“Sit In This”: Best MFA-dvice Ever

Posted on July 1, 2024 by gretchenwing

“Sit in this.” That’s what Lisa Locascio Nighthawk, Dean of Antioch LA’s Masters in Fine Arts in Creative Writing program, told us graduates the day before our ceremony.

Here on Lopez Island, some of my own writing group, the Women Writers of the Salish Sea, had the same advice: “Celebrate your achievement. Write it all down–everything you did!”

I decided to heed all of them. I sat in my achievement for a whole week. I wrote it all down, on a big piece of butcher paper. And I celebrated–with my writer friends, and with cake.

The cake, I made. But the Orange Twists were a special request from me to Iris Graville–as noted in her memoir Hiking Naked: A Quaker Woman’s Search for Balance.

Here’s what’s written on that butcher paper:

17 chapters—232 pages, 67,000 words—of my novel-in-progress Who’s a Good Girl (revised multiple times)

50 books read (mostly novels; some short stories, nonfiction, and craft books)
30 x 3-page literary analyses of fiction
One 5-page research paper
One 20-page research paper
One dozen (approximately) poems translated into English, plus commentary on peers’ translations
20 (approximately) critiques of peers’ 20-page fiction submissions in workshop
20 book group discussions (of which I led 4)
80 weekly email check-in discussions
Five 3-page self-analyses of learning
Five 7-page summaries of learning from residency classes
One 30-minute PowerPoint presentation/seminar

One 12-minute public reading
Four 3-page annotated bibliographies

One 12-page annotated bibliography

While we were noshing & drinking, my friends asked me to reflect on my main takeaways from the past two valuable, packed, and expensive years. Here’s what I came up with:

My instinct to immerse myself among a community of diverse writers–diverse in EVERY SENSE of the word, from age to class to life experience to race to gender identity, and more–was 100% correct. As a writer, I need to be around people different from myself. (As a human being, it doesn’t hurt either.)

[not pictured: all the diversity at AULA. I don’t like violating people’s privacy in showing photos]

2. Confidence is good, in art. Pride is not. I had to have the latter stripped painfully away before I could soothe the raw spots by applying the former. That’ll be a lifelong engagement.

3. Novelists need the help of other novelists. Poets and nonfiction writers can offer EXTREMELY valuable critique. But in the end…see sentence one.

OK, we got it. You worked hard. Now, about that novel-in-progress…

After a week of “sitting,” though, I’m ready to get back to work. Of course, it’s high summer now–a season that always has other plans for me than writing. But the last thing I learned will get me where I need to go, and that is:

4. Writing is writing. JUST DON’T STOP.

(You other writers: right? Feel free to chime in here with your own Writerly Takeaways.)

MFA in LA: Final Chapter

Posted on June 26, 2024 by gretchenwing

Two years and a couple of weeks ago, I deliberately stepped away from blogging. That’s when I began my low-residency Master’s in Fine Arts in Creative Writing at Antioch University in Los Angeles.

Two weeks ago, I headed back to LA one last time, loaded down with thank-you cookies:

NYT’s Technicolor orange-spice shortbread, anyone?

Back in 2022, in what became the last post for quite a while, I described the program as a switch from hiking to rock climbing. Now, having reached a comfortable ledge called “graduation,” I’d love to linger for a minute and talk about it before climbing on.

…So?

These past two weeks, I’ve been noticing the balance of my upward climb. Finding a rhythm between “But I’m not DONE yet–my book is only about 2/3 finished!” and “Look at all I’ve accomplished!” Real rock climbers could probably help me refine that metaphor, something about tension vs. slackness of belay ropes perhaps?

But that’s between me and me. What I’d really like to do here is celebrate LA a little–more accurately, Culver City–and the urban experience I benefitted from, which was 100% more lovely and positive than what I’d feared coming in (country girl and small-island woman that I am).

Example #1: this car.

Zoom in on that window decal to see why this was my LA poster vehicle

Two years ago I took its picture–“LA as car!” But this summer, I realized two things: A, I walked past this zippy jalopy every single day for all five residencies. Clearly it lived on that street, so it became a friendly neighbor rather than a symbol of glitz.

And B, this particular car wasn’t the silver of the one I’d photographed in ’22. This one now matched the beautiful jacaranda blossoms of its street.

Speaking of matching trees: how about one more shout-out to Culver City’s amazing tree-themed streets?

Culver’s a lot closer to nature than you might guess from its situation at the edge of a megalopolis.

And the vehicle Mama Duck is leading her brood past also surprised me. “Ugh, it’s one of those lawn-spraying trucks,” I thought, but then:

Organic fertilizer!! Good job, Angelenos.

Then there were the Little Free Libraries. Often those are stocked with throwaway books, but I was so impressed with the quality in this one:

Finally, the Antioch LA campus itself: two years ago, I noted its corporate ugliness (housed near such artistic fellows as Norton Security and TikTok).

I even took a photo of a madrona tree chained to its concrete planter:

But this time around, feeling mellow and grateful, I focused on the beautiful touches added to that soulless architecture, giving it…

Because it was my final “Rez,” I took advantage to visit my writing mentor in Pasadena for a hike. Finding a writing mentor was probably my #2 goal in my program, and…

Goal #1 = finding a more diverse critique group: check! I’m not going to violate their privacy by picturing them here, but this photo captures how I feel about them:

But maybe you’re still wondering about those cookies?

and these: chocolate-chunk spice w/ cranberries (not pictured: lemon-rosemary-corn cookies)

I hauled three containers in my carry-on: for my mentor; for an incredibly helpful Writing Center tutor who walked me through all the ghastly formatting issues of final requirements, plus an entire PowerPoint presentation; and for our WONDERFUL FRIENDS who shared their home with me, FIVE TIMES over the course of two years. And their car, their bike, and their cats.

Love you too, Joey. Now get off me, I have to finish this edit!

THANKS, Y’ALL.

And while I’m saying my gratitudes: BIGGEST thanks to my Lopez Island writing group, which got me to this point, especially Iris Graville, whose own MFA foray lit the spark for mine.

Lopez Island: home of the Women Writers of the Salish Sea

And to my wonderful Mate and Son Two, who had this waiting for me when I got home:

The mug depicts my AULA graduating cohort–we’re the Goldenrods!

Gratitude for this wacky beautiful community I get to call home:

And biggest gratitude of all for the inspiration and guidance AULA will provide me as I take a deep breath, look up that literary cliff, and continue the climb.

Dipping My Toes Back In…To an Old Habit

Posted on May 26, 2024 by gretchenwing

The creeks in the Hoh rainforest, on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, are so clear you can barely see them.

Looks like you could stroll right across it, right?

On a recent, brief “campering” trip–getting Vanna Grey used to the idea of short, regional outings instead of 8,000-mile, cross-country odysses–this thought occurred to me: I miss sharing the images of travel, and the thoughts they inspire. I miss the similes, I miss saying “those rainforest creeks are as invisible but as profound as my love of sharing.” I miss blogging!

“It misses you too,” I imagine the Hoh River murmuring.

Two years ago, I embarked on a Master’s program in LA, earning a degree in Creative Writing. As I wrote then, the degree itself wasn’t important; the WORK was. And in order to give myself time and space for that work, I backed off blogging. Backed WAY off. I haven’t counted, but I think I’ve only posted a handful of times in the past two years, mostly just when traveling.

Humptulips River says, “Yep, that seems accurate. Low flow.”

But I’m almost done. Not with my novel; that’ll be easily another year. But done with the program, the requirements, the deadlines. The work is all self-paced now (and a lot cheaper.)

Yep, those requirements are going to disappear…like this magical beach creek!

Which means I’m back, as a blogger. And I’m psyched about that. I get to share all the brilliant diversity of the Pacific Northwest, from tidepools…

to more tidepools:

From the smaller forest inhabitants…

Like these trillium, which start out white but turn purple as they age. Who doesn’t want to do that?!

…to its bigger ones…

Like this guy, who confirmed my family’s unofficial motto, “If you get up early, you might see a moose!” (Or elk, in this case. No one but him & us on the trail that morning.)

…to the biggest of all:

I can’t wait–though, actually, I WILL wait, because our next trip is coming up soon. And then my graduation, which–yes, I will write about.

And then, you know what else I might share? Good old home life, which recently issued a giant “Ahem!” That same weekend we were campering, deep in the sky-obscuring forest? The skies of Lopez were doing THIS:

Lopez Island aurora borealis. Image courtesy of Shari Lane

Sometimes, there really is no place like home. But here, there, or anywhere, I’m looking forward to sharing it with y’all again. See you soon.

Accentuate the Positive: COVID, Silver Lining Edition

Posted on July 22, 2022 by gretchenwing

It’s official: COVID-19 is no longer cool. It’s hanging out with me and the Mate.

Understand, we’re the kind of folks who started watching “The Office” in its fourth season. Who are only now talking about maybe watching “The Mandalorian.” Want to know why Facebook’s been on a slow downward slide among young people since 2010? That’s when I joined. (The Mate is actually cooler than I am; he’ll never join.)

Luckily, we have a whole bunch of “luckilies”: We were in good health. We both got only mild symptoms (the Mate, mostly fatigue; me, a juicy head cold with a lingering cough). While we did have to cancel some parts of our lives that affected other people (sorry, my fellow bakers & musicians!), we didn’t have to miss anything huge like a family gathering (or, I don’t know, an MFA residency). Most importantly, we have not, to our knowledge, spread the virus to anyone else.

Also luckily for me, thanks to my MFA homework, I have a voracious appetite for all the extra time COVID has gifted me. For example, here’s what I’ve read since I came home from LA just under a month ago:

I especially recommend Euphoria & the nonfiction Strangers in Their Own Land

I’m also super grateful for having to isolate myself during such stellar weather, as Lopez Island is (so far) not suffering from the heat wave overtaking most of the rest of the globe.

…because it takes extra time and attention to spot the small, subtle Elegant Reign Orchid

I do confess to being VERY tired of the gunk in my lungs. But it also reminds me of my English teaching days, when I’d introduce a Shakespeare unit by teaching the kids about the “Four Humors” of medieval “medicine.” Depending on which planet you were born under, one of the liquids running through your body would dominate the others, thereby determining your personality.

Those four humors? Blood, yellow bile, black bile, and…wait for it…phlegm.

We still carry the vestiges of the Four Humors in our personality adjectives today. You can be sanguine (cheerful), bilious or choleric (angry), or, my own humor–phlegmatic! (Students were much less grossed out once they learned this meant “deep” or “hard to read”.)

As an on-the-cusp Scorpio, I’ve never felt very in tune with my sign. But right now, thanks to COVID, I’ve never felt more phlegmy–I mean phlegmatic. And I’ll take that Humor right now, thank you very much. Gotta accentuate the positive till it finally turns negative.

MFA in LA, Part II: Climbing

Posted on June 30, 2022 by gretchenwing

My first day back in the Evergreen State after returning from the first residency for my MFA in Creative Writing, I went for a short hike in the Cascade foothills.

Southern California’s beautiful…but man, I missed THIS.

As I headed up the trail, I glimpsed a cliff through the woods, and hearing voices, stopped to look. Of course: a climbing group was gathering at the base. I couldn’t make out their words, but I assumed they were talking about routes, or gear, or who was going to try what. Since I’m a hiker, not a climber, I headed on up the trail, silently wishing them safe fun.

Then it hit me: that giddiness from the steep learning curve of my first residency? That wasn’t just fear of inadequacy or excitement over reaching new levels in my art–though yes, it was also both. That curve is even steeper than I’d thought. And what’s really happening is, as a writer, I’m trading hiking for cliff-scaling.

For the past 25 years, I’ve been step-by-cautious step, trudging up a marked path…

Granted, that trail can get plenty gnarly, and it has!

…but now, I’m going vertical. Straight up. I’m trying things I’ve never tried as a writer, and I’m all in. No more dabbling, fitting writing in where I can, taking whole seasons off. No more excuses. I’m learning craft, and my teachers are going to expect craft back.

If you’ve spent any time in Wing’s World, you’ll know I love to be on TOP of cliffs, but the idea of climbing them makes me nauseous. True to form, once I’d reached the top of the little mountain I was hiking up, I got as close to the edge of the cliff-top as I could…

…that same cliff those climbers were preparing to scale. And I gave myself this little pep-talk:

“Yes, you’re spending a huge amount of money and time to learn to write the kind of book you most want to read. But you have new tools and a crew now, you’re all roped up, and you get to spend the next 2 years discussing routes and gear and who’s going to try what. Yes, you might fall, but you won’t die, and your crew will help you find your way back up.”