On Twitter someone said, “Don’t tell your readers you’re uneducated.” Well, why not? I guess it would depend on what you want your readers to believe. I mean, how successful can a writer expect to be without a college education?
I don’t have an MFA. Heck, I don’t have any credits to my name, but, eh. I wrestle my own ghosts. Truth is, I love school. I went back late, spent a year at a tech school obsessing over paint samples and fabric swatches and modern building vs. historic preservation and took the required English Composition class.
English Comp. broke me.
I knew it would.
The first paper I wrote left my crazy, old teacher-man flummoxed. He took a shine to me, kept telling me I wasn’t a program student and won. Most of the kids talked crap behind his back. I sent him a thank you card.
That fall, I transferred out of my program and into liberal studies. The next year, I transferred to university part-time where I studied Creative Nonfiction under a wonderful woman. She too was very supportive of my work suggesting I consider an MFA program after completing my BA. I scoffed. I talked about Ray Bradbury. She wasn’t convinced.
I haven’t been back to school since that semester. Instead, I started planning a wedding, then a house, then a family. These things can happen if you wait too long for one thing and move on to something else.
For years I had it in my head I would start writing in earnest when my kids were small and I could be home with them. I lucked-out and here I am. I’ll call myself quasi-educated. There. Now you know.