It’s funny to me. I began this blog my first month of our MFA program and handled it for a while. It’s an odd experience to sit at the same kitchen table as I prep to end my stay and type in the same blog with my new laptop perched on the remains of my old one. The writing has changed and I have changed, but it’s a process that never stops.
Several of us are already tearing into theses. Most of the first class spent last semester with book after book strewn across desks and pots of coffee burbling atop cheap chipboard counters as curses and exclamations of excitement hammered into the ceiling and (in some cases) woke up our neighbors. To speak personally the process is not always an endurance test as it is a literary fist fight going on in the mind. There are influences, images, plot lines, and memories all warring for the forefront of the work. It is exhausting, but it’s one of the only fights I deem worthwhile. The strain is a real one and the stress is like granite, but the work is what matters and the work keeps going.
It’s a grueling process to write an entire book in under a year. Some breathed newness into old drafts while others wrote from scratch. In both cases the end writings were entirely unique and showcase the improvement of each writer over the course of the program.
For a few of us the program is ending, but the writing is not. There will be new people and new places and old words written in new lines.