At sixty I decided to enter an MFA Creative Writing program. My decision inadvertently solicited a myriad of responses. "Are you crazy?" "I could never do that!" "Haven't you had enough of school?" "You are brave to do that." "I'm so proud of you." Honestly, I was not really moved by any of these responses. I had set my mind to do what I thought was best for my passion-writing. It also helps that I have always been of the belief that other people's opinions should never be a defining factor in one's life decisions.
Six weeks into a nonfiction workshop and a creativity workshop, and I could not be happier with my decision to hone my craft. This is where I am supposed to be. I have longed to be in the company of writers on a regular basis.
I'm sure it helps immensely that I was never one to be bothered by age. However, I would be bothered by a stagnant life. I would regret not doing all that I could, to become an accomplished writer.
My undergraduate degree is not in the arts. Therefore, I have kicked studying my craft into high gear.
Katherine Mansfield's' The Daughters of the Colonel is a treasure trove for studying word usage. Francine Prose's Reading Like A Writer is proving to be a Godsend. A close read of both is just the jumpstart I needed to learning to read with more sensitivity and depth (according to Marion Winik's comments on a blog I wrote on the incredible essay The Subjunctive Mood by Michele Morano, I'm on my way).
"It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end."