I graduated with my MFA in fiction thirteen years ago, and I’ve never been to any of the Alumni events held by the school. First of all, it’s too expensive to fly to North Carolina and stay in a hotel and pay tuition. Second, I’ve been busy with other things for the past few years: taking psychology classes, then working on my MSW, and now teaching. But, to be honest, even if I could have made the time, or afforded the trip, I was too scared to go. I didn’t want to face people who had made more of their writing careers, or their teaching careers, or their editing and publishing careers than I had. I can barely keep my ego ticking as it is, and I was afraid that going back into that environment with so little to show for myself might crush me.
This year, because of Covid, the alumni programming was planned for Zoom, or something like Zoom. It would just be for one day, and free, and easy to get to, but I was still reluctant to go. I was afraid that I wouldn’t know that many people, and I was afraid that I would see people I did know, and didn’t really want to see again, but most of all, I was afraid that I would fall into a shame spiral, comparing myself to other people and how brave they are, and how persistent they’ve been, and how confident they are about their right to be heard. I was also afraid that the intellectual snobbery thing – we write literary fiction – would leak all over me and make me feel shitty, and my ego strength would return to where it was when I was in that school, and I would fall off an emotional cliff.
Given all of that, it was hard to understand why I was even considering going to this thing. It felt like some perverse way of testing myself, to see if I’ve changed in the past fifteen years. But I also felt guilty for not pushing myself to go to any of the previous years’ events, and missing out on the possibility that someone or something at one of those reunions could have helped me build my writing career. I don’t think I’ve ever really healed from the writing workshops in graduate school: the jealousy, the demeaning quality of the criticism, the conformity of the standards, the daily reality that everything is a competition for scarce resources… That’s why when I run writing workshops now, I try hard to make them therapeutic and welcoming and non-competitive, because my own experiences in writing workshops were so much the opposite.
But then there was the boy. I think of him as a boy because we were both so immature when we met in graduate school. He’s off on his own track now, married with kids and a good job, and I’m still me. I wanted to see him, but only if he was going to smile at me and be happy to see me; I didn’t want to see him if he was going to pity me, or look down on me. And I didn’t even know if he would be there.
Maybe most of all, I wanted to see if this one day return to graduate school could help me restart my confidence around trying to get published. I’ve been steely-eyed about making sure I get a blog post written each week, no matter what other responsibilities come up, but I haven’t been as strong-willed in the past few years about working on and sending out my other writing projects.
It’s just so freaking hard to ignore the rejections.
I finally filled out the registration form for the Alumni event, thinking I could still decide not to go at the last minute. I chose a few sessions to go to, and gave myself permission to leave sessions early, or go to more of them, depending on how things went.
I woke up early on Alumni day, well, earlier than I wanted to, and went to my first event in the living room. The timing of the first session was lucky, because I had my regular phone call with my therapist scheduled for right afterwards. That safety net was reassuring. I flipped through multiple screens looking for faces I might recognize, and then I checked the participants list. I saw a few familiar names from the school Facebook group, but not many from my time in the program, so I took a break for a few minutes, paced the floor, watched some terrible news, and then went back to the computer for a reading by one of the graduates from my time who’d been more successful than me. And I survived. The therapy break right afterwards was a relief, though, and then there was a writing workshop that felt more like a literature class, which is not my thing, and then I slept through a panel I’d wanted to go to, on book promotion, because I was exhausted from all of the zooming by then.
To make up for missing the Book Promotion panel, I forced myself to go to the first few minutes of the final event, an Open Mic, despite not having it on my to-do list ahead of time. I actually tried to stay for a while and support my fellow alumni but I couldn’t seem to sit still anymore, and I wanted to start writing this blog post, because I couldn’t really be sure what the day had meant to me until I could look at it in squiggles on the page.
I was disappointed not to see the boy; maybe he’d gone to one of the sessions I’d skipped, or maybe he was too busy, or maybe he was just as afraid of returning to graduate school as I was, or maybe he was afraid of seeing me. And I was disappointed that I didn’t recognize many of the other alumni on the screen, and that my impulse to send out my work was still in snooze mode. I was disappointed that Alumni day hadn’t turned out to be a great step forward in my life, or a chance to confront deep dark old wounds, or get a great idea for a new book, but, the good news was that I didn’t fall into a shame spiral either. I’d given it a try, and then I’d listened to my discomfort and my own point of view, and I let myself shrug it off. That wouldn’t have been possible fifteen years ago, or ten, or even five. I was able to hear the old thoughts pass through my mind – you’re not trying hard enough to fit in, you’re not the right kind of writer, you don’t deserve success because you don’t know how to give people what they want – and I picked up each old thought like a Daddy Long Legs in the bathtub and I set it aside. And that was it.
It was an anticlimactic experience, but, in its way, it was a significant step forward for me. I said yes to something that scared me, I gave it a try, and then when it didn’t work out, I was able to just let it go. And then I took the dogs out for a walk, wrote the first draft of this blog post, and watched a Hallmark movie, or two. Not such a bad day after all.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my Young Adult novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 
Yay 💕
Good for you, Rachel!
Thank you!
You did it! That’s what counts–you did it. Good for you, Rachel!!
Thank you!
Ah, the joy of staring down a fear and surviving. Well done!
Thank you!
Good on you for doing something that scared you. 👍
Thank you!
You signed up, you attended, and nothing bad happened. This a win in my eyes.
Mine too! Thank you!
I know how you feel. I have missed all except the very first of my high school reunions. It’s crazy how we stress ourselves out with comparisons but it seems inevitable. I am sorry your writing classes were so damaging. My Uni classes were pretty good. But I don’t think we do Alumni events like you do. It’s an interesting idea .
And, if you want somebody to compare yourself to, I have not published a single thing since completing my degree. This blog is the most regular writing I have done in fifteen years (that’s when I stopped keeping a journal).
Blogs count as real writing, right? Please?!
Definitely! My sister in law told me the other day “Oh my Gosh! I suddenly realized you’re a real writer!” I had no idea what she was talking about. Turned out she meant my blog. 😊.
Blogs are absolutely real writing. I always find yours interesting and full of insight.
Thank you!
You turned up and you showed willing. That’s what counts.
Thank you!
Be brave Rachel. You’ve got what it takes.
Thank you!
What a major step to do what frightened you. You survived. You did not allow yourself to fall into the hole of the coulda, shoulda, woulda. You are strong and moving forward every day.
It’s such a relief to see that I really have made progress. I’m so aware of the day by day that I forget to see the bigger picture.
Good for you Rachel! I’m sure Cricket and Ellie were cheering you on every step of that day. Now if only there was that self-storage unit you spoke of in last week’s blog for rejections.
That would be awesome!
Good for you for signing up and showing up. Personally, I think reunions are over-rated–like social media posts that make people’s lives look better (happier, richer, etc.) than they really are. You are a real writer who has published a real book. And you have done tons of inner work, something that takes great courage. (I love the “You’re so melodramatic,” caption; it is something my dog might have said to me.)
I can always rely on Cricket to bring me back down to earth.
Just keep reading that last paragraph. In fact, I feel like this post addresses many of the scariest issues with which you’ve been dealing. Great job! Doggie power!!!
Thank you!
Good for u!!! More strength to you!!
Thank you!
Wow, Rachel, your description of your feelings of inadequacy and the ego-driven environment of writers reminds me of similar observations made by creative writing profs. Having been in computer science, where people learn to work in teams and typically don’t try to one up each other wrt their creative genius. When I heard all this angst coming from colleagues in creative writing I was aghast. And reading your outpouring, I am saddened by all those people who have been made to feel as you’re describing. Good for you for “attending”, and keep reminding yourself that it wasn’t so amazing; nothing you need to emulate. You are just fine. Keep telling yourself that and forge your own path. Writing this post and pressing the Publish button was a good first step!
Thank you! The head of that program did his best to counteract the competitive environment, because he’d gone to a program that was truly brutal and hated it, but there’s just something about writing programs…
So I’m learning and having reinforced. I hope you can move past it completely and just love your craft.
I will always be a writer!
I have never been a cheerleader, never done a cheer, but right now I want to jump up and down and yell “YAAAAAAAY Rachel!!!!!”
What you did was huge, in my eyes. And super inspiring!!!!!
Thank you so much!
That all sounds exhausting! I’m impressed. You held it together beautifully. Sorry about the panel, though you probably needed sleep. I have never gone to one college or grad school alumni function. And only one high school.
Cricket feels the same way about reunions of her puppy class; totally not going there.
You did it! Accept that you did. You deserve self-praise! Give yourself a huge hug! Pat yourself on the back! Look in the mirror, and tell yourself that YOU matter, because you DO!
Writing classes and conventions mean nothing, in my opinion. They only exacerbate our feelings of inadequacy, self-defeat, and comparison to others we deem ‘better’ than us. That is wrong on so many levels, and why I no longer attend them.
You came, you saw, you left. That is enough. You are enough. Believe! You are enough. You are a good human. -Lorri xo
Thank you so much!
Typical that these sort of events, once faced, turn out to be something of an anti climax; thus proving, somehow, your worth. Ace, Rachel.
A boy.
xo
Thank you!
Lord help, as they say in my neighborhood. In the first place, Rachel, I’m thinking that we went to the same MFA program in North Carolina (?), and if you went 13 years ago, then we were there at the same time, as I graduated in January 2007. How is it that our paths didn’t cross? If they had, we could have commiserated, and possibly shored each other up, as I almost quit the program after my 2nd semester. The only reason I didn’t is that I’d already sunk too much $$$ in the 1st year. And also, because there were good-hearted, kind and talented people I met who made up for the creeps. But as you point out, the latter are the ones who have the most effect on you, and make you doubt your ability. In my 1st small workshop, I had a classmate who wrote B-T-K (bind-torture-kill) stories that I thought were misogynistic in the extreme. He thought I was a washed-up old frump with outmoded ideas and style. He actually told me, in writing, that I didn’t belong in an MFA program. I gotta tell you, when my novel was published by Algonquin in 2017 I wanted to send him the Kirkus Review. I restrained myself, but barely. And this is why I haven’t attended any of the Alumni Reunions and probably never will. Most of the people who dominate events like that are self-promoters, people who need to feel important and to make sure they are big fish in small ponds. The talented people are home writing. I have a tee-shirt to that effect, from a women’s writing collective in Nashville, a quote by Wm. Faulkner: “Don’t be a writer; be writing.” The fact that you ARE writing, and thinking, and thinking about writing much of the time, and taking workshops, is what’s important. Writing is not a career one ‘gets ahead’ in — it is a calling. If you’ve got that calling, and I think you do, then YOU are the only person who needs to be impressed.
I so wish we’d met back then!!!!!
Dear Rachel,
I praise you for your writing skills, honesty, and courage! You have a session with your therapist during the week. But you are OUR therapist over the weekend. Thanks so much, my friend!
Keep writing and keep going! Shavua tov,
Fabio
You are so kind! Thank you!!!!
Well done, Rachel! It can be so hard to try and confront worrisome situations.
Thank you!
facing your fears ALWAYS pays off. no pain, no gain!
It’s good to confront our demons as we often discover they’re not as scary as we thought.
Sometimes they’re even scarier!
☹️
You have conquered a fear of “not being good enough – or worthy enough” that has kept me from attending a single one of my class reunions! Many of my classmates have gone on to make themselves great successes, keeping themselves on the paths they had chosen for life back then. I, instead, rebelled and went in completely opposite directions than what they might have expected of me. Nonetheless, I’m content with my life and the success I’ve become as a human being; and I fear going back to those people and losing that feeling of success! Well done!
I had no idea this was such a universal feeling! No wonder so many of my old classmates didn’t go to the reunion either.
I completely relate to this. I would be very reluctant to attend alumni events for exactly the same reasons. I’m also incredibly reluctant to create a LinkedIn profile for the same reasons again, even though employers and recruiters say it’s necessary. I’m glad your day ended up not so bad after all.
Just choosing my picture for LinkedIn made me nauseous.
That class you took in college…it sounds like the professor should never have had that job. You are doing the right thing in the writing classes you are over, encouragement, constructive criticism, helping not hurting. Shame on that professor and the mean-spirited students! Hopefully the students have matured and left those attitudes behind. You did great, attending the zoom. Looks like this social distancing thing isn’t all bad after all.
Social distancing, it turns out, is perfect for me!
Thank you to Susan Rivers for her comment above. I was going to say that I wondered also how many of those people you worried about meeting have successful blogs with many thousands of followers? Perhaps not so many.
Thank you!!!
Rachel, thank you, this was my vital reading for today; and thank you too, Susan Rivers.
Thank you!!!!
I kinda felt the same way about a high school reunion I was supposed to have earlier this year. I was actually thinking about physically going to the one out of state, but dreading it for similar reasons of comparison, etc. When it moved to zoom, eliminating my “too much cost to go”… I was even less interested in attending it. 🤷♀️
Ha!
I enjoy your writing very much and this one touched an almost universal experience. Most of us compare and feel we come up short behind all those other people who are so much better, smarter, and better looking. Turns out those people are often doing the same thing. You did it even though it would have been easier to hide. I’ve done a bit of that hiding myself. You can feel good about yourself.
Thank you so much!
Your courage is so very real and inspiring… what a great experience to read about!
Thank you so much!
I went to two school reunions. The first one was held at the old school building, when I was about 30 years old. Nobody was how I expected them to turn out. A girl I once had a ‘thing’ with had become a lesbian and was living with an older woman. A guy who was a complete fool at school was a successful money trader and earning a fortune. And the boy I had expected to do so well acdemically was driving a taxi and had four children
The only people who were the same were the teachers. They were just older, but unchanged.
Best wishes, Pete.
I would totally go to a reunion as a teacher, to see how my kids turned out. That would be awesome!
I actually related far better to the teachers than to my former classmates. 🙂
good for you facing something that unnerved you head on! well done!!!
Thank you!
You’re welcome Rachel.
Small steps count, too, Rachel. ❤
I haven’t been to any events related to my university experience since I graduated back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Last year my high school closed, and I didn’t go to that event either. I’m not very good at looking back.
Now that we have Facebook, most of the people you would want to see again have already been in touch in some way. Dinosaurs would be very cool Facebook friends; the baby pictures alone…..
I graduated 51 years ago from an intimidating university with ivy on the red brick walls. I shuddered every time the alumni report came as I saw everyone “making it big.’ The alumni questionnaires asked about income and the first option was $150,00 and under! But for the 50th report I shared that I had been dissociated through most of my time and had spent the ensuing years trying to heal. To heck with them all. And best of all I got a call from a lovely man who started off with “do you remember me? We went out for about a minute.” And we had a great connection. You never know!
That’s lovely!!
It was.
So happy you faced that fear, Rachel. I think you underestimate your power to reach people through your words. You seem so successful to me. I guess it’s the “eye of the beholder” syndrome. Regardless, congrats!’
Thank you so much!
YOU WROTE A BOOK AND GOT PUBLISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A gazillion of us have never done that, you know And it’s a really good book, too I’m really glad you did this, though. And proud of you
Thank you!!!
Rachel, congrats on your anniversary, but most importantly your insatiable appetite for learning and sharing such with others. Where in NC did earn this degree? Keith
Charlotte. A very friendly place, ironically.
Great place from where I sit.
PS – Queens, Davidson or UNCC? Were you active in the Jewish community here?
Queens, but low residency, so I didn’t have a chance to visit local synagogues.
Rachel, neat school. I work in supporting non-profits and, before I retired, with several Jewish community members. The Jewish community is quite active in helping people in need in Charlotte. The folks walk the talk. There is retired Rabbi here that led by example and many followed her lead. She now teaches at Queens. Keith
Awesome!
Congratulations on being so courageous! I know how you feel; in 2016, I avoided attending my 10-year high school reunion because I was ashamed of myself and my joblessness.
It’s hard to figure out who actually enjoys these reunions.
My guess is successful people who can brag about their lives to their old classmates.
Harrumph.
Good for you for going! I think what is important about your writing is that it is yours, your voice, your feelings, your hopes, your fears. Your writing is authentic – that’s a great achievement in any profession.Onward.
Thank you! You always know how to cheer me up!
Well done you for attending! Your writing is so wonderfully honest and “human” (and your dogs are so darn cute)!
Thank you!
Rachel, thank you for sharing this. While doing the care-giving gig for my parents I struggled with showing up @ my 10-year grad school reunion. (How to explain not using degree?) A good friend dragged me (no excuses, I live down the street from our grad school!) My very successful classmates surprised me with their encouragement. Since then I’ve turned up for other events with a little more courage, even if I don’t fit the mold.
BTW, I consider YOU a huge success, Rachel. With your book on Amazon, so many followers, your amazing blog posts – you inspire me to keep going. 🙂
Thank you so much!
I think this is a universal fear. I missed my 10 year college reunion. I even have an interesting and reasonably successful career (at least some would perceive it that way), and I still got incredibly drunk the night before the reunion and was thus too hung over to attend. LinkedIn is useful, but it drives me crazy with comparing myself to everyone.
Huge win for you to go, and to dispose of those thoughts like cleaning spiders out of the bathtub (I love that description, btw)!
Thank you!!!!
Read your very honest piece then went through the responses. As I respond, over 200 people already have reacted positively to it and over 100 have taken the time to comment! You’re writing and publishing to a very real audience. And as others have pointed out, you’ve got a book out there! Remember that. As yet another graduate of an MFA program, Susan Rivers’s comments resonated with me (to use a a classic workshop term). Remember her thoughts–and also those of Faulkner, which she shared. Thank you for another compelling and inspiring piece. And stay strong and continue to let those doggies help you do that.
Thank you so much!
I really enjoyed this piece as I do all of your posts. I enjoy them because I love your writing style, your honesty and personal insight. You have a real gift. Please, please don’t try to ‘write what other people want’. Your voice is a gift that you share weekly with us and I for one really appreciate it.
Thank you so much!!!!
I enjoyed this piece! I can feel the fear too, missed so many reunions.
You have written it so amazingly
Thank you so much!
Man, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks a writer is or isn’t. If you write, you’re a writer, and if you want to do it, you should. I think you’re great and wish you every success. In my opinion, art is not to be good at, art is to do, and any success or approval by others’ is outside of that – adjacent, not integral.
I suppose my strong opinions come from my personality first, let’s be honest, but also from my own personal struggle with writing. I knew i had something to say, and i knew i wanted to write it, but i also knew i had zero education outside of grade 12 English; small town schools where creative writing wasn’t much part of the curriculum, and there were no courses to take. Plus, surviving my parents also took up a lot of my time.
When i finally picked up my blog, it was because i’d found the friendship of a circle of people who filled me with support and encouraged me to say what i wanted to say. After poking away at it for a while i realised that my gift was that, while i’m not going to be a famous, published writer, i’ve found my voice. I love writing, and i’m going to keep doing it.
I think you’re good, but that doesn’t matter. Write. Your art is for you, first.
Hope that came off like the pep talk i wanted it to be. Yes, i’ve found my voice on my own blog, but sometimes my interpersonal skills are lacking.
You keep writing and i’ll keep reading. 🙂
Thank you for the pep talk!
Yeah, it just resonated. Sorry if i overstepped. A bit manic right now, and i just want to save everyone and for everyone to be happy.
I hope you find peace in your talent and artistry.
You did it! Awesome! I’m happy for you.
Thank you!