I'm a writer because I have stage fright.
One of my favorite writers is honest about the MFA experience.
No, MFA does not, in this instance, stand for “Motherf***ing Awesome”, though, it must be said, that acronym does occasionally apply to certain aspects of my life. And me.
Only occasionally, though.
In this case, I’m talking about Master of Fine Arts. As in the graduate degree. As in the thing I’ve agreed to devote two years of my life to pursuing and, hopefully, obtaining come May 2017.
I remember it clearly: last April, my best friend and I (really, this is all her fault) were hanging out. She’d driven an hour to come stay with me overnight while Hubby attended a month-long course at Fort Lee, VA. We’d run a 5K race at one of my favorite wineries, we’d done some shopping, and we’d done a lot of pigging out. The next day, as we lazed about before she went home, we were chatting about life and things. You…
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