Why Does It Feel Harder to Write After a Writing Degree?

Hello, writers! Long time no blog. I haven't been very active here lately because I've barely been publishing or submitting. Or even, for that matter, reading an actual book.

For the past couple of years, I've been making a slow transition out of my professional writing life toward... something completely different. Perhaps I'll elaborate on my rhymes and reasons in the future, but for now I'll just say that my new venture involved a challenging entrance exam, a historically competitive application season, and my current stage of many spreadsheets. (Numbers?! Ugh!)

So, all this was keeping me busy and taking most of my creativity/sanity, especially when it collided with tragedy and grief in my personal life, not to mention the insane winter weather. I'm happily back to writing regularly this spring, but as I'm focused on finishing my book, I have no newborn fledglings to kick out of the nest and into the queues of lit journal submissions.

I've been thinking about how we hold on to our identities as writers even when we don't have work out in the world, are moving into a new phase of life, or coming to the end of a journey.

Counterintuitive as it may seem, my confidence in my identity as a writer dropped to an all-time low when I first graduated from my MFA program. I was reminded of this phenomenon when corresponding with Nicolas Holt, whose poems you can sample here, here and here!

As a side note, I love how full and deep Nicolas's poems are: philosophical, witty, relentless. If you're wondering how to write a thrilling, fast-paced poem, spend some time with his voice. And okay, twist my arm, I will share my favourite lines:

1) sorry, I’m just confused

why gambling is illegal

in so many places when

that’s just what being born

is.

2) I too am addicted to myself

and need the future to be eaten by wolverines.

3) and I’m afraid that I’ll be flayed to ribbons, that

my skeleton is a popsicle-stick birdhouse of wrong-

end wishbones,

Anyway, Nicolas mentioned The Stagnancy: that monstrous gloom that settles over us as our shiny new writing degree hangs on the wall, sneering down at us in gold calligraphy. I would laugh, because it is so common to feel this way—except I was hysterical on the eve of my graduation, so I know how serious it feels in the moment.

Shortly before my graduation ceremony, I was sitting with a faculty member when I blurted out, "I'm not sure I'll write anymore."

I was exhausted, overwhelmed, disappointed, relieved, and scared. The only thing I knew for sure was that my writing life would never be the same again. I felt as though I was being exiled from the world of learning and experimentation, from my identity as writer-in-progress, to... nothing.

"How long have you been writing?" the faculty member asked me. We had never worked together, but he was so friendly and easygoing that I never found him intimidating.

I told him I had been a writer forever, since I was a child.

He said with a smile, "Then you're going to keep writing. But if you don't—in six months, send me an email and I will give you a prompt."

That day, this faculty member offered me exactly what I felt I was losing: accountability and an invitation to keep creating. It turns out, I never needed to email him.

Just like children—or my wonderful dog—we feel our best when we have both routine and adventure. After graduation, I was able to move forward in my writing life by finding new forms of structure and play out in the world.

Here are my suggestions for you.

Structure

• Enroll in a local or online writing class

• Hire a writing coach

• Attend writing conferences or retreats

• Organize your own writing group

• Set deadlines with friends

• Make a page or word count goal

• Complete a "daily grind"—write something every day for a month

• Make a list of writing craft books you didn't get around to

• Reread a favourite book and write a passage analysis

• Aim for 100 rejections

Play

• Write in a different genre

• Try a completely new art form

• Read nonfiction on subjects you know nothing about

• Go to a museum or art gallery, see a play, comedy show or concert

• Volunteer for a cause important to you

• Return to things you loved as a child, i.e., games, characters, songs, colours

• Keep a journal—make observations about your surroundings

• Try a clothing experiment: wear a colour you usually wouldn't, dress all in black for a week, find a costume for your writer self

• Do something for your body, whether it be exercise, beauty treatments, or a wonderful meal

• Challenge yourself to be creative every day for a month—but not by writing

It's in the spirit of structure and play that I created two new offerings for this site, my little internet home. The Sanctuary is yours to visit anytime, whenever you need space and time to write, plus a prompt to get you started. The Salon will open only for a solstice or equinox, and stay available for a limited time.

I hope both will serve as inspiration to anyone who happens to wander here. And if they help you to write a piece you're excited by, I'd love to read it.

Even though I will begin a graduate program this fall, I'm not that nervous about continuing my writing life. Yes, I will have to let go of certain luxuries, like hanging out in coffee shops every week with my writer friends, traveling for weekend retreats, or signing up for writing classes.

However, I know I will still carry a notebook around to scribble ideas between classes. I will read novels and collections on the bus. I will keep this online space alive to remind myself that no matter what, I am always a writer.

You are too.