I wrote a persuasive proposal for a MFA and now I have to do it

In June of this year I started a new project, a project I cannot help but describe as audacious every time I consider it. I am old, tired and broke but I have committed to write a book about my life. Madness!

When I entered the campus this June for the introductory nine day intensive of readings, workshops and classes, I was stunned by what I had put in action. What part of my personality, what demanding, extraverted and ambitious persona had suddenly come to life and signed me up?

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But I was not alone! I was not even the oldest person there, not by a long shot. There were also plenty of young people, and we all had a story to tell.

Between the classes, readings and workshops the main topic between new friends during that first week was, what is your book about? By the fifth day, going on fumes, I would say, ‘Oh, I don’t know anymore’ and encourage the other writer to talk about their book.

By the seventh day I replied to a second year student, ‘Apparently I’m writing a memoir’, getting a good laugh. In every class and with every reading the students had been learning that a good story demands the strong presence of a narrator. So, even if you are writing a nonfiction book about bees, the readers will want to know who you are and what bees mean to you!

By the end of the first week I was expected to present a pitch to one of the college directors. I needed to sound sure of my story, the narrative path, the themes, and even the conclusion. And I was in no way certain of any of that.

The night before I was up much of the night, tapping out various versions of an introduction to a book I had not yet written. Then, by the grace of a goddess that my mom called The Bitch Above, my laptop died and I was left to scribble illegibly. This turned out to be a gift.

I ended up writing down my ideas in point form and giving the pitch as if I was meeting director Kim Pittaway at a party. Her ready smile, analytical eyes and competent air made me feel comfortable so I spoke from my heart. I told her about finding out about my grandmother’s respected career at a time when my empty nest and lack of a career were hitting me hard.

I told her about my ruminations on what makes women choose different paths. I told her how I wondered how the feminist movement had affected my grandmother’s life, and my mother’s and myself? What obstacles did each woman face, and what new opportunities opened up with each new wave of women’s’ rights advocacy? What compromises did the three women, living through three different waves of feminism, make to achieve their ideal lives?

In preparation for the program (the MFA program in Creative Nonfiction or Fiction at King’s College in Halifax is a two year non residential program with in-person classes in June of each year, as well as a winter gathering on Zoom), I had spent the winter reading through Kim Pittaway’s articles about writing on her Substack, I Have Thoughts. With good referrals from her Substack I read six excellent memoirs with different styles, tones and content. And as the snow drifted down, I mused and imagined.

But those easy, sleepy days of last winter are long behind me now. I have so much to do now that I am occasionally paralyzed by indecision: should I edit the 5000 words that are due on September 7th, or put my thoughts together for the research paper due in October? Should I contact McGill University about their archives, contact that minister in Bridgewater NS, or write some query research emails to the United Nations in Italy or the YWCA in Japan? Where is that trunk full of my mother’s journals written during her wild fifties when she flew free of her marriage and wifedom?

However, even when I have moments of stress trying to figure out how I will do it all, I am happy about my decision to embark on this adventure. I feel like I am in good hands; the school administration, the teachers and the mentors are all giving serious attention to the program and the students.

When I left the nine day intensive program I felt more confident about my abilities and the book that I was going to write, and that was by no means guaranteed. I am coming from a freelance writer background so I know how to write to deadlines, but the breadth of the project can feel unwieldy at times.

But then I tell myself, I have the time and I have the support, I can do it. I can write a book. Write a book? It is still hard to say those words.

Am I writing a book? It seems so. I’ll keep you posted.