On Losing a Piece of My Writing Self
Back in January 2010, my life as a writer took a step in a much more serious direction when I started my first day of graduate school. I had applied and been accepted into the Master of Arts in English program at Mount Mary University (known as Mount Mary College then) and was ready to get my then-current WIP into better shape. By the end of that first semester, I had grown by leaps and bounds and I knew I was where I needed to be. Beyond that semester, I only continued to grow as a writer and as a person. In December 2011, I graduated with one completed novel manuscript and half of a second, multiple short stories, and had been persuaded to apply to one of the top low-residency MFA programs in the country for creative writing (to which I would later be accepted).
I could write volumes about how this specific program changed my life as a writer, how it influenced my writing, and how it helped me develop into the writer I am. My professors, advisors, and peers at MMU have meant so much to me in the years since I left the program and I’m so thankful for the time I spent with all of them. I wouldn’t be where I am or who I am without their friendship and guidance.
