I'm in entropic mode, it seems. Every day, I just race home to write or avoid writing. I don't go out, talk to anyone in the real world, do anything. (Except my writing ritual in the mornings.)
Some people find a maintenance mode at some point. They garden. They have circles of real life friends who come over for barbecues. This totally happens. What am I running away from or to all the time? You know what would kick ass? If THAT became more apparent.
I worked on my SOP for Kansas this morning. Done but for one sentence, I think. I'm still looking for winning examples out there or a good SOP mentor. If I get in anywhere this go around, I want to start a site with the SOPs of accepted candidates. Doesn't matter the program, just winning personal statements. See? Even I can't not call it winning. The alternative is losing. Or at least as winning as a DNR (which is to say not very).
An engaging article that did not demonize MFAs came to my attention today via the Twitter machine. It didn't totally idolize them, either, but it did make me wish that Syracuse had a nonfiction track, so I could sneak into dreamy George Saunders' workshops. The Faster Times: You Are Not the Only One Writing About Moldavian Zookeepers.