Another illusion shattered today: I don’t think I’ll ever be a literary grant recipient. I thought maybe I could be. I’ve also thought, at various times in my life, that I could be a MFA kind of person but I keep changing my mind. In theory, when toying with the idea is like watching a cloud move across the sky, it sounds interesting and exciting. But when I think about the actual process of work shopping my writing with the same people for two or three years, of reading or listening to their writing for two or three years and probably hoping that my writing would not begin to sound like their writing or that my writing would not begin to be “MFA-y,” I get cold feet. Not to mention that sometimes I feel like MFA’s turn people into whiny bitches. But that’s just me.