Job-Hunting Post-MFA

Fellow classmates,

To explain my recent consecutive absences, I've promised Rebecca to blog about where I've been, and how it's been going: the dreaded job hunt. In the past two weeks, I've spent 42 total hours in the car, traveling everywhere from upstate New York to the Black Belt in Alabama, interviewing for teaching positions in English departments as diverse as this campus, meeting with students, and generally putting my best face forward, which is exhausting.

(In Alabama, by the way, my "best face" was the fiance face. My boyfriend, also graduating this year from OSU's creative writing MFA program, took us to interview for positions at Judson College, a 192-student, all-girls' Southern Baptist College. We were warned by the head of the department--a hip thirty-something who wishes the campus who go co-ed--to pretend we were engaged, rather than "living in sin," as we do here in Columbus, where our progressive adviser refers to my boyfriend as my "partner." I donned my great-grandmother's engagement ring, which has a re-sizing device on it, and kept my mouth shut most of the time. We'll hear about the jobs in two weeks.)

It is impossible for me to discuss the job hunt without discussing MFA programs in general. First of all, I'm a big advocate. My three years here at OSU have been incredible, not only for the time they've given me to write, but for surrounding me with people who obsess about 'narrative intentionality' and 'point of view' as much as I do. MFA programs of all disciplines help students hone their gift of time with the self-motivation necessary to pursue fine arts, and introduce us to people in the field who can guide us in our future careers (is networking not one of the most important things we learn?). These programs also require of us final projects that translate into portfolios we can use on the job market.

But MFA programs have some downsides. The most major of these is that MFA programs produce a certain number of graduates per year with relatively comparable CV's, making it difficult for search committees at other universities to pick out the most worthy candidates. Now, I don't profess to be more experienced than my competitors. Most of my classmates in Denney Hall are excellent teachers and writers who deserve every opportunity to succeed. Some of my classmates are writing books I expect could redefine some of the genre lines of our MFA program (Caitlin and Sara are two of them). But when similar teaching credentials are placed side-by-side, the new criteria becomes publications.

I am twenty-five years old. I came to OSU immediately after my graduation from Ithaca College as an undergraduate. With a possible recession on the horizon, MFA programs are getting younger and younger; undergraduates look to the safety and experience a graduate program can provide. And I've gained invaluable teaching experience here in addition to writing. And I've even got a draft of my first book, which I expect to be completed by the fall. But that book is not published. Not yet. It is hard to convince a search committee of your potential--even more so that your potential is greater than another candidate's.

I try to tell myself that next year is not the end-all-be-all of my career. Most likely, my career and most of yours will continue to evolve for the next forty years. When I'm fifty, I'll probably have a hard time remembering that year I spent bumming around, doing odd jobs at twenty-five. But now, of course, I am panicked. Student loan repayments, health insurance, credit card payments--I can't remember the last time I slept through the night. I have to buy the expensive eye cream in order to combat the bags and dark circles that have made this one year look like ten. I wish I could set aside my penchant for instant gratification, and just be happy to have turned in my thesis on Monday, complete with a title I actually like and 200 pages of the most enjoyable prose I've ever written. I should be amazed that I wrote nonfiction based not in the depression I once anticipated, but in the joys I've discovered during my tenure here.

If I can offer any advice to third-year MFA students, it's this: don't spend your last year living between lives--the one you're in, and the one you want. It makes both of them feel muted. Remember that despite any successes around you, most of your peers aren't sure how they're going to make their degree translate into a career, and that we chose the fine arts field because we love it, not because it's necessarily secure. Learn, if possible, to embrace the decades ahead as uncertain, and to trust that your career--unlike that of say, an accountant--ages well. Our art gets better with age; this is practically inevitable if we never stop working. And though teaching provides a reliable paycheck, and though students provide energy for our own pursuits, we remain ultimately responsible for the growth of our work.

My apologies for what probably sounds so cliche. But this is stuff I've periodically forgotten this year. And the stuff I wish I could have channeled more when I was sitting in the interview seat. MFA students have already proven their dedication to work; that's how we've all gotten here in the first place. But it's easy to don your academic hat when going for a job. It's much harder to bring yourself into play.

I'm uneasy with the idea of saying I'm engaged when I'm not. I'm uneasy with the idea of required chapel on Tuesday mornings. I'm uneasy with how much I'll agree to when a job is dangled in front of me.

I have no answers. But it's good to be back. I look forward to seeing you all on Friday.