The Scheming Dreamer

In my never-ending quest for the next best thing, I've decided to attend graduate school in the UK.  My reasoning for this decision is two-fold:  first, to avoid getting another degree from the same school that granted me my others; second, to avoid having to tell people that I am enrolled in the MFA program through the University of Phoenix, or something like that.  Of course, the whole process of getting into a program, getting over there, getting money seems extremely complicated, and I am looking for any kind of short cut(s).

I started hunting out information by Googling, of course.  Sad to say, but I think Google is the new dictionary.  I have very clear memories of my Grandma and Mom going after the old Merriam-Webster to look up obscure words or references.  If I happened to be the one asking the question, then I was duly sent for the volume.  It was always a good life lesson in seeking out, and finding, correct information, so it seems inevitable that I should now watch movies with my lap top or IPod Touch next to me.  Not that Google necessarily yields sources of accurate information (wikipedia always tops the list), but sometimes just salacious details are good enough for me.  I did become the proud owner of The Oxford Companion to the English Language just last night, and it's wonderful -- very heavy with lovely thin pages... but it doesn't have a browser.

All this to say that I Googled "Graduate School in the UK" a few days ago (it doesn't take me long to decide to change the course of my life).  First, I looked at the University College London and went directly to their graduate (or postgraduate) studies page.  Wowsers.  My diploma reads quite simply "Master of Arts: English" or something along those lines.  Of course, my school offers other English-area MAs, such as TESOL, MFA, rhetoric, but those words aren't in the degree name.  UCL, on the other hand, offers three MA degrees: first, MA: English Linguistics; second, MA: Issues in Modern Culture; third, MA: Shakespeare in History.  Fortunately, I'm not interested in anything like this.  Probably good because I don't think they'd take me.  And I can't help wondering what on earth will those graduates do with their degrees?  Become really poor academics?

Next, I Googled "MFA programs UK."  And, according to Kingston University in London, these programs are relatively rare.  Apparently Kingston's is the first, but Oxford does offer something called Master of Studies -- whatever that is.  You'll have to do better, Oxford, if you want to snag my American genius.  The appealing thing, though, about Kingston is that they prepare a student for a "career as a publishing writer and as an accredited teacher of creative writing."  Very nice.  The problem -- just how do I manage the move?  According to the Fulbright website, I would have to start applying now if I wanted to be in the UK and hard at work in a year's time.  Not to mention the portfolio I would have to have ready for the school itself.  Sheesh.  Can't someone just invite me over? Couldn't some head of a university say, "Hey, we need someone over here to dumb us down a little! We'll pay your way!"  That would be brilliant.

I have also been considering registering for some Creative Writing classes at my alma mater.  I did minor in Creative Writing when I was in college, but I seem to have rather pathetically lost my touch.  The thought of scraping together twenty poems or a 50,000 word memoir/novel from my scarce and even dull life experiences seems altogether daunting.  My real plan for re-enrolling, if I'm honest and I do try to be, is to steal someone else's work and submit it as my own.  None of that over-the-top, I'm-going-to-shock-your-socks-off-by-making-as-many-drugs-and-sex-references-as-possible stuff.  No, that's been done.  Only top drawer for me.  I'll know it when I read it.

There are several things, however, that could derail me from my plan, not the least of which is myself.  If I really imagine myself as a student again, in a classroom half-way around the world with other writers, it simply overwhelms me.  The Plan (as I now call it because, well, that's what it is) is very exciting in and of itself.  What aspiring English-language writer wouldn't want to study in England?  It's like Jerusalem, Rome, and Mecca all rolled into one for anyone who reads English Literature. But, I can just see myself having a bad first week and promptly booking a ticket for a return flight to Seattle.  It's also just the audacity of hoping for something so different and, for me, so big.  It feels as if I stand on the very cusp of greatness itself, and it's up to me whether I succeed or I fail. All of this, of course, is pure dramatics, most likely brought on by eating way too much sugar and not enough protein.

On the more practical side of the issue is the idea of the MFA itself.  During my vague, somewhat aimless research on MFA programs, I came across blogs and opinion pieces that call into question the validity of the degree.  Some argue that writers can achieve much the same result by simply attending writing seminars. And they cost a lot less.  Others argue that MFA programs have a tendency to churn out cookie-cutter writing.  It's an interesting argument that I hadn't considered before.  Of course, it makes sense.  If the people teaching these courses have developed similar types of writing, and show a certain proclivity for certain styles of writing, then it's obvious that the students attending these programs should alter their own voices to fall in line with the preferences of their instructors.  The problem is that these instructors are, I imagine, people who have had some success in the world of literature and for that reason are products of their time.  Twenty years from now, their way of writing will read as dated.  But it could also be true that the writers of today will set the standard for what is popular down the road.

I have spent far more time contemplating the positive aspects.  There are benefits to being in a group of writers, especially in programs such as these.  I would imagine that spending a year or two with other writers and working with tutors would only benefit a person's writing, but it would also change it.  From here on out, my train of thought gets convoluted and just silly.  Enough is enough.

In conclusion, if I happen to approach you for a portfolio of your poetry or fiction, don't ask questions.  Similarly, if I ask for new material or any updates to what I've already taken, just do it.  I'm really looking out for your best interests.  Just imagine the millions of dollars you could make blackmailing me after I've become famous off your work!  Failing that, there is still the University of Phoenix.  I'll let you all know what I think of cyber-classrooms and virtual-academics.