By Shea Faulkner
In one of the final seminars at my graduating residency from
the Converse
College Low-Residency MFA program, my former mentor, Marlin “Bart”
Barton, told all of the graduates to take a few weeks after completing the
program as a break and then get back at it, warning us not to take a hiatus for
too long. I remember listening to him say this as the thought arrogantly
flitted through my mind, “Break? Whatever.”
My hubris was quickly tamed by my living situation. My
husband and I had made the decision to move from the Upstate of South Carolina
to Orlando, Florida during the final few weeks of my last semester in school.
We’d sold our house, told our families, and signed a lease on our new home just
before I headed off to my final residency. During all of this, I had managed to
keep writing. Sure, I was primarily tweaking stories I had written for my
creative thesis, but the fact remains I had been productive.
What I, naïvely, failed to anticipate was the reality of the
move. As residency drew to a close, I packed the last of my belongings and
drove the 546-mile drive to the place where I now live. Over the course of a
few days, I had said goodbye to my friends, to my family, and to my MFA
program. A move that had originally seemed exciting suddenly seemed scary and
depressing—I was now in a place with only my husband and our children with no
friends, no job, no familarity.
For days after that drive, I cried, worrying my husband and
friends, as I am not the emotional type. Once the crying subsided, legitimate
depression set in. I spent weeks without leaving the house, showering, or
staying awake long enough to help my husband with our children, but eventually
things got better. First, my husband received a job offer at an awesome
company. Not long after, I received a job offer to teach high school English at
a private school. Our families came to visit, and we even made the trek back
home at the end of the summer to visit with loved ones. Yet through all of
this, I wrote nothing, Bart’s warning ever playing through my head to not wait
too long to start writing again.
Soon, I was launched into a new job and gifted the luxury of
two hours and thirty minutes worth of commute each day. I enjoyed the job, but
I was exhausted. Time barreled by, and still I hadn’t started writing. Often, I
doubted I’d ever write again. I was, simply, destined to be one of those people
who get an MFA then stop writing. I had waited too long. As October came—the
leaves not changing, the heat not waning in my new locale—I had more or less
given up any concern for writing, convinced I had waited too long. My creative
energy was non-existent and my time to write was even less detectable.
Back at residency in the summer, I’d made plans with a
friend to attend the South Carolina Writer’s Conference in Myrtle Beach at the
end of October. While I was excited to see my friend, I dreaded being surrounded
by people all doing what I couldn’t seem to force myself to do, but the weekend
was just what I needed. After a much-needed break from my normal life and a
re-emergence into the world I love, I came home with tons of ideas and
ambition.
It took a couple of weeks, but by early November, I’d set a
writing schedule, vowed to participate in NaNoWriMo and started plotting a
novel. It seemed I hadn’t taken too long to get at it after all. While I didn’t
get anywhere near the 50,000 word goal, I had managed to reawaken my passion. So,
I write this as a once-arrogant graduate of an amazing MFA program—even if it’s
been years, get back at it.
*****
BIO:
Shea Faulkner is
a graduate of the Converse College Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing
program. She works as a high school
English teacher and moonlights as a fiction editor for South85 Literary Journal. She currently lives Orlando, Florida with
her husband and two children.
More information about the Converse Low-Res MFA Program: http://www.converse.edu/academics/school-education-and-graduate-studies/graduate-programs/graduate-programs-other-fields/m-6
