Edit your writing sample for the thousandth time, then put it away and remember why you are a writer. Recall that Lorrie Moore line “First, try to be something, anything, else.” Write about why that advice hasn’t worked for you.
While you’re at work, consider why you write. Why are you composing a poem about ants when you should be filling out a spreadsheet? How did you design the fork in the plot of your short story while also memorizing a six-top’s drink orders? What will you make of this absurd, ungrammatical memo from your boss when you have time to write your memoir?
When you told your accountant uncle that you wanted to devote the next two years to writing, and he said, “But no one buys books anymore!” what did you say?
You buy too many books, or you bring huge stacks back from the library. Some of these you don’t finish. Others you throw across the room. But occasionally you read sentences you wish you had written. Other times as you read, you want to believe the words were written only for you. Write about this secret life of reading. Name the writers you’d place in your literary family tree. Who would be your mother? Who would be your second cousin?
Consider what you’ve learned so far about writing and how you learned it. List some of the things you’d still like to learn. List the reasons you want to study with other writers. Reflect on how to write a list in a way that charms or compels.
Ask yourself “Who is going to read this essay anyway?” Does the reader remind you of a famous author who, after you told him maybe too loudly how much you admire his work, stared at you blankly? Does the reader remind you of the person evaluating your insurance claim, looking for holes in the argument? Whoever they are, these are not your readers.
Here is a prompt: How do you feel when you hear someone say: “I’ve never written anything and don’t have time to read, but one day I’m going to write a best-seller.”
Consider pretending that writing has never been a struggle for you or that it arrives wholly perfect from the god of writing in the sky. Then tell yourself that if this were true, you wouldn’t bother with an MFA. Remember the week you were too exhausted to write more than one sentence. Recall the hours you spent on a brilliant, original essay only to find out later it made no sense. What about that night you were supposed to go to a party but instead sat down at your desk because you felt the flush of a new story? What did your best friend say to you that made you want to keep writing? How did you manage to write that poem, each word maybe exactly right? Whoever is reading this essay knows that having two years to devote to writing is a dream, but why is it your dream? Tell your reader all of this in your application essay. Take a nap. Pet your dog. Write the essay again.
René Steinke is the author of the novels Friendswood (Riverhead Books, 2014); Holy Skirts (William Morrow, 2005), a finalist for a National Book Award; and The Fires (William Morrow, 1999). She is the director of the low-residency MFA program at Adelphi University.
Thumbnail credit: Michelle Ocampo