The Creative Writing PhD and the Job Market

At Ohio University we had a professional development meeting recently and I asked the panel (CW, lit and rhet-comp profs who had all sat on various hiring committees) if the CW Phd was, truthfully, any kind of factor on the university job market.

The first answer was that schools such as Iowa or Michigan only hire writers with an established presence. "A book" isn't enough, and the PhD isn't the criteria either. That NYU hired Jonathan Safran Foer, who doesn't even have an MFA, comes to mind.

But---if the goal is a job at a smaller, liberal arts school then a PhD is a plus, because it gives you flexibility in teaching. (And yes, the CW PhD counts here). OU has placed people in this kind of tenure track job. It was also noted that if quality of life is a consideration, a smaller school might be a happier landing than a shark tank program.

Interesting to me, was how the three English Department fields have different criteria for an attractive resume.

For Rhet-Comp, teaching is critical, and demonstrated ability of administrative experience (by this I mean running a conference, not typing and filing. Althooooo. How else does one run a conference?)

For Lit, an established presence as a scholar is the thing. Too many committees, etc. might even count against an applicant, because he/she might be seen as not being serious about their research.

For us, the ability to help out with the lit mag or run the reading series makes everyone perk up. Because nobody wants to do this stuff. Grant writing ability is also a plus. Because writers never have any money.

The final tip was that grads who want a university job can’t leave the ivory tower. Not after the PhD. Grads have to adjunct or post-doc or whatever to remain in the pool.

Except the rules are always different in the arts, because there aren’t rules. Write a best-selling book that’s also a critical darling---and that NYU gig is yours. And who wouldn't rather be the sexy hire than the paper slave?

Things around The Office are awkward

First, I have an admission. Admonish me if you will, but my husband and I recently bought a television. A 20somethig inch plasma HD flat screen DVD thingie that also shoots fireworks from its butt. This television is pretty glorious, beating out the old standby we used for the past 2+ years of laptop dragged over to the coffee table with auxiliary computer speakers to blast the sweet sounds of Jersey Shores: Season 1 on DVD.Oh, oops, I meant to say Ken Burns Presents The Civil War on DVD.

That totally explains why I never post to this blog.

I was on the no-television wagon for a couple of years and thought I was finding my real purpose in life in an existential sense—I was one of those I Don’t Need A Television folks!—for surely I could find satisfying amusement in knitting, mounting wall racks or lacquering an upcycled porch swing. Then I fell off that wagon. Not hard or particularly jarring, the falling. But now my television keeps me from helping starving orphans. And my dog is getting a little bit fatter.

And there is a lot of crap on television. And I hate every glassy eyed moment spent watching Million Dollar Money Drop. But I do it anyway. So here we get around to Thursday nights. The Office is on NBC in prime time perpetuity.

I don’t think I’ve seen an episode since we gorged ourselves on The Season Where Pam and Jim Get Married at the End. Around this time, I was working in a cold office under a bridge at a Big Ten University dying for some human interaction that didn’t involve hashing out the intricacies of OMB Circulars as they relate to institutional funding. (No really, it’s a riot. You should check it out. ) And when I was doing that during the day, it’s own kind of cubicle-related typical desk job, I was honestly in hysterics with the show. Loved it!

Now that I’ve been in a new position—as a certified writer! Okay, so “content producer”, but that, in large part, actually means I write things from scratch and edit it and get feedback from others—at an e-learning company for a couple of months now, I was ready to embrace the show again. It was time. I still sit at a desk. At a desk job. In a non-academia setting. This is a perfect! I’ll love The Office, because I’ll learn valuable skills about being endearingly charming when I meet someone over at the copier at my company. I can replicate something that one of the people on the show did! It’ll be great.

Instead I just squirm through the 22 minutes. It feels so awful to see the characters roboting around inside the little windowless, wall less space. Communicable disease! Awkward personal relationships exposed! Boss says something to make the company look bad! You just asked the secretary to do some menial task you were too lazy to do! You’re lying about that sick day! You can’t download that on a work computer!

Does this mean I like my new job?! As in truly satisfied with the way things are turning out? Could it be?!

Is like for The Office the perfect inverse of like for the office?

On Solicited Submissions

One benefit of the MFA followed by the PhD, is that I am slowly but surely amassing contacts. AWP is now an event where I can meet up with old friends, who, theoretically, should all one day be directing programs and will naturally want their old crony, me, as the visiting writer. Well, maybe someday.

I did experience a little brush with schmooze payoff recently when I received the call for my first (insert coronet herald here) solicited submission from a friend who is fiction editor at a lit mag. Finally, a bit of nepotism working in my favor. Of course, when I was first starting out the idea of solicited subs appalled. But when I read for Cutbank I learned how hard it is to find work you are actually excited about. I was nonfiction editor for a year and never came across one publishable piece (aside from the contest we held). I see that the essays in the latest issue are by Montana luminaries William Kittredge and Judy Blunt.

Anyway, I sent a story I wrote while at Montana, my first story that got “the nod” from workshop, and was nominated by the faculty for Best New American Voices. Given this stamp of approval, it seemed to me some lit mag somewhere should take this story. To date I had sent this story out to 12 places. Granted, one of these rejections was from The Atlantic Monthly (among other luminaries). I had received two “almosts” as well. But as we all know “almost” is simply “no” with a “thanks” tacked on.

Then I was ASKED about this story (in particular). Dee McNamer at Montana used to call getting a finished piece published “finding it a home.” While much my work goes in the RIP file on my desktop, I also keep a file of those stories I believe deserve adoption. This poor, orphaned story had languished in a folder surrounded by twenty other versions of itself for two years.

Now, “solicited” does not mean “guaranteed publication,” although I suppose this changes from mag to mag, and depends on the writer. A new J.D. Salinger story I’m guessing = automatic yes. At NOR, solicitation does not guarantee publication. I happen to know that the editors have asked colleagues for work only to find themselves in the awkward situation of turning it down. This, apparently, has created some major AWP dagger eyes moments. Imagine fancying yourself an “established” writer only to be told 1) your work didn’t cut it and (worse) 2) you aren’t famous enough that someone would publish it anyway.

As a newbie I didn’t have huge expectations. But I hoped. So I sent off my story that has a baseline narrative about a young woman who struggles with a possible pregnancy juxtaposed by a quirky, wordplay thru line, only to find out that the editor had just accepted a story that has a baseline narrative about a young woman who struggles with a possible pregnancy juxtaposed by a quirky, wordplay thru line. Scooped.

On Visiting Writers

When I applied to Montana, one of the lures was I saw writer crush Aimee Bender on the schedule as a visiting writer. O palpitating heart! What’s more, Bender lived up to the dream. She was funny and smart and conducted positive yet insightful workshops. 2007 was the Year of the Rugged Manfictioners, so we women writers followed her around like imprinted goslings.

Since then I’ve met many visiting writers. Robin Hemley, Charles D’Ambrosio, Mary Gaitskill—to name a few. Here at Ohio U, we get to have lunch. At this opportunity, I perk up, for I am great at lunch. I can lunch like a Mad Men exec. I may or may not be able to write, but sandwiches and beverages, I can do.

Then I went to NonfictioNOW. This was a great conference. It was. I met an amazing variety of writers, many well-known, respected people I had heard about. It was all going so well. Then, I was about to introduce myself to a writer I love, who has impacted my life (no kidding), and whose presentation I had purposefully stalked, when I felt a complete and utter hopelessness. (although I can't rule out the Ethiopian food) What was the point? I would say hi. She would say hi. I would make my witty remark. Haha, she would reply. Chit then chat. And scene.

I had hit the visiting writer saturation point.

I kind of blame George Saunders. After him, it’s as though there’s no point in another visiting writer. He gave a great lecture. He gave a great reading. He was personable and put everyone at ease. He does a great lunch. He graciously praised the bio I wrote for our Literary Festival tabloid. He remembered my name. He went out for a beer (but not too many beers) at the local writer’s bar, where he did NOT grope or ogle the doe-eyed ladies who followed him around like imprinted goslings. (Question: Why do men not imprint?)

Then he was gone.

That. Was that.

As MFAers, when we show our work to the visiting writers, we are supposedly in search of feedback. What we are really hoping is that they will weep with joy, curse our genius and race to call their agents. Or at least one might take in interest in us. Or suggest we submit this piece someplace they have an in. It’s not that this never happens, I suppose. But it’s never happened to anyone I know. That I know of.

Because what you realize, is that all these writers are visiting other programs and residencies and whatever else all the time. In other words, they are seeing other people. This is an open relationship. And writers are usually not editors or agents. Rather, they are trying to get their work out there just like us. And that’s their priority. They aren’t talent scouts.

Mostly, I’ve realized that what I learn from visiting writers, is how to be a visiting writer.

Is MFAland Real?

Oh, how small my little PhD world is, and how little it has to do with the swarm of people I saw stampeding Books-A-Million yesterday, where Twilight coasters lord over experimental flash fiction, lyrical essays and poetry.

Which inspired me to respond (although a bit late) to this article in Slate, which declares “two distinct literary cultures,” that of New York publishing and MFA programs. My first reaction was that the article was another dig at MFAs—those grad school writers can’t hack life in the big city. My second idea was that I could think of writers who were clear counterexamples to the argument.

Last year (for instance), I met Rebecca Skloot, who came to read and talk with our workshop. This was as The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks was blowing up. During lunch she had to excuse herself because Oprah called. THAT’S RIGHT THE BIG O. Skloot has an MFA from Pittsburg, freelanced for glossies, (but also published in lit mags), and was a nonfiction professor at Memphis, before writing the best-selling book. Montana grad Aryn Kyle published short stories in lit mags such as The Georgia Review before writing a book that wound up on the Costco table. Or what writer could be more esoteric, brainy, and MFA-ey than David Shields? Who was on The Colbert Report.

On the flip side, MFAland can get a bit small town. At Montana, you would have thought our workshop was the next turning point in literature the way we acted, even though it was the ten of us sitting around an oak table. You start to assume everyone keeps Alice Munro bedside. My cautionary, is that MFAland can feel so immediate that the larger picture is ignored. Hey MFAers, when’s the last time you read a book off the (current!) NYT bestsellers list? You begin to think that the entire writing world consists entirely of poetry, short stories and lyrical essays. And I've seen where artsy is rewarded over comprehensible to a wider audience.

Which means this post has now devolved into the unsolvable debate of “high” (Wallace Stevens) versus “low” (Twilight coasters) art. Which means maybe it’s time to go open gift-receipted presents and eat Paula Dean French Toast casserole like a normal person.

This one's rumored to be making the rounds among NYC editors and agents

P is for Publication!

I review Anthony Bourdain’s Medium Raw for Alimentum here.

For those who don’t know, book reviews are a nice way for an emerging writer to get a few publications. The Unattainable Quarterly might not give your short story the time of day, but they will probably publish your review. (I admit, this CV line might apply more to those of us striving for teaching jobs, than writerly fame.) Anyway, it’s a way to enter the conversation, and if your cover letter looks like West Texas, it’s a publication credit.

It’s also satisfying to be given an assignment, finish it, and then see your byline. All that workshopping can feel like a giant circle. I have stories I’ve been strokin' to the east and strokin' to the west for years now. Years! When editors actually need copy, they give slash and burn feedback to get your piece ready to go. What I’m saying, is that it’s a different experience writing for the express goal of publication, versus writing to write and hoping someone will like it.

Perhaps now you are wondering how you get someone to publish your review. I’ll be honest, mine were hook-ups from professors. So if you are in school or know someone involved with a lit mag, then ask them. I bet a cold query would work, too, though. I would present a few ideas for book reviews (to show you know the publication), and then ask for a suggestion. Chances are the editor has a pile of books stacked on the desk.

On Goals and Writing

Fellow writer and blogger about writing Ashley Cowger has put a shout out for writers to post about their goals here. This post is basically my comment box that spiraled out of control.

First, may I say be careful what goals you set. For instance, you might be granted all the writing time in the world. Then, there you are in a small Ohioan town during winter break, wandering the empty cobblestone streets, you and Your Book, showdown at high noon, time to shoot except both parties glance and shrug, too filled with ennui to pull the trigger.

When not slogging through my book these past weeks I've been slogging through the celebrated Cheever bio/tome from last year, and I'm struck by how he was continually dissatisfied. For us, a regular appearance in The New Yorker=Big Time Success (over 100 stories!), but Cheever spent age 20 to 42--his ENTIRE youth--bemoaning that he didn't have a novel. Then, when he did publish novels, he fretted that the reviews weren't glowing enough, that John Updike's wife was prettier, etc.

So, my first idea is that we have to guard against this idea of the “enough,” as in, no success is ever enough.

But then we also need goals.

I can see some of my “checklist” completed. (an MFA, publication(s) in a national magazine, a McSweeney’s list, short story acceptance from major journal. I’m in a PhD program and about to finish a book.) And yeah, with each of these accomplishments I squealed. The successes meant I wasn’t just some hack, one of those deluded people who fancy themselves a “writer” but go their entire life writing only for themselves (and sadly, for good reason).

As I check more goals off my list, and as I suffer the inevitable disappointments that come with “getting out there,” (for every goal achieved another dream is dashed) I’ve realized the only goal you can cuddle up with at night is to not suck. I want writers who I respect to look at my work and reflect to themselves, “hey, that doesn’t suck.” Granted, this is a lowered expectation from Great American Novelist status, but I have come to accept that only Nabokov is Nabokov. Good American Novelist remains quite the achievement. I also want, ultimately, for readers to pick up my work for the pleasure of it versus "I should try and get through this."

I have new goals. I want to write a fiction novel geared more for a wider audience than literary raves. My one acceptance to the one literary journal is gathering dust and it’s time to get out there again. I would love to be in a Best American Something. I’ve been attending writers’ conferences lately, and want to spend more time behind the podium than doodling on my program in the audience.

And before I get back to work on my latest big goal (Finish and Publish My Nonfiction Book) I will share my practical, superficial and admittedly supercheesy motivator: I visualize my resume.

Is This the Future of Journalism?

So this writer over at the Marie Claire blog said some really mean things in her review of Mike & Molly, a new show about two people who meet at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting and fall in love. Within 24 hours, the blogosphere had blown up and the offending piece had made national news. How could a writer be so tone-deaf? How did her entry get past the site's editors?

In the ensuing shitstorm, the writer, Maura Kelly, has issued a half-assed apology and the Marie Claire site has invited other writers to respond to the blog. The end result? Kajillions of hits and free publicity.

Once we have extricated ourselves from the public debate over the "obesity epidemic" in the United States, might we take a moment to acknowledge how this is just another case of stunt blogging, or deliberately taking an indefensible stance so as to drum up a firestorm of controversy and the ensuing commentary/attention for the blog in question and its parent organization?

What's fascinating to me about this case is the egregious nature of Kelly's comments, which are so baldly offensive as to challenge belief. And the writing itself was fairly clumsy for a national magazine's website. Wouldn't such a move, knowing or not, ruin one's professional reputation? Yet I can totally imagine a growing niche of stunt bloggers within marketing departments all over the country, trying to think of nefarious ways to generate interest in their companies' content/product. It reminds me of the recent episode of Mad Men, where Peggy and Pete are struggling to figure out a way to sell Sugarberry Hams, so they decide to stage a fight between two ladies at a local supermarket over the last Sugarberry Ham. Thus the birth of the slogan, "a ham worth fighting for." Easy peasy.

It remains to be seen whether the backlash will affect Marie Claire's bottom line over the long-term after the short-term bump in familiarity has faded. I'm guessing not. Something else will happen to get the public's ire up and they'll forget all about this stunt. Well, all but the names Marie Claire and Maura Kelly. And how they felt strongly about something related to these two names once. And, maybe if they go to the website, they'll be able to remember what the fuss is about.

George M. Philip, president of SUNY Albany, announced that the French, Italian, classics, Russian and theater programs were getting the axe.

UW Common Book: Poetry?

The University of Washington, like many universities across the country, has a "Common Book" program that chooses one book a year for all incoming freshman to receive upon arrival and, hopefully, read. This year, for the first time, UW has chosen a book of poetry. Well, "chosen" isn't really the right word. What they've done is develop and publish their own anthology of poems designed to "grab an 18-year-old."

I'm all for encouraging young people to read poetry, but why not an actual, single-author poetry book as they exist in the wild? The article linked above states, "The committee first considered a book by a single poet, but quickly rejected that idea," but does not explain why the idea was quickly rejected. Perhaps the committee could not agree upon a book that, in its entirety, would hold the attention of or feel relatable to a UW freshman. Which begs the question: Does such a book exist? The answer to which, I'm sure the committee believes, is "One does now, and it's called You Are Never Where You Are. And we made it special just for the occasion."

For context, past selections for the UW Common Book include:


Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, a Man Who Would Cure the World by Tracy Kidder (2006)

Field Notes from a Catastrophe: Man, Nature, and Climate Change by Elizabeth Kolbert (2007)

The Devil’s Highway: A True Story by Luis Alberto Urrea (2008)

Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama (2009)

It is intriguing that all are nonfiction books. Perhaps this is a coincidence. Or maybe one surefire way of relating to 18-year-olds is through stories that actually happened. God forbid anyone should have to suspend disbelief in the quest to enjoy reading.

In any case, I'm not sure I agree with the cherry-picking of poems, or books, to appease a particular audience's perceived preferences. Isn't exposure to unfamiliar and worldview-challenging media one of the great experiences of college life? Do we no longer expect our students to accept and meet the challenge of understanding what is initially foreign as part of that experience? Wouldn't it be great if we could give these students the benefit of the doubt and let them tackle a book of poetry without spoonfeeding it to them?

I recognize the tension between reality (not everyone likes to read; almost no one likes to read poetry) and the ideal (give them a chance to approach a book on its own terms and deal with their reading demons). University administrators want students to read. They also recognize the correlation between enjoyment and continued reading practice. Intellectual rigor falls through the cracks in favor of being encouraging. It's the same old story: dealing with the students you have vs. dealing with the students you want.

But does it work? Do any of these Common Books serve as gateways to a lifelong love of reading? Will the contrived collection of You Are Never Where You Are unlock the world of poetry for anyone? Will it do a better job than, say, Ariel or Lunch Poems? I'll have a better idea when I find out what poems were selected for the collection, I guess.

As a postscript, I wonder how much prevailing poetry reading habits played into the committee's decision to develop its own collection, i.e., the preference for reading and engaging individual poems on their own rather than reading them in the context of an entire single-author collection. This is not a fully formed thought. Just something that occurred to me in time for me to leave off this post and go pick my dad up at the airport.

Thoughts on Professional Courtesy

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about courtesy. Specifically, professional courtesy. Microscopically, the relative lack of professional courtesy running rampant in independent literary organizations of late. I don’t know whether this is actually a recent development or I’m just noticing it now because I (and a number of writers near and dear to my heart) have been on the receiving end of some bozo behavior.

Maybe you can tell me if any of the following scenarios sound familiar.

1.
Writer A queries the editors of Literary Journal X about the status of her submission, sent over a year before via an online submission manager where said submission has languished as “received.” Writer A receives no response. Over the ensuing months, writer A receives multiple marketing e-mails and calls for submissions from Literary Journal X, but still no response from the editors.

1. a.
Writer B queries the editors of Literary Journal X about the status of his submission, sent a long, long time back, via an online submission manager where said submission has languished as “received.” Writer B receives in response a form rejection e-mail sent through said online submission manager rather than an actual response from an editor.

1. b.
Writers C-ZZ wait patiently for responses regarding their submissions to Literary Journal Z. Postings to Literary Journal Z’s blog apologize for the longer-than-normal delay and assure submitters that responses will be forthcoming. Additional postings on the front page of Literary Journal Z’s submissions manager apologize for glitches. The responses finally arrive: Writer D receives 40 form rejection emails. Writer M receives 9.

2. Two of Writer Q’s poems are accepted by Literary Journal V and she is informed that they will appear in the following year’s issue, she will be paid $XX, and she will receive two contributor’s copies. The year comes and goes with no correspondence from Journal V. Writer Q finds out through the interweb that the issue of Journal V is out and politely queries the editors via e-mail regarding her copies and payment. **Crickets** A month later she receives her contributor’s copies in the mail with no check and no acknowledgement of her previous query. A month or so later, she e-mails the editors again. **More Crickets** A month or so after that, she visits Journal V’s website in an attempt to find some other means of contacting the editors and finds that the website has been revised and contact e-mail address is different. Again, she queries. **Lots of Freaking Crickets** Writer Q does some web sleuthing and finds contact information for the faculty advisor for the journal and contacts said advisor to no avail. It is only after Writer Q has e-mailed the head of the English Department at the University that hosts Journal V that she receives any word from the editors.

3. Writer P sends a submission (via e-mail, per Journal J’s guidelines) at 3:08 p.m. At 3:17 p.m., Writer P receives the following e-mail from Journal J’s editor:

Sorry Writer P--

Not this batch.

Pax,

Editor J
The next day, Editor J attempts to friend Writer P on FaceBook.


As isolated, rare occurrences, these experiences might make amusing anecdotes at literary gatherings. Unfortunately, the reality is that any similar anecdote is likely to be met with, “Oh, that’s nothing. Let me tell you what the punks from Journal/Press/Website L did to me…” Around about the 10th or 20th anecdote, a pattern emerges that is anything but amusing. Of course, we can come up with any number of explanations/justifications for this kind of behavior—“Yeah, well, writers are flaky.” “Aw, they’re probably just overworked grad students. Cut them a break.” “At least they put out a quality magazine.” But where does that leave us?

I’ve worked for literary magazines. I’ve written in this space about how not be an asshole when submitting to literary magazines. As an editor, I’ve dealt with all sorts of crazy writer bullshit. I understand all too well that working on a journal is a thankless job. I also understand that it’s a choice one makes. No one can be forced into litmag slavery. So yes, I am a little perplexed when the literary magazines I support, read, purchase, submit to, etc. don’t have the decency to communicate with me. I am disappointed when the editors of a journal assume that online submission technology absolves them of the responsibility to answer queries.

And yet, writers are asked to be grateful for any attention, any chance at publication. For the most part, I am. And in the grand scheme of my life, whether I hear back from a literary journal or not has very little bearing on my overall happiness. So why complain? I don’t really have an answer to that question. Just an observation: Courtesy is easily given. I think about the times when I was responsible for corresponding with contributors and, whether it was snail mail, e-mail, phone, or face-to-face interaction, the interaction didn’t really cost me that much.

So, I don’t know, maybe we could, as a community, come up with a set of guidelines for being a good editor. Any writer who has received the gold star treatment from a journal that has its shit together certainly must have some ideas on the matter. Thoughts?