When I wait for things, important things, I often find that I am incapable of sustaining myself. Here’s what I mean by this: if I’m hungry, I become incapable of making food. If I’m tired, I watch another movie instead of sleeping. If I’m grumpy, I find excuses to get grumpier. This is how I become the dragon I mentioned in my earlier post about waiting. But I guess I shouldn’t generalize here. When I talk about this kind of waiting, I’m talking about waiting for something important and possibly negative or possibly hugely positive but either way life-changing. In this case, it’s the eleven MFA decision letters I’m expecting in the next month-and-a-half.

This type of waiting can be excruciating. It can be crippling. It can lead to some interesting internal discussion, which, when shared, sounds like you’re headed for mental collapse. But it’s absolutely normal. I know that there are many, many writers out there in this same position or have been in this same position, so I’ve compiled some examples of these absolutely normal thought patterns:

• (While watching The Rum Diary) This movie isn’t great, but it’s definitely literary. I should like it because it’s literary. It’s written by Hunter S. Thompson after all. Have I read anything by him? I don’t think so. Maybe an excerpt. Maybe nothing. Oh god. I haven’t read anything by Hunter S. Thompson, and I won’t get into an MFA, because I haven’t read anything by Hunter S. Thompson, and the programs are going to snoop my Goodreads and see that I haven’t read anything by Hunter S. Thompson.
• (While driving) Without an MFA my life will be like driving. I will drive forever on damp, gray streets and never get anywhere. OR I’ll get in and move and the roads will be different, and I’ll probably get lost, but in that case it won’t matter.
• (Upon waking) I should check my email. I probably have a decision letter waiting.
• (While shopping) That coffee table would go really well in my apartment. But maybe I should wait. If I get in somewhere, I’m going to have to move, and it’s just one more thing to move. And if I buy this and don’t get in, I’ll resent this piece of furniture like I’ve never resented a piece of furniture before. *Walk away, giving said coffee table the stink eye*
• (While writing) This is crap. I don’t know how I ever thought I could get into a program. I should just give up and play Skyrim and drink just enough to get a headache. I can be one of those writers.
• (While writing) This is amazing. This is the best thing I’ve ever written. Why didn’t I write it sooner? I could’ve put it into my portfolio. Maybe I’ll get it published somewhere and a faculty member will see it published in Awesome Magazine X and pull my application from the stack and go “hey, I know this person. They’re awesome.” OR they’ll see it in the magazine and think “why didn’t this person put this story in their portfolio? They obviously don’t know their own work well.” OR “Huh. That name looks familiar.”
• (While blogging) This counts as writing. It’s not a writer’s block if I’m blogging.

As I wait for MFA decision letters, I am overcome by a twisting, rocking combination of expectation and dread. I applied last year and experienced total rejection. This year, I picked smarter schools, worked painfully hard on my sample, and have a much fuller CV. I even managed to read something by most of the faculty members at the schools I applied to. This year, I have definite follow-up plans–moving, finding a job. But even with these plans, I have the sense that I will ultimately be unsatisfied with any existence I might scrape together without an MFA. With five years of experience working in a library, getting an MLS seems to be the most likely alternative, though jobs in public libraries are impossible to get and rarely full time, and this “plan B” is not even a near second to getting an MFA.

But back to this idea of waiting. Around this time last year, I was on vacation in Texas. I had a distraction. This year, there are no such distractions, just the obsessive email checking and status checking–luckily I haven’t started in with this yet–and the farting cloud of doom swirling around my head. I’m both more and less optimistic about my chances this year, so the farting cloud is sometimes replaced by euphoric daydreaming about getting into a program and subsequently having time to focus on writing. Believe me, the farting cloud is much more destructive, especially when it rudely interrupts the euphoric daydreaming.

I know there are countless others in this exact same situation, so I have some waiting DOs and DON’Ts I picked up last year:

• First of all, give your email and your app stat log-ins a rest. Especially the app stat log-ins. I promise the programs will give you their decisions (or let you know that your status has changed) through email or mail or, best yet, phone. Don’t have your email open 24/7 with your finger hovering over F5. Don’t call your mom every day wondering if the mail has come at her house yet–you don’t have a mailing address that you trust more–because you’re going to bring her down, too.
• Take showers to break up the time and refresh your attitude. Do not sit or lay down in the shower. You will end up crying. You might not notice the tears with all the water and shaking and moaning and what not, but you are crying, and it’s not good.
• Exercise. Go for walks. Do yoga. Try to make it through Gaiam’s Cardio Dance Party (available on Hulu) without feeling badass. Do not lay in bed or on the couch or, please God no, on the floor all day. Unless you’re having a lay-in to read or write or you’re deathly ill, such lethargy is going to crack you up. Exercise will improve your mood and help you sleep at night.
• Write. And if you can’t write because the muse doesn’t visit when you’re this worked up, read. It’s what you want to do for the rest of your life and most likely as a career. If you can’t do it when you’re wound up so tight your head’s going to pop off, when can you? And, heaven forbid you don’t get in this year, you’ll be that much further ahead on your sample for next year.
• Go on vacation. Go somewhere where you do not have access to email. Get a slushi, go oggle puppies at the pet store, and then go for a ride. Sure gas is expensive, but your sanity is priceless. If possible, go for a ride in the country. You can drive fast, enjoy the open spaces, and appreciate the scenery you’re possibly going to give up when you move for your MFA. Do not confine yourself to your apartment, house, trailer, house boat. Do not confine yourself to one room. Such confinement will lead to this train of thought “I’m stuck in this room. I will always be stuck in this room, because I’ll never get into a school. But maybe I did get into a school. I should hit refresh again.”
• Love your supporters. Make sure your family, friends, significant others, pets, Twitter followers know how much you appreciate them putting up with your anxiousness.  Maybe bake them something. Don’t act like a dragon 24/7 and expect that it’s not going to have an effect on those around you. You can act like a dragon, but make sure you recognize your fire-breathing and apologize. You can also act like a pygmy marmoset, but that might be a personal problem totally unrelated to your MFA letters.

In other news:

• The third poem in my trio of “How to” poems has just been accepted by Metazen. Look for “How to Slice the World” March 14th. “How to Find Sugar” appeared in The Fiddleback and “How to Plant a Tree” will appear in the first issue of Secret Journal.
• PANK has accepted my short story “Jana lives in this house,”.  Look for it in April.
• I’m anxious for TRNFR Issue 5 to go live. I’ve seen the proofs, and the company I’m in, and I couldn’t be more excited to share it with you.

This is my final post for 30 Graphic Novels in 30 Days. I have to say that I’m relieved. It’s not so much that it was a lot of reading, but it was a lot of reading the same thing, and I’m not sure how much I really got out of it. As a writer, I’m always thinking about how my craft will improve by reading something. In other words, what can I steal? I thought I might get some insight on how to write more natural sounding dialog, but that just wasn’t the case. The dialog in graphic novels has to do everything. In a short story or a novel, it only has to be dialog. As it stands now, I simply got a lot of good reading experiences out of the project. See my project wrap-up following my review of Runaways.

Runaways is the final graphic novel of the project. And let me tell you, it’s a good one. Basically, there are six couples with a kid a piece. Once a year everyone gets together for what the parents tell their kids is something to do with philanthropy. While the parents are engaging in “philanthropy”, the kids are forced to hang out with each other. This year, they discover what their parents are really up to. While exploring secret passageways in the house, the kids witness their parents dressed up in costumes, sacrificing a girl. The kids put together a bunch of clues and realize that they’re parents must be super villains. They runaway and resolve to stop their parents from committing evils. Fortunately, each kid either has a “power” or resource of some kind to kick butt with. If you like X-Men, you’ll love this. I read the deluxe volume one which includes issues 1-18. I highly recommend approaching the series in this way. I would’ve been completely disappointed if I had only read issue one and had to wait for the next.

One complaint: the characters change appearance about halfway through. At the beginning, they’re all very individualistic in dress and face shape, but halfway through they all get better looking. Why?! I don’t know. I won’t dwell on it.

And now to wrap up the series…

Some statistics:

• 30 graphic novels/comics read
• 5496 pages read
• 12 comics, 18 graphic novels
• 20 for adults, 7 for teens, 3 for juveniles
• nearly 1,500 hits this month thanks in part to this project

Worth Reading:

• Amulet: The Stonekeeper
• The Arrival
• Black Hole
• Ghost Stories
• Jimmy Corrigan, the Smartest Kid on Earth
• Locke and Key: Welcome to Lovecraft
• Maus II
• Bone: Out From Boneville
• Preacher: Gone to Texas (My favorite. Go read this right now!)
• Pride of Baghdad
• Runaways
• The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes
• Tales from the Farm
• Watchmen
• When the Wind Blows (just because it’s so odd and morbid)

Middling:

• Bayou Vol. 1
• Embroideries
• Mercury
• Mid-Life
• Moving Pictures
• The Walking Dead: Days Gone Bye

Worth Skipping:

• Any Empire
• Berlin: City of Stones
• Fables: Legends in Exile
• Ghost World
• Kingdom Come
• Percy Gloom
• Pinocchio: Vampire Slayer
• Resistance
• WE3

And the Collected Comic Responses:

(in response to Ghost World)

(in response to Mid-Life)

(in response to Pinocchio: Vampire Slayer)

Today I’m doubling up with Maus II and Ghost Stories: Essex County Vol. 2. As you can tell, both graphic novels are the second in a series, and since most graphic novels/comics/manga come in series, I think it is absolutely necessary for me to include these two in the project.

Maus II continues the biography of Vladek Spiegelman, the author and illustrator’s father, a Polish Jew who lived during WWII. In terms of this being book two, I found the transition fairly seamless. The two are effortlessly connected. The biggest difference between the two is merely subject matter. In the first book, Vladek very cleverly escapes capture. In this one, he suffers in Auschwitz, though his ingenuity does keep him and his wife from death. The narration takes the form of Vladek in the present telling Art about his past, giving the reader a glimpse of current Vladek, a stingy bothersome old man, and the relationship between father and son. Art also draws different races and nationalities as different animals. It’s really quite clever. He never has to slow down to tell the reader which side a character is on. Mice are the Polish Jews, pigs are the non-Jewish Poles, cats are the Germans, and dogs are the Americans. In Maus II, we follow Vladek into Auschwitz. And with any holocaust story, the details and events are grim and upsetting, but Art does a lot by balancing the past story with what is happening in the present. A lot of the titles I read for this project centered around war, in particular WWII, but the Maus books are by far the best. Art Spiegelman deserves every ounce of acclaim he has received for them.

Ghost Stories is the second book in the Essex County Trilogy. If you remember, I reviewed the first book, Tales from the Farm, earlier in the project. Unlike Maus, Ghost Stories is not a direct sequel. It does not pick up where the other left off, rather it picks up a different narrative path. At first, I felt alienated by this whole new set of characters and events, but as I read, I accepted the new story and was rewarded in the end by the revealed connection between the two books. Ghost Stories is about two brothers who play hockey in Canada. Actually it’s about much more than that. The narrator, Lou, is elderly and suffering from dementia in the present. He thinks back on his days playing minor league hockey with his brother, on an affair he had with hisbrother’s wife, and on the twenty-five year rift and the child that resulted. As in Tales from the Farm, Ghost Stories is a simply told narrative. Jeff Lemire does what so many literary writers do, he takes regular people with regular lives and exposes the importance.  You can read the first few pages of the graphic novel by following this link.

Tomorrow is the last day of 30 Graphic Novels in 30 Days. Whoosh. I’m relieved to be almost done. I’ll post about Runaways and wrap the series up with some “best of” lists.