Whatever We’re Making, We’re All Sailing in the Same Boat

By Suzanne Strempek Shea

Suzanne Stempek Shea with readers at a recent event.

Suzanne Stempek Shea with readers at a recent event.

My home in the Western Massachusetts valley is rich with writers living and dead. I regularly park my car at the meter below Emily Dickinson’s bedroom window. Errands and events take me past the Eric Carle museum, and also the house that belonged to one of the creators of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The only positive aspect of going to an oral surgeon during childhood was that his office was on the same street where Dr. Seuss grew up. Opening the door to a local bookstore, I once nearly smashed into the poet James Tate and a group of his students. Recently waiting to pay for a futon cover at a furniture store, I found Jonathan Harr in line front of me in line.

Around here it’s hard to swing a laptop without whacking into any local ink-stained wretches – or successes including enough whose mantels heft Pulitzers or Caldecotts or National Book Awards. So it would be natural to think we scribes of all sorts socialize, that we attend a writers’ club much like the Elks or the Moose or the AMVETS clubs that dot the landscape. But there isn’t one. Or maybe they’re just not telling me about it.

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You’ve Just Gotten Your MFA! So Now What?

Stonecoast MFA graduates, Summer '13. Photo by Helen Peppe (www.helenpeppephotography.com)

Stonecoast MFA graduates, Summer ’13. Photo by Helen Peppe (www.helenpeppephotography.com)

By Aaron Hamburger

Graduating with any degree can be a time of nervousness as well as excitement, but when your degree is in fine art, particularly the fine art of writing, sometimes nerves can outweigh the joy of accomplishment.

The summer after I finished graduate school, I sank into a deep self-questioning funk.  What did I do now?  Where could I turn for advice?  Who was going to hold me responsible for meeting my workshop/packet deadlines?

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