Graduation

Well, I did it: I graduated. After two and a half years, I received my MFA in fiction from the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College. Graduating felt good, but weird, and kind of sad? It was strange and wonderful having Al and the kids and my parents in Western North Carolina, where I’ve spent so much time over the last 2.5 years attending lectures on craft, workshopping my fiction, hanging out with friends, listening to birds, admiring the mountains, bear-spotting, and occasionally crying from overwhelm (I like to say that no Warren Wilson residency is complete without at least one unhinged cry). Seeing my family’s appreciation for this beautiful part of the world, and having them watch me give a reading and then graduate was gratifying and heart-warming. But finishing this program, which demanded so much of my emotional and mental energy and which, ultimately, changed me as a writer and a person, was hard. The whole graduation weekend, I kept looking at my friends who were also graduating and asking, “do you feel weird right now? I feel weird right now.” (Everyone else felt weird right then, too, turns out).

Graduations are always weird and hard, I think. At least, they are for me. During my Stanford graduation, the one where Steve Jobs gave that legendary speech that is now widely considered one of the best commencement speeches of all time, I was hungover and miserable and only half-listening. I was too hot (it was approximately 1002 degrees Fahrenheit in the stands) and sad about leaving Stanford, my friends, the palm trees, my life of last-trimester ease in which I rented all the DVDs of Felicity from the Stanford library and watched them in my dorm room while eating bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with my hands, and, yes, I was, it must be admitted, brutally hungover from too many Bacardi 151/diet cokes, my twenty-two year old self’s drink of choice (barf emoji). Then, during my smaller graduation ceremony for International Relations majors, the professor handing out the diplomas butchered my (very common and easy to pronounce) name, and it all felt bad, and annoying, and abrupt. Like, wait, this is over? Already?? It’s only been four years!

My law school graduation was similarly weird-feeling, and I had the prospect of taking the California bar exam in just a few months looming over me. It didn’t help that Al was abroad and couldn’t attend my graduation ceremony. I was happy to be done with law school, but also, again, pretty bummed about giving up my cushy law school student lifestyle, in which I went out a lot, took salsa lessons, and watched a ton of reality TV. (It should be noted that TV has been a great comfort and joy to me at all stages of my academic career).

And now, MFA graduation, which I think will be my last graduation (although never say never, I guess). I am excited for what comes next — hopefully getting my novel out into the world — but also sad about leaving Warren Wilson behind. Luckily, I am coming out of the program with a much better understanding of my own strengths and weaknesses as a writer and, more importantly, people who I know will be lifelong friends. All of that feels extremely precious.

I will leave you with a video of my grad reading, which is from one of the opening chapters of my novel. Agents, call me! 😉