Tomorrow I begin my MFA at Columbia College so I've been spending the day dry heaving, throwing up, having diarrhea, and unexpectedly sobbing. I realize I already lost half of you with that last sentence, but for those of you still willing to go along with me, good for you! I'm hoping by writing about this potentially successful and possibly embarrassing situation I can get some of the nervousness out of my system.
For those of you who don't know, I've decided to earn a degree in Creative Writing-Nonfiction and try to make a go of being a professional writer. I chose nonfiction because although I do enjoy making up stories, I always run into a dead end I can't get myself out of in fiction writing. There are about six novels saved on my computer that are all about three pages long, but nonfiction always comes easily.
I applied to Columbia because although I didn't think I would get in, I wanted to at least say, "I tried." Columbia (bless their little hearts) actually saw some potential in me, and I've spent this past week puttering around the house, clutching my head, and thinking, "How did I get myself into this?"
Every time the negative thoughts come into my head I just remind myself of all the writers out there who doubt themselves. Even the best wonder if their next endeavor will be a success or failure. I've been reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott and she focuses a lot on the self doubt of writers which turns down my inner terror a few notches.
Columbia does have a great program though. The current students have been so welcoming, and the faculty have been equally gracious. There are ten new students which seems like the perfect setup for an Agatha Christie novel. I'm only taking three courses this semester, which will mean a mere 90 hours of homework every week. I think that with the right amout of confidence and Xanax I might just be able to pull the whole thing off, and even if I don't, at least I can say, "I tried."
Thanks, I feel better now.