6 Steps to DIY an MFA

The question of whether an MFA is worth it pops up on my various social feeds and other online outlets now and then. I’m not going to aspire to answer that question for everyone in this blog post, because I feel like that’s one of those things that doesn’t have a straight “yes or no” answer.

For me personally, earning my MFA was the first step that led me to the career and life I have today. I loved my time at Chatham, which was my first time being part of a community of writers since I studied music in undergrad. Without the degree, I don’t know that I would have had the confidence to go for a career as a writer, so while you definitely don’t need an advanced degree to make a living with words, for me it was the key that unlocked that path.

The flip side of this is, while I’ve technically earned far more from writing by this point than I spent on my MFA, I am also still paying it off (and probably will be for at least another 5 years)—and that I definitely don’t love. I also have the privilege of being childfree with no major health issues or other must-pay expenses, so student loans felt like a reasonable investment in my future. I know this is not the case for everyone, and the cost of a full-residency MFA program is understandably prohibitive for a lot of folks. 

In short, I would never discourage anyone from getting an MFA if they think it’ll be valuable and feasible for them—but I also don’t think it’s necessary for everyone, and I completely understand why some people might want a more affordable alternative.

The honest truth is, you don’t need the fancy piece of paper unless you plan to teach college (in which case then yes, get your MFA, what are you waiting for?). But you do need to commit yourself to writing and treat it like a serious endeavor if you want to make it your career, or even your “technically this is my hobby but I’m also way more into it than my day job” side hustle. 

So I figured I’d share my thoughts on what the most valuable things are you get from an MFA and some suggestions of how you can replicate them independent from a college program.

Step 1: Find a workshop group.

Getting feedback from other writers is absolutely critical if you want to become the best writer you can be. Self-editing is great, and you need to do that too, but having an outside eye read and comment on your work helps you to see it from a reader’s perspective. Other folks can also spot your quirks and blind spots, or things you didn’t even know you were doing wrong (or could be doing better)—things you can figure out on your own eventually, but will discover much faster with the help of others. 

Giving feedback to other writers can be invaluable, as well. Doing this trains you to read critically, not just for enjoyment. You start to see how people achieve the things you love in stories, what exactly rubs you the wrong way, why you should follow those writing rules everybody repeats—and when it’s okay to break them (and how to do it right).

Workshop courses are a regular feature of MFA programs for a reason. Find a group you can go to at least once a month, and ideally once a week if you can manage it, then commit to being an active participant. Send your work when you get the chance, and provide thoughtful comments on whatever other members submit. If you’re not sure how to find a workshop group, I wrote a post on just that topic a while back that might be helpful. 

Step 2: Sign up for independent craft classes, lectures, webinars, and workshops.

Another top resource for MFA students are the professors themselves and the craft lessons they teach. The good news is, you don’t need to enroll in a full university program to learn from college professors—and (it might go without saying but I’ll say it anyway), professors aren’t the only ones who can teach you things you didn’t know about writing.

If you want to attend in-person learning, investigate your local writing community. These kinds of classes and workshops are often hosted by writing centers, literary organizations, bookstores, libraries, and other places where bookish folks congregate. 

You can also find a plethora of these learning opportunities online, often for pretty cheap (or sometimes even free). Here are some places I know of that can get you started:

Step 3: Attend literary readings and events as often as you can.

One of the most valuable things that you get from an MFA program is the start of a professional network. I won’t say this is a must-have to grow a writing career—but it definitely doesn’t hurt. Knowing other writers helps you find sources of creative feedback, hear about publishers who might be a great home for your work, and learn about other opportunities like job offers, residencies, workshops, and other such things that can give your writing cred a definite boost.

Again: you don’t need to be in an MFA program to network. In fact, I would say that being an active member of your local literary community is a much more effective approach to growing your professional network. If you find this intimidating, start small. Attend a poetry reading, book launch, or similar event without feeling the pressure to engage—just get yourself into the spirit of enjoying some words. As you get more comfortable, you can graduate up to congratulating the readers at the end, or chatting with other audience members, or even participating in open mics or poetry slams.

If you’re looking for more sustained networking opportunities, check out what kind of writing conferences or genre conventions happen nearby. There are some big national ones you can check out, too, like AWP or WorldCon, but you don’t need to jump right into the deep end. A local book festival or small writers’ conference can be a great way to dip your toe in and start making friends with other scribblers.  

Step 4: Join professional groups for writers.

Professional organizations can give the networking efforts I talked about above a big boost. For one thing, they often host the readings, workshops, conferences, and similar events that I’ve mentioned already (and members often get a discount to attend). They also often have other resources, like feedback groups, member forums, job boards, and newsletters that can help you hear about opportunities you might miss otherwise. 

Granted, joining a professional organization isn’t free, either—but it’s a good bit cheaper than an MFA, and if you take advantage of member discounts you can end up saving money in the long run compared to booking things like conferences and classes a-la-carte.

There are both national and regional professional organizations that you can join. On the national level, it could be worth it to check out things like:

…there are more, too, but that’s a place to start, at least. To find regional or local organizations, read the bios of people who are putting on book launches, readings, and similar events in your area to see what groups they belong to (and also Google is a thing).

Step 5: Schedule sacred writing time every week.

To be a writer, you need to write. It sounds obvious, maybe, but this is also the step that I find a lot of aspiring writers struggle with, especially the ones with families and day jobs and all those other important adulting things already eating up their time. It can feel impossible to steal a few hours every week to just sit down and put words on the page. If you never do that, though, you will never be a writer. Full stop.

My best advice here is, again, start small. See if you can find a 30-minute window every day when you can at least put some words on the page, even if that’s writing in your journal or something else that doesn’t feel “creative”—writing well is a skill, and like any skill it takes practice and repetition to hone. 

Once you can consistently write for at least 30 minutes (at least most days) see if you can find a longer window once a week, around 2-3 hours, that you can get in some more sustained writing time. All of this is developing the habit where you make writing a priority in some fashion, and that step alone will get you much further to finishing and publishing projects than you were before.

Even beyond the instruction and community, one of the most valuable things about being in an MFA program is that it forces you to devote time to writing—if you don’t, you’re just wasting those thousands of dollars you’re spending. It takes a bit more intrinsic motivation and dedication to create this environment for yourself, but it absolutely can be done.

This is another area where having a group of other writers for support can be a huge help. Your friends and family might not understand why you need to skip a fun night out so you can stay home and stare at your computer—but your writing group members will, and that support can make the hard work of writing feel a bit easier (and less lonely).

Step 6: Give yourself a thesis project with a 1-2 year completion deadline.

An MFA culminates in a thesis, either a novel, memoir, or collection of stories, poems, or essays, depending on your genre. This is a big-picture project that you work on either throughout the program or in the final year of it, and since you have to finish it to graduate you’re pretty motivated to get it done. 

Once again, you’ll have to provide that motivation yourself if you’re going it alone. Giving yourself something tangible as a reward can help—maybe there’s a big trip you’ve been wanting to take, or some utterly frivolous big purchase that you’ve never been able to justify. Now’s the chance to put that to work as a carrot. Or, if you’re more a “motivated by the stick” kid of person, you can deprive yourself of something until you’ve finished the project—maybe you cancel your Netflix subscription and don’t get it back until your “thesis” is complete, for instance.

The important thing isn’t what you get for finishing the project—it’s that you actually drive yourself to do it. As much as I cringe when I pull pages from the corporate drivel I write in for my day job, there are sometimes nuggets of wisdom in that world. One of them is to set SMART goals, which stands for:

…so decide what this looks like for your project. Pick a 1-year or 2-year timeline, whichever feels the most achievable for you. Decide what the project will be, then start to break that down into its parts. If it’s a novel or memoir, set yourself mini-goals for when you’ll finish chapter 1, chapter 2, and so on. If it’s a collection, decide how many total pieces you’ll include and set deadlines for finishing each one. 

If you were in an MFA program, you’d meet with you advisor to do this kind of planning. If you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed trying to figure it out yourself, this is when you can go back to that writing community. Get their advice, and see if there’s a more experienced writer who might be willing to offer some mentorship or advice in exchange for a cup of coffee or a beer.

Then, once you have the plan—hold yourself to it. That’s the hardest part, I know, and one place where I really can’t offer you anything except encouragement. Just like with giving yourself regular writing time, though, you’ll start to develop a habit for working on your “thesis” once you get into the swing of it. And, before you know it, you’ll have a whole ass book you can start shopping around to publishers, just like a newly-graduated MFA but without the crushing debt. 

Will following these steps really replace an MFA?

Again, this depends on what you’d be hoping to get from your degree. If you want a credential, then you’ll have to bite the bullet and enroll in a program. If what you want is to launch a writing career, though, then I would say yes. Putting in this kind of sustained work to write regularly and be actively involved in the writing community will do just as much (if not more) to put you on the path to “professional writer” status as a college program.

 

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