The Camperdown Writers’ Kiln
My masters program was great. Undergraduate… not so much.
I have completed an MFA from New Saint Andrews College. This is my written apology for the program.
In the winter of 2023 I was yearning to leave my teaching job, a one-year stint at a local Christian school. At the time, I was considering academia. The University of Toledo has an MA in English Literature, and I was eager to get in. I spent hours on my writing sample for the application, and in April of that year I received a response from the head of the graduate school.
The professor who sent that email was a single, Indian woman. A rabid feminist. She loved academia, but disliked literature, caring more for the agenda behind the fiction she assigned. I knew she wouldn’t want me, so I prayed hard that somehow it would work out anyway.
I was in her classes for undergrad. We did not get along. Of course, as I had feared, she denied my application.
One of my mentors had gone through the MA program a decade earlier and sang its praises. Nevertheless, every course on the college website’s class listing was postcolonial theory, just like it had been for my bachelors. For some reason I was lying to myself. Looking back, I wonder if I was a masochist.
In her email, the head of the MA said my essay was problematic. I responded, asking if there was anything I could do to improve my chances if I applied again. She said, “…the graduate committee had some issues with your overall application, especially your writing sample.” She said I should consider another program because I wasn’t a good fit. So I shook the dust off my feet and did just that.
All of us have bucket lists. We want to go to Alaska and see what a three hour day looks like. We want to go to Hawaii, go skydiving, or ski in the Alps. Getting into the MA program at UT, although a strong desire, was not on my list.
But the Camperdown Writer’s Kiln was. After my disappointment in April of 2023, I received news that I was enrolled in the Camperdown MFA that June.
Before I received word back from UT, I remember telling my wife I would apply to the MFA sometime later when our boys were older, just for fun. She fought me, and pointed out that the rejection letter seemed to be a clear call to action.
And now, I’m on the other side. The graduation ceremony is in May. I can officially be called “Master Wing.” There is already a Dr. Wing.
So, where to begin? The providence of the Lord flowed down like water bursting from a gutter that I’d just unclogged after a summer’s worth of rain. All seemed to line up at once. The Reagan family kindly opened their home on my trips to Idaho, I found a job that gave me ample time off to travel, and the school work was actually fun. On my first trip to NSA, I was surprised—I don’t know why—that people could get together and talk about literature, books, and writing without being considered gay. My professors enjoyed words and what they could do. And everyone was opposed to feminism, which is saying something even for an evangelical college.
During the two years, Professor Kohl taught a delightful class on literary criticism, Professor Cohen led our cohort through novel and short story writing, Pastor Wilson lead us through Lewis readings and Biblical Theology (typology), Professor Schwager ran the poetry workshop and poetry readings, and my favorite class of all was Professor McAtee’s class on marketing. We did more than that, but those were my favorites. It’s the marketing class that I think of more than the others, since it was really a class on copywriting, a class on how to grab people’s attention with words.
But the best thing about the program was meeting people. I’m grateful to find other wordsmiths from across the country who have a relatively similar outlook on life. There aren’t many of those where I live. The MFA was respite from my grueling time at the University of Toledo. The people at NSA were hospitable, loved to sing, allowed conversation to wander through every rabbit trail, looked into people’s eyes, asked questions, and best of all, they loved books. I’ve never come across a more bookish bunch.
My time at NSA taught me I don’t want to do academia. I don’t want to pick the safe vocation. I want to act in faith. For, God has made this world so that a man is blessed when he does so. Finding a community where others are doing the same was the Lord’s kindness to me.
Christine Cohen, Marcus Schwager, Jake McAtee, Pastor Wilson, N. D. Wilson, Brian Kohl, Forrest Dickison, Walter & Amanda Kirn, Ande Pliego, Pastor Wiley, Ben Palpant, and others I’m forgetting, were wonderful. I’m grateful for their lectures, criticisms, and overall advice. I’m thankful for the Cohens opening their home for Sunday Evening welcome dinners. I’m especially thankful for the Reagans. They were the best hosts I’ve ever had.
If you want to apply to the program you can find the website here. But I would do so now. The price doesn’t stop climbing.
This month’s reading recommendations are from the program.
Novel
Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett
Nonfiction
Wordsmithy by Douglas Wilson
Poem
“Introduction to Poetry” by Billy Collins
Short Story
“Sticks” by George Saunders
Essay/Lecture
“An Inescapable Burden of Glory” by Douglas Wilson
Audiobook
Andrew and the Firedrake by Douglas Wilson
From the Pipeline
My recent pieces of the month.
Michigan Enjoyer