As college graduation neared and I started applying to jobs, I prayed that God would close every door He didn't want me to walk through. I applied to at least thirty different jobs, and I heard back from exactly one: the job I worked at for the past year. When I picked out the four graduate programs I wanted to apply to, I prayed that prayer again.
Oxford University, Brunel University London, University of Brighton, and Edinburgh Napier University (ENU). I sent my applications in to each of their MA Creative Writing Programs, and the only one I heard back from in any capacity was ENU.
It turns out they didn't want the writing sample I had prepared ahead of time; instead, they wanted me to complete a different task. On a Wednesday in January, I received an email containing a handful of sentences and instructions to choose one and use it as the first sentence in a 500-word story.
As any student could tell you, five hundred words is practically nothing - especially to develop a story with.
I chose this sentence: "I always had a love for other people's possessions." It turned into a little anecdote about a kleptomaniac and a dragon who team up to pull a jewelry store heist. The following Wednesday, I sent it in.
Less than a week later, they contacted me to set up an interview over Skype. I talked with two of the professors in the MA Creative Writing Program, who explained that the exercise they gave me was similar to how classes and homework are structured. Students complete short writing assignments, critique their own work, and then receive feedback from the professor. This is where ENU differs from most other creative writing programs; a typical element of writing is peer reviewing. When I was researching ENU's program, and I first read that they don't do any peer reviewing, I was scandalized. "No peer reviewing!?" I thought to myself. "How do they know if their data is reliable?" It was then I realized I was thinking as a Psychology major, where peer reviewing is essential.
In place of peer reviewing, ENU focuses on one-on-one editorial mentoring. It's not that there's anything wrong with having your classmates and friends read your work; however, if that's what I wanted, I could post my work online. What I'm paying for is professional feedback. And, as the professors in my interview explained, cohorts who don't review each other's work tend to have a greater sense of camaraderie.
They sent me a form with questions about my five hundred word story, and then disconnected the Skype call so I'd have a chance to look it over. Five minutes later, they called me back. I explained my answers: what the purpose of the story was (to entertain the reader, to explore displacement and solidarity), how I went about writing it (I wrote a longer story and then deleted the parts I could live without, which ended up leaving some holes in the finished story), and what I thought I could have done better (spending more time on the jewelry store heist itself and less time setting the scene). After I finished, they gave me their answers to each question as well.
As the interview drew to a close, and I asked them questions about their experiences at ENU, the two professors shared a secret look. "The one thing you haven't asked us is when you're going to hear back about your application status."
I could only awkwardly chuckle.
They laughed. "In my ten years of conducting interviews, only one person has been bold enough to ask that," one of the professors said. "Here's the answer - we're going to tell you right now."
He explained their method: when one of them decided whether they wanted to accept the student or not, they wrote a codeword on the other person's notepad. The other person would then put a check mark or an x next to it, depending on whether or not they agreed.
He held up the top of the notepad so I could see it. "Codeword: Swordfish. That means we want to offer you a spot in the program!"
As soon as the call ended, all the tension and anxiety left my body at once and I flopped out of my desk chair and onto the floor, where I laid facedown for a moment. Chasing what you want - even acknowledging what you want - can be nerve-wracking. It's one thing to try and fail in private; trying and failing in public is a whole different beast. Becoming a published author is going to be a long process, and I have been so nervous about failing at my dream that I almost didn't take this first step.
Here's the oddly comforting part: I already know I'm going to fail. There will be setbacks, rejection letters, criticism, and insecurity, and there will be moments when those things get the better of me. In the Netflix original movie "Unicorn Store", the main character's mom tells her this: "The most grown-up thing you can do is fail at things you really care about." In the end, we're all just out here doing our best. That's all we can do.
Obviously I accepted their offer, otherwise you wouldn't be reading about this. It was clear from the two professors' easy-going air and love of puns that these are my kind of people - and I'm so excited to join them!
Book recommendation: Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. This is the story of a woman who lost her way after a setback in her career. It's funny and heart-wrenching all at once, and unfolds the way all good mysteries do.