The first time I encountered the terms “PhD” and “creative writing” together, I was already weighing my options about what to do after my MFA. Many people in my program were considering a PhD in Composition and Rhetoric or taking a much-needed break from school. I knew I personally thrived in academia and loved teaching at the college level. I understood I wasn’t finished learning all that the field of creative writing had to offer. I had more to contribute and learn but didn’t know how to proceed. After talking it over with my fiction professor, he suggested I look into the PhD in Creative Writing. I was indeed intrigued, asking the burning question:

“I thought the MFA was a terminal degree… what exactly is a PhD in Creative Writing?”

I found out it was a relatively new degree, only taking root in the last 10 years or so in the wake of a major influx of people graduating with their MFA’s. Seth Abramson in his book: The Insider’s Guide to Graduate Degrees in Creative Writing describes the change as: “…MFA programs have become so numerous and so popular that it’s become harder for creative writers to distinguish themselves” (17). Ten years ago, you could attain an academic job with an MFA and without a book, now the next level is required if one wishes to teach in higher education. “Having a creative writing PhD is quickly becoming a necessary rather than merely optional credential…It gives them more time to publish and more teaching experience, and therefore strengthens their hand if they want to go on the academic job market down the line” (154, 223).

The MFA is not so terminal anymore.

My professor explained it as a “bizarre hybrid,” of combining the creative with the critical. For most programs, you take literature and composition classes in addition to creative writing workshops and teaching. You have comprehensive exams and a dissertation just like any other PhD, but it is a creative dissertation with a critical research/writing component. It seemed like a very good fit for me, especially because I considered myself to be a “creative and academic hybrid,” so I decided to apply.

Two years later with a PhD acceptance in hand, I was sitting in a room at AWP settling in for the PhD in Creative Writing panel. I glanced around, observing who was crazy enough to want a PhD like me? As it turned out, everyone under the sun. Young twenty-something students early on in their MFA careers huddled together behind me in packs whispering to one another, older people in their mid-thirties to late fifties gathered in the aisle over wondering what they were getting into. Tensions and desperation was heavy in the air, as everyone seemed to want the magic answers.

In front of us observing the crowd were panelists made up of current students and faculty who were part of the top-10 Creative Writing PhD programs in the country, (ranking seriously does matter.) They made it very clear that the PhD in Creative Writing was neither a creative, nor a scholarly degree. In a nutshell, you walk into this part of your career with precision, having a sound idea of what you are going to be specializing in and most importantly, you already understand what type of writer you want to be. The job market was dismal, but having this type of degree made you much more versatile and valuable when applying for jobs.

Going into a PhD was a life-changing commitment they said, will the degree get you to where you wanted to go? Debt was a major consideration as well, as they very much discouraged the act of loan borrowing. Moreover, they (and Seth Abramson) agree that if you never intend to teach at the college level, going for a PhD is a rather fruitless endeavor, and you should put your efforts elsewhere.  

Furthermore, acceptances for these high-caliber crème de la crème programs are also ultra competitive. Most students who are accepted into PhD programs are “from among the most talented MFA graduates in America” (224). Usually, (from what I inferred from the panel,) accepted applicants do not come straight out of their MFA’s. Applicants at this stage have made advances in their careers. This looks like (from my perception mind you,) being involved in the writing community, becoming a section editor or founder of a literary journal, or having numerous publications under their belt if not a book. Of course, none of this was directly or explicitly stated, but inferred elusively. Experience, publications, writing samples, letters of recommendation, all of it seemed to have some weight on if they considered you. In fact, some of these people were from the schools I had applied to and got rejected from. Honestly, looking at the current students, I was probably 5-10 years younger than the average aged applicant and I grant you, I probably wasn’t one of the strongest prospects. They advised applicants thus, to keep their options open, as there is no guarantee of a tenure track job afterwards. (In my opinion, there are no guarantees anyway in life, so you might as well go for it.)

Overall, the panel solidified my confidence that the PhD was what I wanted to pursue and had no doubts about what path I was on. If anyone is interested in the PhD in Creative Writing application process, I will be writing about that in my next post.

Until next time,

Lena N. Gemmer