I’m a writer. And a pretty good one, I think. I’ve been told I do alright anyway. Yet here I am, another morning, feeling like a fraud.
I’m enrolled in an MFA program.
Does that explain my feeling of displacement? If not, let me expand on the idea with ten reasons why the deception of my role in this program feels so real.
There you have it. My truth about being an MFA student. I’d say more, but there isn’t much to add here -except that I've always wanted to get an MFA. I cried when I found out I was accepted. I stand in awe of the professors when I am around them or get feedback from them. I truly feel blessed to be part of such a unique experience. Besides, I have a short story to read and decipher as well as a critique to revise.
Do you have an MFA? Are you pursuing one? If not, I have to say it’s an excellent way to challenge yourself and discover who you really are, especially if you’re a reader and a writer.
If you’re not working toward an MFA, are you (or have you ever) pursued something where you felt like a fake? What about that undertaking made you feel like you didn’t belong?