Be Vanilla: Recommendations and a Bit of Ra-Ra Advice

for Those Embarking on a Low Residency MFA

by derek allard

When approached by family or friends, who will mean well, but will ask the dreaded question: “Hey, how’s the writing going?” I offer you the following advice: Be vanilla in your answer. I suggest an uninflected “fine,” or, my favorite, the “meh” accompanied by a dismissive head shake. This will send a clear message: not now. You’ll be saved. Don’t ever be so glowing or arrogant as to say “You know, it’s going really well!” This will only bring damnation upon you from the divine muses and you’ll be rewarded with follow ups from Uncle Eno or your friend Jude such as “Ah, that’s great! What are you working on?” Now things get dicey. Now you’re in the weeds. How do you explain that you’re writing about, say, a porn shop turned child education center? How do you explain that you’re writing about, say, Garfield and Odie imprisoned in a basement created by Jim Davis’ mind? Who will understand this? No one. Not Uncle Eno. Not friend Jude. Similarly, do not grow too gloomy or too morose. This will solicit questions about your mental health, which, admittedly, because you have chosen this path, has already declined precipitously. Be vanilla.

But what if they are asking with a genuine interest? What if—No! Let me stop you right there. A genuine interest? My goodness, what could be more horrifying? Your job now is to never tell the truth. Except in your writing. You’ll never be vanilla again. Your highs will be too high. Your lows will be too low. But be vanilla with them. Because if you’re not, these conversations continue. Worse, there will be lulls and you will fill these lulls, trust me, with one or more of the following admissions:

• That you’ve sped to the library, frantic, sweating, but certain osmosis will work.

• That you’ve bought out all the inspirational writing books from your local book store. That you’ve read these books. That you’ve clung to them. When this happens, know that you’re sunk.

• That you’ve come to believe with religious fervor in lucky rooms, lucky chairs, a lucky writing hat that crushes your head, lucky socks.

• That you keep long, and I mean long, psychologically unbalanced long, lists of noteworthy words, and even worse, you read them, over and over convinced they will “affect” your writing. Will they? One can hope!

• That you’ve proudly read one hundred pages a day in a self-deceiving effort to avoid your writing. When this happens, know that you’ve flipped upside down.

• That chores, long abandoned, have become a thing of unequivocal national importance: laundry, washing windows, repairing that busted toaster that’s been in the basement since 2004.

• That you loathe the Times New Roman font with a near demonic fury. That you’ve spent hours, if not months, searching for the “right” font that will make everything better.

• That you proudly tell everyone you keep to an exact writing schedule yet fail to mention your 1.5 hour yogurt breaks. Good Lord!

• That you’ve developed an unhealthy (and you fear undying) love of these goddamned judge shows.

Who wants to admit to such things? Do you? I don’t think so. So remember. Be vanilla. Always be vanilla with them.

So why do we do this? Why do we write? Because life is a story and if you’re not telling a story you’re being told a story and that is not your story and you know, deep down, that your story needs to be told and who better to tell your story than you? Yes there are high highs. Yes there are low lows. But you have peers now and because of them you will never have to live your dead life again. You are not vanilla, we are not vanilla, this work is not vanilla. The truth, cliche though it may be, is that everything you need already lives inside you. (Ra ra!) The trick is getting those words to come out, to put them down on the page so you can look at them, love them, so you can see these words and their wonderful potential and these words can look up at you and say: You’ve arrived. I’m here.

Derek Allard is a current student in the Mountain View MFA program of Southern New Hampshire University.