Like most in their last years of college education, I couldn’t wait to graduate and dive right into my dream job and career. I will never ever set foot in a classroom again, I said. Seventeen years of school was enough for me. I was over it long before it was actually over, and I thought I knew everything I needed to know.
Through the years, many of my friends have pursued graduate studies and attained their Masters and Doctorates. I admired them for going back to school, but I had decided that that just wasn’t for me. I remember having a related discussion with a long-time friend who’s been through multiple volunteer programs, scholarships, and internships in Europe—she asked me if I considered going after a secondary degree (journalism) or something supplementary to professional writing. My response: “What for? Either you have a talent for writing or you don’t. Simple lang, diba? Bakit pa kailangan pag-aralan ‘yan?”
Yeah, I was a cocky little shit.
Fast forward to early June 2015. I was standing right in front of De La Salle University’s towering Henry Sy Sr. Hall, clutching a long brown envelope containing all the application requirements for the school’s MFA-Creative Writing program. The arrogant rookie of a decade ago has had her big ego deflated and ate a hefty serving of humble pie. I’m ready to be schooled once more. (possible callout)
Why the change of heart, you ask? I’ve realized that writing—whether for a living or as a personal interest—calls for much more than the ability to string words together into a decent narration. (possible callout) I have myriad reasons for applying: I’m writing for others, but not for myself. I’ve limited myself to specific ideas, output, and even industries, resulting in figurative brain atrophy. I’ve grappled with more writing blocks and distractions than I can handle. I fear getting pushed out by younger, hungrier, cheaper, and ballsier competition—and in some ways, it’s already happening.
Yadda yadda yadda. Anyway. Time to ask for help.
La Salle’s not the only educational institution to have a postgrad Creative Writing program, although I think more Philippine schools should add it to their course catalogs. UP has it as a BA, MA and PhD offering; and Silliman University in Dumaguete, as Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees. UST has an MA Creative Writing program in its Humanities and Liberal Arts roster. If I had my ego handed back to me earlier in life, and if I knew about Ateneo’s BA Creative Writing course or even the Philippine High School for the Arts (PHSA)’s Creative Writing “baby major” when I was in my teens, I would’ve applied for them.
Then there are the esteemed national writing workshop fellowships. The first one that comes to mind is the Silliman National Writers Workshop in Dumaguete, followed by the Iligan National Writers Workshop, and those held by La Salle (IYAS), Ateneo, UP, and UST.
Barring admission in an educational institution or a national workshop, short courses and online/offline workshops are great options. I’ve seen a few Massively Open Online Courses (MOOCs) via the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT)’s OpenCourseWare platform and Skillshare, with the heralded University of Iowa getting in on the action with its new poetry and fiction classes. Organizations like Writer’s Block Philippines, Storywriting School, and Talkshop provide short classes on specific writing topics; and if not for the extra-high fees, I’d probably consider the online classes from the Creative Nonfiction Foundation or the British publisher Curtis Brown Creative. There’s also the upcoming #StrangeLit online writing workshop from Bronze Age Media and buqo, an interesting blend of online writing instruction and corporate backing.
I think all these options (and the others I’ve yet to find, or failed to mention) collectively show that creative writing is now being taken more seriously. More people are taking this specific career path, see it as something that aligns with their current interests or view it as worth adding to their list of skills and proficiencies. (possible callout)
Of course, not everyone has to or wants to pursue writing in an educational setting. Some, as I used to say, just have the talent for it. Others may not, but go ahead anyway and find their own audience, regardless of the quality of work and level of imagination. Many have gone ahead and forged their own paths in modern lit without help from the old guard. We see new authors being backed by smaller presses; and getting visibility through blogging, anthologies, self-publishing, expos, and online services. Now, you don’t even have to put out an entire novel—you can serialize your work, generate some buzz (ugh), and tweak the stories according to feedback. I absolutely loathe the books written by Stephenie Meyer and E.L. James and love to poke fun at the stories that make it from Wattpad to TV5. But their successes in terms of readership and earnings are undeniable.
And then there are the people who think the aforementioned graduate studies and courses are a creative (hah) way of doing business, or a fun break from, uh, “adulting.” Over the years, I’ve heard people say “Ah, talaga?” and “Oh, okay, that’s nice” whenever others say they want to study creative writing or write stories for a living. During one particular dinner conversation, I was advised to take up a secondary course that would “make me a lot of money in the future”—with the implication that creative writing and journalism will keep me broke. (Well…) Most of the friends who found out about my application were enthusiastic and encouraging, but there were a few who wondered why the hell I’d want to commit my hard-earned money and two years of my life to it when I can’t even fully commit to anything we wanted to do for next week. And that’s if I get into the program. Make that a big IF.
This is how I think about MFAs and short courses these days: if I can learn from them, they’re worth a shot. I’ve seen, read, and heard all the arguments for and against them; and I think a good way to find out what’s right for me is to actually get in there and experience them for myself. And write. Well, duh. Before I handed in my envelope of requirements, I asked one of my mentors for a recommendation letter. She told me that when she asked for a recommendation from her own mentor, she was given one “simple” requirement: to write a Palanca-winning story. Her requirement for me is easier in comparison: give her a publishable story. Guess now’s a good time to start working on it.
This article first appeared in the July 2015 issue of 2nd Opinion.
