took a class from him. (fabulous writer..Beyond the Bedroom Wall is his big work.) he told us that he was trying to save us time as writers, in effect, we would profit by his mistakes. yes, it sounds dictatorial, but it worked. i learned things from him that i carry into each piece of writing that i do. i guess here it looks like i'm beginning to suggest a discussion about creative writing pedagogy....and you don't want to go there, i can certainly understand.
i do so appreciate this discussion!!
Nancy - I'd love to go there (questions of pedagogy), but perhaps we can break that off into a different post or set of posts? One reason I made this post was to keep a separate-and-sticky discussion off the fascinating issue that was being developed over at Avoiding the Muse.
Questions are good. In the classroom, as online, I tend to pose a lot of questions and also to put a lot of stuff out there, assertions, innuendoes, and otherwise, and let the class sort out what sticks. Not that I'm treating anyone here as a student of mine (which is to say, I do not intend a hierarchy). Rather, I enjoy the give and take, the working out of a problem that may not have one (or two)(or three) pat answer(s).
When are they going to stop publishing collections of essays and start publishing blog discussions? <-- another matter for another post :-)
A question for you, Nancy, that does perhaps get back to some of the original issues: where do you send your poetry in order to feel validated about it?
wow, what a question! (i've also been thinking blog posts should be collected and published somewhere lately, because i read some damned interesting stuff in this realm)
mostly, i've been sending to new publications, most of which i find in poets and writers magazine or on new pages. i keep trying contests, and i keep trying big name places every so often. even though i said earlier that publication did seem to confer something on a piece, the best i've felt about a piece was something that was published, but i think what ultimately made me feel so good about it was that i worked really hard on it.(it was an essay) and i think i got it; i captured what i wanted and i pushed myself to a new level of writing because of that work. the process was an arduous delight! i'm having a minor epiphany here: yes, the process absolutely gave me a great sense of validation and pride. what about you, jeff? and others?
to knott: Why?
to Nancy: I feel best about a piece, validated about a piece, when it takes life outside of me.
Now, I try to publish. I was happy when I got a poem in Fence, for example, in large part because of that journal's reputation. But that happiness is largely based on my desire to get a faculty position and knowing that publications in journals with reputations will greatly help in that regard. It's a career-path happiness.
When I perform "ADD TV," it's not the cheering of a crowd that really gets me. It's the person, usually a poet, who walks up afterwards and says, "I've never seen anything like that" and who alters his or her approach to performance poetry because of it. I sent out a bunch of copies of my first chapbook to people I thought would appreciate it. Got some good reactions, a couple of reviews, and some blurbs in case of reprintings. But what finally made me feel validated in my work was when it was put on the syllabus of a 300-level American Studies course at A&M, because that meant somebody was going to study it, pick it apart, find questions and questionables and holes in it. Which is to say, for both these examples, that the poem is now fully separate from me, is something that, if I perform it or talk about it, I'm channeling.
Writing all that now, I'm pretty certain it's evidence against my original proposition for MFA students to try to produce something worth reading 50 years from now. The simple (im)practicality of waiting for work to take on its own life is too far beyond the control of the poet. It took me a year and a half to write the chapbook in question, which was published in December 2004. It went on that syllabus for Fall 2008. "ADD TV" took about a year to get to its final form. Because I haven't been able to be a traveling poet, until recently I've only reached a contained/local audience with it. The kind of validation I'm advancing perhaps cannot be handed down by a committee, but can only arise organically, if at all, in a larger literary ecosystem.
Hmm. That's depressing. No more Nick Cave before bed for me. Nor James Blunt (with a tip of the hat to Seth on that one).
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