I Still Can't Believe What Happened This Weekend

How a five-day portfolio and one terrifying "View Decision" button got me into grad school.

Since the beginning of the year, nothing has gone my way. I’m not usually pessimistic, but this has been a tough start. My business is slow, I’ve gained weight, and I watched my dog die in front of me.

I know I have nothing to truly complain about. I’m alive, I’m healthy, I’m not homeless. The fact that I have a keyboard to write this on and a website to post it to is a blessing. But this weekend was one to remember.

Two months ago I applied to MIU for a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. I never thought I’d love writing this much, enough to want a degree in it. There was one problem: the school required a 20 to 25 page writing portfolio, and I didn’t have one.

Almost everything I’d written up to that point had AI’s hands in it. It helped me turn raw ideas into something that sounded the way I’d always wanted to write. That felt good, for a while. But I leaned on it too much, and I couldn’t submit a portfolio I hadn’t really written.

So I decided to start from scratch. Best and worst idea I’ve ever had.

I began in late May. By mid-June I was trying to spin too many plates at once, the portfolio, content, a new business model, meetings, all of it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I wasn’t spinning any of those plates. I was just balancing them, barely.

I almost quit. I told myself I’d wait and apply next round.

Then I watched an interview with Ocean Vuong. I haven’t read his work yet, but the way he talked about writing, how much he clearly loved it, pulled something back open in me. I sat down and got to work.

I had five messy rough drafts. Taking that break gave me enough distance to see that one story was actually two, hiding inside the same draft. I split it, cut what didn’t belong, and within a week I had a 21 page portfolio.

Hitting submit made me nervous as hell. I felt like a home cook about to plate something for a five-star Michelin chef, except in this case the chef was the program director.

I submitted it Wednesday evening. Thursday afternoon, she emailed asking to meet the next day at 2.

“I really enjoyed your writing,” she said.

I felt like a contestant hearing Gordon Ramsay say he liked the dish.

She walked me through the residency schedule and a workshop next year. While she talked, one thought kept cutting through: did I get in?

“Any questions for me?”

“Yeah. Did I get in?”

“Not yet. It needs admissions approval, but I see no problem on my end.”

At 5 p.m. that same day, an email said a decision had been made. I opened it on my phone, didn’t even bother walking to my computer. Clicked View Decision. White screen. Two seconds that felt like ten minutes.

Then confetti, and these words:

Congratulations, we are thrilled to inform you of your acceptance to the MFA in Creative Writing.

My portfolio, written in a week, got me into graduate school for something I’ve loved for four years.

I used to feel like an imposter calling myself a writer. My bachelor’s is in graphic design, not English, and I still sometimes forget what an adjective is. But I know I have a passion for storytelling, and I think it shows in my writing. Now I have proof, from a chef whose opinion I respect.

I hate that it took someone else seeing me as a writer before I felt like one. But whatever works, works.

Entering my official writer era. Wish me luck.