We asked directors, coordinators, and professors of full- and low-residency MFA programs to offer some advice for prospective students trying to decide which programs are right for them. Here’s what they said.

MFA applicants should read the books of faculty members in numerous programs, with the ultimate hope of finding not just a mentor, but an aesthetic ally. When I applied to graduate programs I checked dozens of books out through interlibrary loan, covered the names up with sticky notes, and read the work with no knowledge of the author’s identity. As writers, we know when we’ve found the writing of a kindred spirit, or someone who makes us consider the world in a new way. I recommend giving as much weight to the page as to the name.
Mary Biddinger
University of Akron in Ohio

Beyond important stats on the website—program and class size, duration, funding, teaching and editing opportunities, faculty Who’s Who, curriculum (genre workshops? more?), alums—lies a program’s personality. So surf the web, e-mail, phone, or visit, asking:  How accessible are faculty? Does the program interact with department, campus, town? Will you starve on the stipend? How’s the food? How’s the artistic mischief in and around the program? Are genres separate camps? Do the readings rock? Who edits the mag? Do the classes make you want to write? Does the aesthetic bent get bent? Where are people from? What do they do on Thanksgiving?
Robin Behn
University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa

Talking to students who are in the program right now is key. They can
give you the lowdown on the tone of the workshops and the atmosphere of the program. Read the work of the writers on faculty and match yourself up with writers whose work challenges and excites you. Consider the variety of electives and internship possibilities—if you are moving to a new location, immersion in place is an education of its own. Find out how flexible the program is about experimenting in a second or third genre. Trust your gut, but don’t go into too much debt.
Aurelie Sheehan
University of Arizona in Tucson

When applying to MFA programs, I asked myself three questions: Did I like the work of the faculty? (Don’t apply anywhere unless you do.) Did the program support its students financially, either with fellowships or teaching assistantships? (It makes no sense to go into debt for an MFA.) Was the program located somewhere I wanted to live? (Life goes on while you’re in school.) It’s always good to talk to faculty members and current students to get a sense of the moods and attitudes of a given school, and to visit if possible, but for most people these should be the three primary questions.
Geoffrey Brock
University of Arkansas in Fayetteville

Applying MFA students should consider: (1) Whether they want to relocate. If not, a low-residency MFA program might be the best choice. If yes, traditional MFA programs might work. (2) Whether they prefer MFA programs representing all literary genres, or programs focusing on one or only a few closely related genres. (3) The quality of books published by MFA faculty. (4) Each program’s commitment to quality teaching. Applying students should query active students. (5) The ambience of each program: Look for high aesthetic standards and a supportive environment that lends itself to the nurturing of new art.
Stephen Haven
Ashland University’s low-residency program in Ohio

Prospective students tend to sweat too much over the status of the program, but the important thing is to find a place where you can write and learn how to live as a writer. This is a time to dedicate yourself to the art, so you need to think about what will allow you to do that, and what will get in the way. Some writers thrive on competition and big communities; others need peace and quiet. Not every program suits every writer. Pay attention to how faculty and students strike you. This is a relationship, not a buffet.
Martin Corless-Smith
Boise State University in Idaho

What to consider when applying to MFA programs: Where: Do you want to be a city mouse, with myriad distractions that might stimulate your work; or a country mouse concentrating entirely on that piece of cheese? Size: A small cohort of your peers whose personalities and work you will come to know well; or a large group in which it might be possible to work quietly and almost anonymously? Reputation: Are the faculty members writing novels and poems that you respect, admire, and feel you can learn from; are the alumni, celebrated or not, doing the kind of work you would like to do, and is it appearing in the places you would like to be in? Aid: An artist should be willing to make sacrifices for his or her art; nonetheless, it is grand to have one’s tuition covered. Teaching: Can one teach creative writing workshops both at the university and in the wider community? Nature of the program: Do you want a leisurely experience, one that might last for some years, during which you might discover yourself as a writer (and find a spouse); or would you prefer an intense, rigorous, and even scholarly program? Would you learn most from a cohort that resembles you; or would you grow more from a workshop diverse in age, nationality, background, and interests? No program is right for everyone. Call some recent graduates and ask them about the experience. They will help you more than what I have written here to make the right decision.
Leslie Epstein
Boston University in Massachusetts

Faculty artistry is paramount. Read professors’ work! Do you get goose bumps? Ask MFA writers in the program if faculty show a genuine interest in their work. And are there generally enough assistantships to go around? Be wary of large workshops and/or ones with a remarkable number of non-MFA candidates in them. Can you work on a magazine or press? Can you teach a section of creative writing? Ask whether the program requires an electronic thesis. If so, will your thesis be subject to unbridled access on the Internet, access after an embargo period, or something else?
Wendell Mayo
Bowling Green State University in Ohio

Choose a program with professors whose work you love, though certainly be open to aesthetic diversity. Place matters, whether it’s loud and clanky cityscapes that feed your work or easy access to Walden Pond. And, of course, don’t neglect such practical considerations as the financial package you’re offered, cost of living, the presence of a reading series, access to museums, teaching opportunities, the chance to help staff a literary journal. You’ll likely learn as much from classmates as professors, so surround yourself with other engaged writers, as measured by where alumni have published. Before signing on the dotted line, ask current students what they like and don’t like about a program. Finally, throw yourself into the maelstrom and don’t look back.
Lance Larsen
Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah

There are many factors one should consider. The quality of the faculty. The size of the program (if too small, it can feel incestuous; if too big, you can get lost). The location. Is there an opportunity to teach? How expensive is tuition? Finally, visit a workshop if you can; go out with the students for beers. You’ll learn more about the program that way than from all the statistics you can compile. At Brooklyn College, we get over five hundred applications for fiction alone. It’s two years of your life. It’s worth making the trip to see the program up close.
Joshua Henkin
Brooklyn College in New York City

Be practical, and not practical. Writers have to be both: Start now. The prospective student should pay attention to pragmatic issues: Get a good financial arrangement, at least keep your debt under control; look for the teaching and editing programs that suit you best, a city you like, writers you want to meet. But pragmatics mean nothing if the program won’t make you a better, more fulfilled artist, and that part of the decision is subtle and personal and sometimes surprising. Before you decide, try to visit, watch a workshop. Try to see the teachers and students in downtimes, for example, just before or after class: Those are revealing. And don't be afraid to make an intuitive choice—you'll be making lots of them later, if everything goes right. Hope this helps.
Andrew Levy
Butler University in Indianapolis

Here is the most important thing: The best MFA program is the one that’s best for you—for your writing and related professional aspirations. Don’t rely on any “best of” guides or hearsay. Know your writing and where you want to take it. Are you an essayist? Make sure there’s an accomplished essayist teaching workshops in your dream program. Read what the faculty members in your genre are writing. Read their latest works in journals as well as their books. If they have interviews, articles, or reviews, read those, too. Do an aesthetic check. How likely are they to understand and embrace your vision? Are they superstars? Make sure they actually teach classes. Writers often teach or work as editors. Will your dream program allow you to teach and edit? Look for in-house and national literary journals, a solid reading series, a sense of community, and an opportunity to teach creative writing as well as composition.
Jocelyn Bartkevicius
University of Central Florida in Orlando

Prospective students should ask, What makes this program different from any other MFA program? Is there a specific focus? Are there certificates or concentrations that add value to the program? Prospective students should also quiz both current students and alums about the kind of relationships they have with the faculty. Are these relationships nourishing and sustaining (that is, do they continue beyond graduation)? Do the faculty seem too busy or overworked? What is the student-faculty ratio? Are there examples of faculty going above and beyond their job description to help students?
Sheryl St. Germain
Chatham University in Pittsburgh

My advice for people looking to apply to an MFA program is research the program extensively: See what classes are offered, what the sizes of the workshops are, what kind of funding opportunities are available, and who’s there. Indeed, this last point bears repeating. Too often I find students have no idea what the aesthetics of the faculty are. As we know, the “ranges of the possible,” to use the title of a recent anthology, are immense. Know the faculty’s poems, stories, essays; feel some spark of connection. And talk to current grad students about working with the faculty; both writing and teaching generosities vary widely.
Matthew Cooperman
Colorado State University in Fort Collins

Current students are the best and most accurate sources of information. Ask questions. Bear in mind: All workshops are not the same. Ask about size, time, and format. Are responses verbal, written, or both? Is faculty generous with its efforts? Is faculty available? All is not workshop—what are the additional requirements? Are the elective seminars and lectures exciting, varied, challenging, and useful? Are there supplemental courses of study? All is not classroom—inquire about extracurricular events, professional opportunities, and post-MFA guidance. Is there community and camaraderie? All is: How are (relatively recent) alumni faring? Publishing what and where? Prizes? Fellowships?
Binnie Kirshenbaum
Columbia University in New York City

I think students should ignore national rankings and take each MFA program on its own merits. Our program, for instance, is small, intimate, egalitarian, and intensive, and focuses strongly on teaching as well as writing. We think that what we have to offer is great, but some students might prefer a larger, less guided, more competitive environment, or one that doesn’t encourage teaching. Young writers need to think hard about what they need in order to be excellent, and find the program that will help them get there; they should consider their artistic and professional goals before they apply. Do your homework: Read professors’ work, research the town the school is in, e-mail current students. And once you’re accepted, visit if you can.
J. Robert Lennon   
Cornell University in Ithaca, New York   

It surprises me when students applying to our program do not take the time to read the work of our faculty. Do your homework and read the work of writers you want to study with. That won’t always tell you if that writer is a good teacher, but it’s a start. Students can’t help but be influenced by their mentors, so make sure a faculty has gender, racial, and age diversity, as well as an aesthetic range. Ask about the kind of community the program fosters—supportive or competitive? And finally, don’t take the easy way of trusting the rankings, which can’t begin to represent some of the rich and interesting programs that are out there.
Anne Marie Macari
Drew University in Madison, New Jersey

A vital step is deciding between traditional, continuous-residency programs and brief- or low- residency programs like our own. For many, brief-residency programs offer the flexibility of time and location that hectic schedules require, and yearly residencies are great opportunities to interact with an ever-rotating variety of writers and editors in inspiring settings. Writers whose interests stretch beyond literary fiction—say, writers of genre or commercial fiction—may also find support in our own brief-res program. Those seeking a sense of community can find brief-res programs that offer options like real-time online workshops or opportunities to edit a literary magazine.
Young Smith
Eastern Kentucky University’s low-residency program in Richmond

Familiarize yourself with the work of the writers who teach in the programs that interest you. Find out if those writers are dedicated teachers—you want to be honestly and vigorously pushed beyond yourself, neither coddled nor lacerated. Visit if you can, talk with current students and, if possible, alums. Is there a strong record of graduate publication? Check recent offerings, talk with the graduate-program director and ask focused questions. Do literature classes and electives fit well with workshops to form a broad-ranging but coherent advanced curriculum? Is there evidence that the program fosters community? Toxicity doesn’t help creativity, and suffering writers mostly suffer—and write in spite of it, hopefully. Check out costs, cost of living, work opportunities, and fellowship availability. What are the possibilities for teaching and teacher training? Go in trepidation of “The Rankings,” that stone tablet on which the axe has been sharpened to its acutely subjective edge. Successful investors do their own legwork, and you’re investing in your writing life and your future.
Daniel Tobin
Emerson College in Boston

After deciding on either a full- or low-residency program, you have three basic questions regarding the best-fit MFA program for you. First is the quality of the faculty. Faculty, however, need not only be well-published writers but also writers trained in the genres in which you are interested, as well as excellent and committed teachers. Second is the program’s ability to meet your specific interests (e.g., does it schedule meetings with agents and editors, offer internships in publishing, teaching opportunities, overseas options). Finally, since a program should feel like a writers community, it’s a good idea to interview students about the sort of environment you will be entering.
Michael White
Fairfield University’s low-residency program in Connecticut

Looking for a writing program is like drawing a self-portrait. Be sure the programs to which you apply are all good fits in terms of studio-academic mix, writing community, finances, opportunities, location. Investigate further upon your acceptance because transferring is costly. Beware of hype and ask yourself again if you are ready to make the commitment to your own creative growth. The program should employ tenured faculty. Part-time and visiting writers won’t be responsible for most of your experience. Look at student results: Interview current students. The character of a program is unlikely to change dramatically in two to three years. 
Cathryn Hankla
Hollins University in Roanoke, Virginia

In considering the best creative writing program for a particular student, that 
student should start by looking at the faculty who teach in a particular program. Does the student find the faculty to be the type of writers whom he or she would like to work with? If so, then ask about the faculty’s reputation as teachers. If a student does not have the right teachers, then everything else is irrelevant. A student should ask about financial support, the type of student community, and the larger orientation of the program. Is the program principally focused on craft or does it involve graduate work in literature? And applicants should definitely communicate with current students. It is important to remember that a student should want a graduate creative writing program that will best enable that student to become an original and disciplined writer. Financial support is important, but it is not everything. Ultimately, it is the quality of the education that should receive the most important consideration.
J. Kastely
University of Houston in Texas

The most important aspect of an MFA is its faculty. Pick a program staffed by writers whose work you admire. Beware, however, that some MFAs list faculty who may be on sabbatical, who only teach once every year or two, who teach courses that are oversubscribed and you may not be able to get into, or who only teach a few evenings per year, rather than full-length courses. Before you apply, ask the program administrator exactly what the teaching roster will be, and whether you will be guaranteed admission to the classes. Also ask current students how accessible the faculty members are, outside the classroom. Finally, pick a program you can afford. There's no correlation between cost and quality, and many of the very best MFAs cost nothing to attend.
Gabriel Packard
Hunter College in New York City

When applying—and, more crucially, if accepted—to a low-residency program, request: (1) a residency schedule—you want to know if seminars, as opposed to lectures, form the craft curriculum, and whether faculty or graduating students do most of the teaching; (2) sample faculty distance-learning responses—these come closest to a class visit; and (3) student work samples—programs showcase only their successes, of course, but a program should have successes to showcase. Examine alumni accomplishments, but correlate them to the age of the program. The program that’s proud of itself will invite you to contact students and alumni, and its faculty will contact you. Visit an ongoing residency if you can.
Steven Cramer
Lesley University’s low-residency program in Cambridge, 
Massachusetts

Look closely at the faculty bios of different MFA programs. It’s not only important to work with writers you admire, but also with a broad range of faculty in different genres—poetry, fiction, screenwriting, drama, and creative nonfiction. Be sure to take into consideration the cost of the MFA program. Be on the lookout for those programs that offer tuition remission, generous stipends, and so on. Make sure the teaching load of TAs in the MFA program is reasonable. Be on the lookout for editorial possibilities with journals and publications. Find out from MFA students why they chose the program they’re in over other possibilities. Was the location a factor? Often a writer can be stimulated by being in new and unfamiliar territory.
James Wilcox
Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge

While writers should consider the size, cost, and location of a program, along with faculty, curriculum, and opportunities for teaching and internships, the core of any MFA program is its workshop. A good one lets you take risks. The atmosphere should be rigorous rather than competitive, with students invested in furthering one another’s work and faculty who support a variety of styles rather than championing just one. Ask if you remain with your cohort or meet new students each year, if workshops require critical reading as well as writing, and if there’s a thesis workshop or class.
Joyce Peseroff
University of Massachusetts in Boston

The University of Miami’s mission is to send writers and poets into the world to contribute to Contemporary American Letters. (WRITE BOOKS!) Time and space are important, but so are mentorship, funding, and community. Read the faculty. Their teaching philosophy grows out of their writing. Students will recommend good mentors. Seek full funding. Programs that believe in you will fund you. Talk to alumni and students about the program’s writing culture. Supportive? Divisive? Who are the program’s distinguished alumni? Read their books. Finally, ask the director what the program expects of its graduate students. Then see if the students agree.
M. Evelina Galang

University of Miami in Coral Gables, Florida

You don’t necessarily want to attend the program that offers you the biggest fellowship, but you should think twice about attending any program that charges you tuition. Even if you can afford to pay, the program isn’t making any commitment to you as a writer. Look for programs that offer roughly the same financial aid to everyone. How can anyone be objective if some people in the room are thinking, “I’m working two jobs to be here. She got a free ride. And she calls that a story?” Don’t be afraid of a program’s academic requirements. At most, you will need to take only a few literature courses. If you end up teaching in an English department, you will be glad that you read Chaucer and Moby-Dick. And everything you read can be inspiring. Don’t be swayed by promises that you won’t be required to teach. Sure, you might have a bit more time to write. But the chances that you will score a six-figure contract and never need to support yourself (or your family) are next to nil. Besides, teaching really does teach you a lot about your own writing. Visit every program you are considering and hang out with the current students. Your decision should depend less on the answers to specific questions than your gut feeling as to how happy you might be in that environment. How much do the faculty members seem to care? Do they merely show up for workshop and let the students run the show, or do they offer helpful criticism and suggestions? How talented and committed are the students? After all, you will learn as much—if not more—from your classmates as from the faculty. Is the ethos of the place that students are helping each other to succeed, or that they’re competing against one another? Twenty years from now, will your former classmates be willing to read your novel? To recommend you to an editor or an agent? Or will they say, “Sorry, you’re on your own!”
Eileen Pollack
University of Michigan in Ann Arbor

As for where to apply, I always encourage students to go by gut feeling. If a program feels welcoming, inclusive, and responsive on its website and other materials and in all dealings with you, it probably is, meaning you will likely be joining a real writing community. The names on the door do matter, somewhat, and full scholarships are wonderful, when available, but it’s much more important to feel that, disciplines and financial aid aside, you are in this together with every other writer in the room. I also tell students that the talent level of one’s peers and teachers is important, but talent can crop up anywhere. Community, however, is something a program either actively cultivates or it doesn’t happen, and it’s through writing communities that new writers are most likely to get that first story, poem, or book published, or work produced, or find a first job or agent in this always-overcrowded field.
Michael Pritchett
University of Missouri in Kansas City

The first consideration is the faculty. The faculty become the leaders of the workshops (at the heart of most programs) and thus are the strongest voices heard in critiques, and indeed they control the direction of comments. And the faculty work one-on-one with students in independent study as well as on the thesis; they work with students in other, informal ways, too. So read the work of the faculty, choose a program that includes writers you admire, who write what you hope to write, who have published well (meaning not just with a New York house but even with a good literary [small] press) and recently. After you narrow programs down by faculty, select one that offers some sort of financial aid or—if it is a state university with little to offer—at least makes it easy to work and take classes. Look for programs that allow you to work on a literary journal, too. Look at programs whose graduates have published well, and at those with WITS programs. Most programs will allow you to sit in on classes or to contact current or former students.
Mary Troy
University of Missouri in Saint Louis

 “A rose is a rose is a rose,” but an MFA is not an MFA is not an MFA. So, how do you choose a program that’s right for you? Start with reading the work of the faculty, but don’t stop there. Look for programs that offer opportunities to study with diverse and prominent visiting writers. The curriculum should be progressive and challenging with interdisciplinary, cross-genre, and crosscultural courses that encourage scholarly and creative development. Small class size is key for optimal attention on your work and for mentorship. Look for professional opportunities in teaching, literary publishing, and literary archives. Finally, search for unique programming aspects such as letterpress printing, teaching in the schools, or flexibility in taking courses both in person and online.
Michelle Naka Pierce
Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado

As Joseph Campbell often and rightly said, “Follow your bliss.” An MFA is neither a credential nor a career path. It is an idyll, two or three Arcadian years in the company of people who love what you love and are happy to devote themselves to something little valued and even less understood outside their charmed circle. Choose with love and devotion in mind. Seek a program where the faculty are women and men whose works you truly enjoy and where the students are genuinely fond of and genuinely inspired by one another. In the years to come, it is not the climate or the stipends you’ll remember. It will be the company you kept.
Donald Revell
University of Nevada in Las Vegas

Much of your happiness in an MFA program will depend on two relationships: the one with your instructors and the one with your fellow MFA students. For the first, find out the degree of faculty accessibility. How often do instructors meet individually with students? How thoroughly do they read student writing? Are their comments constructive or deflating? What tone do they set in their workshops? Competitive or supportive? The happier students are with their faculty, the happier they are with one another. This translates into more productive workshops, more productive writing groups, and flourishing friendships. The writers you meet during your MFA experience will become your readers for life, the trusted friends to whom you send your manuscript drafts. Choose wisely. 
Sue Hertz
University of New Hampshire in Durham

Think carefully about which program would be the best fit for you. Visit. Meet with faculty, sit in on classes, speak with students. Does the program offer teaching opportunities? Community outreach? A reading series? A student-edited literary magazine? How much fellowship support can you expect? And, most important, who teaches there? One of the greatest gifts an MFA program can offer is access to mentors. Writers come to NYU, for example, to study with Anne Carson, E. L. Doctorow, Jonathan Safran Foer, Yusef Komunyakaa, Sharon Olds, Charles Simic, Zadie Smith, and many others. These relationships can be vitally important—even life changing—for developing writers.
Deborah Landau
New York University in New York City

Go to some place that will inspire you and enlarge you as a writer—not just a program or university, but a landscape, a city, an environment where you will feel energized to write like mad. Choose a community of writers that will both support and challenge you. Know what you can bring to that community to add value to the experience of your fellow writers. Remember, the MFA is not a credential—it’s a transformative experience.
Philip Gerard
University of North Carolina in Wilmington

Time and money are uppermost in the mind of an MFA applicant and they are important considerations. What is the length of the program of study? How is the program structured; what balance does it provide among taking and teaching classes and getting time to write? Beyond these basic considerations, however—and perhaps more important—applicants should consider the quality of the community they are about to enter. First, who is on the faculty and what kinds of work do they produce? Ideally, an applicant should have a real desire to work with particular people, rather than choosing a program based solely on its financial package or structure. Second, what is the program’s size? Applicants need to decide what kind of atmosphere helps them flourish: a large, energetic, competitive atmosphere or a more intimate, overtly supportive one? Finally, applicants should look for diversity, as a way of determining the degree to which they will be challenged. Students who enter an MFA program with fixed ideas about their writing or their work-in-progress, with little flexibility or willingness to change and experiment, gain little from the experience. Ideally, a program will edge students just enough outside their comfort zones that hidden potentials come to light and grow.    
Tracy Daugherty
Oregon State University in Corvallis

Seek a program that will challenge you—one that is both rigorous and flexible. Do you want a full university residency or a low-residency program that fits a busy life? What faculty will you actually be able to work with, what range of styles do they represent? How many students does each carry? What kinds of attention will your work get? What specific courses are available or required? Is it a supportive community? What do graduates achieve? Most of all, are you aiming for an academic career or an ongoing writer’s life? These are not necessarily the same.
Stan Sanvel Rubin
Pacific Lutheran University’s low-residency program in Tacoma, Washington

Look for a faculty of extraordinary talent. Hands down, the defining aspect of the best programs is an accomplished, productive faculty who also teach with brilliance and good humor, and whose work reflects diverse styles and interests. The way to intuit that is to read their writing, including interviews. One should also seek a spirited community: a safe place to be an individual, a community that welcomes a range of writers, including those with an edge to them, or who see the world upside down. Wit counts, as does joy and a higher seriousness.
Shelley Washburn
Pacific University’s low-residency program in Forest Grove, Oregon

With myriad writing programs to choose from, what's most important is that students consider carefully the type of environment they need in order for their work to flourish. At Solstice we believe that our art does not thrive in a hierarchical, competitive atmosphere, but rather in one of mutual respect and encouragement. Find opportunities to talk with the staff, current students, and graduates of a program; ask how faculty members approach the workshop, the classroom, and the individual mentoring process; and finally, ask if there are opportunities for students who write across the genres, and if there is strong support for alumni. 
Meg Kearney
Pine Manor College in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

I think applicants should consider funding, program duration, faculty, faculty-student ratio, and reputation. Ideally, all students in a program should be fully funded. I’m an advocate of three-year programs and programs that offer post-MFA funding, because it can be very difficult to complete a strong manuscript in two years. Faculty is extremely important, but keep in mind that you may not get to work with every writer. Some questions to ask current MFA students: Do you have enough time to write? How available are faculty? Would you describe the program and community as supportive? Do you receive guidance about life post-MFA?
Porter Shreve
Purdue University in West Lafayette, Indiana

My MFA is from Iowa, the country’s oldest program, but now I direct one of the newest MFA programs, at Queens College in New York City. These two very different experiences lead me to this advice. First, find a program that believes in community building and bringing students together outside of class, through readings, events, the chance to work on a magazine, or form student-run workshops. Second, go to a program where you can do something very different from what you usually do as a writer. Step outside your comfort zone. This is the time to take risks. Nobody cares if we write, but you have to care so much you won’t ever stop. Go somewhere where you can make that happen.
Nicole Cooley
Queens College in New York City

Read the professors’ work. Obviously. You don’t want to send your hip-hop poetry to a coterie of diehard formalists, or your structurally inventive sci-fi novel to a program where all the fiction writers produce straightforward domestic realism. But a writer’s own work isn’t always a reliable guide to how he’ll teach. Some writers accept only clones; others scoff at imitators. Ask the current MFA students how responsive the professors are to different styles, how supportive, how available. Look for a program that encourages you to experiment some, and that offers not only a range of professors’ voices, but also a spectrum of courses other than workshops. Make sure you’re comfortable with the degree requirements, keeping in mind your career goals—remember, for most entry-level university jobs, you’ll need to demonstrate some teaching flexibility.

Lisa Zeidner 

Rutgers University in Camden, New Jersey

Choose a program with well-published, award-winning, nationally known faculty who actually mentor students; avoid programs with numerous adjuncts, or whose ‘stars’ teach every second or third semester. Choose a student community that’s diverse in ethnicity, age, and life experience, and an aid structure that doesn’t require competition. Consider geography: A program should promote internships and support access to a (usually urban) literary world. Look at design: A reading series fully integrated into the curriculum is unusual. Don’t go deeply into debt: You are committing to an artist’s life. Visit programs to which you are accepted and speak with current students. Be inspired.
Jayne Anne Phillips
Rutgers University in Newark, New Jersey

Don’t apply while you’re still in college. Write on your own for a while. Maybe you’ll thrive, maybe you’ll flounder—either way, the information about yourself will be valuable. Don’t apply because you think you kinda maybe sorta want to write. Apply only if it’s the only goddamn thing in the world you want to do. When you do apply, apply to many schools. Your chances get better with each application you send out. And if you get rejected everywhere, don’t despair. If you want to write, keep writing. You don’t need an MFA to fulfill yourself as a writer.
Brian Morton
Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, New York

Some key questions to ask about an MFA program: How diverse is the community? Is the atmosphere competitive or supportive? How many faculty members can I choose from? How much response to my work will I be getting from faculty? In addition to workshopping and reading contemporary texts, will I be reading the classics, learning literary traditions, literary theory, and skills such as form, meter, and dialogue? How flexible is the program? Can I work cross-genre if I choose? In addition to teaching opportunities, are there opportunities for community service, artistic collaboration, and other kinds of literary activity? How involved are alumni? 

Annie Finch

University of Southern Maine’s Stonecoast low-residency program in Portland

Once you make the fundamental choice between a full-residency program (three years, with traditional vacations and continued campus life) and a low-residency program (two years, work mostly from home, no vacations) you simply need to look into the programs by asking questions of the directors and some of the students in the program. (If directors won't connect you to current or former students, buyer beware.) Is the program hierarchical or more community-minded? Do big-deal 'visiting writers' actually work with students in workshops and master classes or just helicopter in and give a reading (see hierarchical)? Is there a focus on specific genres and subgenres? How many students in the program? (Smaller programs build tighter writing communities, in my experience.) Is there an advisory board of agents and publishers who actually interact with students? And of course that old chestnut, have any students come out of the program with publishable books (with a few examples of student/graduate contracts with agents and publishers)? Once you've received answers to those questions, your choice more or less makes itself.
Robert Begiebing
Southern New Hampshire University’s low-residency program in Manchester

First and foremost, ask what type of financial support you will receive and what the cost of living is in the area where the program is located. Then ask about the ratio of students to faculty and how many students are in the workshops. Ask the students in the programs what type of community exists and to what extent the faculty are involved in the community. Ask how many writers come to give readings or to teach as visiting faculty. And finally, ask if the program is more focused on career or on craft.
Christopher Kennedy
Syracuse University in New York