Abramson Leslie Consulting: The Parodies Write Themselves
Last December, I chided Seth Abramson for treating literature like “a problem that might solved by a particularly dedicated group of McKinsey consultants.” Apparently he took that message to heart, though not in the way one might have hoped:
Here’s my favorite part of the whole thing, which certainly qualifies as creative writing:
And here’s a quick tip, kids: before you shell out that $335, you might want to direct a general inquiry or concern to Abramson Leslie Customer Service and ask what kind of discount you get if your teacher mentor associate consulting partner hasn’t mastered basic grammar:
Just remember, Jack Spicer Will Have His Revenge on Iowa.
But in the meantime, the hardest thing to stomach is the dawning realization that we who find this appalling are in the minority.
please please please tell me this is a joke.
Ange, that may be, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what’s taking him so long.
Joshua: Alas.
Anyway, here’s a little something for both of you.
Thanks Robert. But we’re a long way from the mid 20th c, which was the last time anyone could be high-minded about anything.
I am so out of this country! …
This is amazing. God bless him.
In a related development, I have just opened Robbins Douchebag Consulting, which is the first ever consulting firm designed exclusively for graduates of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop who are hellbent on making complete asses out of themselves.
Michael, where is your sibilant S? Douche bag. Or does it only come with names? I forget the rules.
By the way, Michael, I’m joking.
I am in substantial agreement with what has been said in the comments here (and I certainly appreciate the precision of Bobby’s critique) so what I’m about to say in no way counts as a defense of ALC. But I wonder why ALC should be more objectionable to anyone than, say, poets getting paid to write articles for a major publication or, it may be, getting paid to teach upper middle-class children how to write lyrics or research papers on Keats (or poets living on inherited wealth or whatever). Despite its best objections that it is not treating poetry like a business—and the protest here seems to reflect in no small way the language of MFA programs and websites—ALC of course in some way is. But the problem with treating poetry like a business in the United States is not that it debases poetry but that it is not a very good business, despite (and because of) the massive dollars that flow into some coffers. Or, to put it another way, the problem with ALC is not (just) that it treats literature as an opportunity for a “dedicated group of McKinsey consultants,” nor is it (just) that it is unaware or unwilling to recognize its role in structures and systems of privilege. The problem is (above all) that poetry–not just Iowa–is already embedded within social mechanisms of capital, and ALC provides a tempting (because exaggerated) target that threatens to make us feel as though we are also opposing a far larger and far more sinister condition because we oppose it alone.
Besides, it’s cheaper than Kaplan.
And please note the following corrections: delete “in some way” after “of course,” and change “unaware” to “unable” (there is another I won’t bother with). Ah, glass houses.
Oh, Boyd, do we really have to talk about this guy anymore? What Seth is doing is different from those other things you mention because, well, it’s a different thing. I object to this little enterprise of his on just about every level, from the pretention of its absurd law-firm structure, to the presumption that a few folks just graduated from their MFA are qualified as entrance counselors, to the notion that a person who can’t be bothered to proof-read his own advertisement should be trusted (and paid!) to edit others’ work.
But okay, here’s why I think even the premise of the thing is worthy of all the scorn and derision we can pile on:
For the sake of argument, let’s keep the MFA out of it. Obviously we could go around for days about the value of the degree–oh right, we already have–but let’s stipulate (even though I don’t accept the point) that Seth’s position is correct: that getting an MFA is generally a good thing for an aspiring writer as long as she doesn’t have to go into debt to do it. My complaint is that Seth’s little firm is crummy whether it does what it purports to do or not.
Let’s say Seth and his cronies succeed in exactly the way they hope to: they offer a valuable service that improves their clients’ chances of getting into the best MFA programs. In that case, they’ll have succeeded in making the market for MFA admissions more competitive, but they’ll have done so without improving the skill of the applicants. A person who pays ALC to help polish their portfolio and statement of purpose might come out of the process with a better application but they won’t come out a better writer. (This is why, despite Seth’s protests, there is a difference between what he’s doing and what colleges and workshops do.) The only difference between an ALC-polished portfolio and a non-ALC polished portfolio will be the money that the author of the former was willing to hand over to Seth and his co-conspirators. Which means that ALC will have succeeded in introducing one more cash-based barrier of entry to the writing world. That’s a bad thing, in my book, on par with the invention of the unpaid editorial internship.
But now consider a more likely scenario: let’s say Seth and his accomplices don’t offer a valuable service, that they really aren’t able to help people improve their chances of getting into an MFA program. In that case, it’s a pure scam, one that’s nevertheless sustainable because there’s no objective way for a person to know whether she wasted her money. (Who knows whether Iowa would have taken you if you’d turned in your pre-ALC portfolio? Even year-to-year comparisons can’t be trusted, since admissions committees and application pools change all the time.) I have no doubt that a company like Seth’s could succeed selling a worthless service because it happens all the time. While there may be, as you say, no market for poetry in this country, there’s still a huge market for services that will help people become “real” poets. And it’s not hard to imagine that even people who aren’t rubes, people who really are on their way to becoming real and successful writers, would be tempted to fork over hundreds of dollars to Seth and his accessories, just to be sure. (The arms race scenario of the last paragraph could just as easily happen in the absence of a real service.) It’s despicable to prey on the insecurity and ambition of young people, and while Seth can swear up and down that he intends to do no such thing, if he’s not improving people’s chances to get into an MFA program, that’s exactly what he’ll be doing.
Either way you slice it, it’s shit cake.
No, we certainly don’t have to—and shouldn’t—talk about this more (especially in view of your nuanced comments above), and I recall I even once expressed impatience over similar topics somewhere around here. And while you’re right that ALC is different from those things I mentioned (perhaps not least because teaching and writing allow for an actual contribution to scholarship and literature), my point is just that at some level I see those activities in their present form as objectionable too, which is to say that at some level I wish those jobs didn’t exist because I wish the systems of privilege that enable them didn’t exist. And I have met lots of people who would bristle at the idea of ALC but who don’t give a damn about poetry’s far more insidious, if attenuated and mystified, relationship to “business” elsewhere, etc. So be it: a topic separate from the one at hand, which is just, as you clarified, this: the ALC cake is shit no matter how you slice it, and, if it becomes de rigueur, no matter whether young MFAers end up shelling out the $335 or not.
Thanks for the follow-up, Boyd. I think you’re more radical than I am. I don’t object to any of those things you mentioned earlier, and I don’t object to the idea of privilege in art. I believe that some art is better than others, just as I believe that some artists are better than others. I’m happy to see privilege doled out accordingly. I just don’t like it when cash is confused for talent. The dream of an art world governed by values entirely different from those that reign in the marketplace may be—no, is—impossibly utopian, but I nevertheless think that dream a useful north to steer by.
Robert,
I don’t think the best way to attract interest in your ideas is to seethe with animus at the subject of your diatribes. Calling some fiction-writers and poets I know through my graduate program “cronies” and “accessories” is not just cowardly because it’s exactly the sort of unpleasant, cocksure BS you wouldn’t say if you were talking to me or to any of them face-to-face, but because you’re using it as a crutch for a painfully half-assed argument. You’ve just spilled a few hundred words above to say nothing more than this: “How do we know that an ALC critique is less valuable to a writer’s long-term self-improvement than a critique offered in a workshop setting? Because it is.” That’s sloppy reasoning, not even “reasoning” but bile, and whatever your deal with me is–I cringe when you pretend to not want to talk about me, and yet you can’t seem to stop writing about me, though I don’t know you and am hardly an interesting or important enough person to be written about–sloppy reasoning is just that. You simply can’t imagine, Bob, that any advice I would give, or that others working with me would give–whose “unqualified” credentials I’d put up against nearly anyone’s; I think most unpublished college seniors would be happy to have their work reviewed by someone whose short fiction has appeared in Best American Short Stories, but I’ll leave that aside–could possibly be targeted to help applicants in the same way, and using the same methods, as a high-end MFA workshop. You’ve pulled from nowhere the word “polish”–which appears nowhere in any writings in any way connected to ALC–when our mission is quite clearly to work with writers to improve their long-term skill-sets (Jesus, Bob, you’ve actually taken a _photo_ of the web-page in which we state that; don’t you read your own pathetic attempts at takedowns?). I mean, isn’t it odd that I and all of my peers at ALC were trained in giving critiques at precisely that form of institution (an MFA) which you implicitly state, above, does allow for the sort of criticism from which writers can derive long-term improvement? Why in the world would we set up an outfit in which we use a skill-set other than the one we’re most familiar with? And why, if you want to know whether my advice is worth anything, would you ignore the few hundred young writers who post on my blog, the MFA Blog, and many other blogs saying that they’ve found my advice invaluable? Is it because you’re lazy, you’re disingenuous, or you’re spiteful? A combination of these? Are you bored with life, Bob? I can’t fathom you, so I ask these things in a tone of wonderment the internet can’t really transmit. But hey: you just blithely critiqued a website by *proofreading it*, so at this point you could be anything between a fifth-grader’s phallus and a giant proboscis, I’ve no idea and you can imagine my confusion I’m sure. You bring zero to the table and you do it so proudly that I can only image you have a secret.
What exactly is your contribution to the poetry community, Bob? You’ve got big plans for American poetry, keeping it pure I mean, but have you ever gotten off your butt even once–stuck your neck out besides your empty talk here–to do the first thing to advance your ideas? You don’t like my ideas, fine; at least I’m putting my principles into action, however degraded you feel those principles are. And what’ve you got, Robert? Trash-talk? Seriously, am I missing something? Because I don’t see you offering anything of value besides schlock to anyone here or anywhere else, so enlighten me as to why (as this thread implicitly suggests, including its cheerleaders) it’s to people like you poetry should turn for self-justified, melodramatic outrage.
Look, you’re intellectually disingenuous, and it’s because you’ve got some beef with me, and the only saving grace to your petty pretense of indignation is that your sloppy argument is readily apparent as such rather than cannily (and thus interestingly) so. Were your ideas interesting or coherent, if their flaws were less evident, I’d probably have to spill another hundred words imploding what passes for your “theory” and “reasoning” here.
Bottom line, have the courage to either not write about me or else, if you do, a) admit you think I’m a piece of human garbage (so that everything else you say about my projects/ideas can be discredited by that bile alone), b) tackle my ideas and not your view of my personality or motives (which you know goddamn poop about), and c) don’t ever whine about having to write or talk about me when it’s your own hard-up blogging skills which keep you from finding anything actually interesting to write about here. If you ever want to have a conversation in which you don’t act like a flaming douchebag, let me know; I like discussion, I don’t run from it (as you know), and unlike you when I make an argument I put my ducks in a freaking row.
I mean seriously Bob, man up.
S.
Is that you, Franz?
Bob,
If you’ve ever interacted personally and privately with Franz via the internet, you’ll know that he’s less polite than I am and has less patience than I do for what he’d likely call “the envy of mediocrities.” You’ve no reason to envy me, that’s for sure, but certainly everything I’ve read from you on this blog has been mediocre: in thought, in design, in aim.
Repeat: man up. You want to discuss this, let’s. You want to post captures from my website and use a thesaurus to slander poets and writers you don’t know, and who you’ve no right whatsoever to cast aspersions against, continue on.
S.
Jesus, “man up”? Why don’t you do the full Buckley and threaten to punch me in my goddamned mouth?
Look, Seth, I may be an asshole–in this instance I definitely am–but there’s nothing half-assed about my argument. Your website states very clearly that what your clients get for their money is one email’s worth of feedback and one follow-up email “conference” (the extent of which one can guess from its possible substitution by a single telephone call). Just as it states very clearly (on the front page, no less) that the intent of the consultation is to “substantially improve the quality of their creative portfolios and Statements of Purpose.” Perhaps you think you can provide an educational experience that will significantly improve a person’s “long-term skill-sets” within the space of those parameters; if so, you are more deluded than I thought.
And, uh, I wasn’t aware that I had to make a “contribution” before I could call bullshit when I saw it. But if that’s the paradigm we’re working with, I’ll happily yield the floor to more accomplished voices. I’ve got work to do.
I wish more of the “work” you had to do included reading the ALC website without burying your head in your keyboard. You know, Bob, right-clicking your mouse and selecting “Save Image As” so you can type up some snark here doesn’t qualify as “reading.” An ALC consultation takes whoever is doing it hours and hours to complete–the website clearly explains that every single poem in the portfolio receives extensive feedback, the entire portfolio receives general feedback, suggestions for improvement on every poem are made, and the poems are ranked by their effectiveness at accomplishing what it is they seem to be trying to accomplish. Your “one e-mail’s worth” comment is another attempt to manufacture your own facts; a consultation generally ends up being 20-25 pages in length. Is that how “one” of your e-mails looks, Bob? In a single semester at an MFA program (whose critiques you implicitly lauded here) you can get this kind of feedback on maybe _four or five poems_, depending upon how often you’re up for workshop. With ALC you’re getting the same level of feedback on twenty poems, and more if you want.
Likewise, your citation of “one follow-up e-mail” is just more half-cocked bunk. The website doesn’t say, anywhere, that clients get “one e-mail” in follow-up. It says, actually, Bob, that clients get _all_ their follow-up questions answered through a dialogue with the writer they’re working with, and that these questions are answered by either telephone or e-mail. It takes much more than one e-mail, usually, to conduct a follow-up with a writer.
On the portfolios, your ignorance of MFA programs and MFA applicants again manifests, and causes me no amount wonder at how you can scrape together so much indignation at people and processes you simply haven’t put any thought into understanding whatsoever. A portfolio, for a college senior (or anyone applying to an MFA) is quite simply this: the best fifteen to twenty poems they’ve ever written in their lives, in their own view. No one submits anything but what they perceive to be their best work to an MFA. Ever. It just wouldn’t make sense. So when we ask to see someone’s portfolio, and when we say we’re going to work our asses off to provide “instruction and guidance” to that writer–a part of the page you screen-captured that somehow didn’t make it into your little green high-light box, imagine–we’re saying no more and no less than, show us your very best work, and we’ll work with you on it. If we can help a writer see with fresh eyes the poems of theirs they think are the very best, we can help them advance as artists; conversely, if we’re only helping them revisit their least-considered cast-off poems, there won’t be any efficacy to the “guidance and instruction” we’re providing. Just as in an MFA program. Just as in the for-fee Sackett Street Writers’ Workshop that I’ve heard you denigra–
–oh, that’s right, I’ve never heard you denigrate Sackett Street, have I, Bob. Is that because I don’t work for them? In any case, you haven’t spent much time working with young writers–probably less time than you spent on these crappy puerile posts of yours–and you aren’t much of a poetry teacher, if you don’t think that a short amount of time spent with young writers can inspire them in the long-term. (And you must not have read much poetry by younger writers, or you’d know that their learning curve is always far steeper than more experienced writers, aiding significantly any attempts to talk to them about their evident habits and predilections). And if you believe that you can’t inspire young writers for the long-term in a short time, you must never attend poetry readings or poetry lectures, either. Or have much belief in yourself.
S.
P.S. Let’s be clear: I wasn’t threatening to hit you, Bob, for God’s sake. I was saying that as much as you present yourself as a douchebag in _this_ space, my guess is that you’re a fine guy in person. Just as most people think I am, too. So my point was that I didn’t think you’d say to my face the sort of things you’ve said here–because, after all, assholes of such scope and dimension are thankfully quite rare.
I have work to do too, which is why I’m probably going to regret saying anything more, especially (at the moment) to Seth, who apparently has a lot more time than I do to compose lengthy comments and who has become so offended that he has to resort not only to name-calling but also to dick-swinging. But, uh, even though he wasn’t talking to me, I guess “man up” can be read two ways, you butchy brutes, so here we go.
What is it precisely that offended you, Seth? Not that I really care all that much, but it seems important to point out that you entirely miss Robert’s point when you say that you “think most unpub¬lished col¬lege seniors would be happy to have their work reviewed by some¬one whose short fic¬tion has appeared in Best Amer¬i¬can Short Sto¬ries.” Sure, they’d probably be happy, but how many of them would be able to afford it? And let’s pretend that your service does work as well as you think it will: those who can’t afford and/or don’t use your service will in some way be at a disadvantage in their MFA applications. Can’t you see this? What you’re suggesting is precisely what Robert named above: the introduction of “one more cash-based barrier of entry into the writing world.”
You could shout until you’re red in the face that you’re doing this for the good of young writers and the “poetry community” (God how I hate that phrase), and you might even say also that you’re simply extending the logic of academic admissions by offering a service for poets comparable to Kaplan (that last point would even be true) but there is no way you can deny that, to quote Robert one last time, “The only dif¬fer¬ence between an ALC-polished port¬fo¬lio and a non-ALC pol¬ished port¬fo¬lio will be the money that the author of the former was will¬ing to hand over to Seth and his co-conspirators.” If your service does what you promise, it stands to reason (with or without scare quotes) that those who have $335 to shell out will be better off in the competitive world of MFA applications than those who don’t.
That, of course, is assuming that your service is worth the money, which is debatable. Either way, the point is that some of us don’t think your goals are quite as benign as you do; some of us, in other words, are offended at the very idea of the project regardless of whether it succeeds or fails.
Now that last sentence should be put in context. As I tried to clarify above, I don’t really find ALC that much more objectionable than a lot of other things in the poetry or academic world; it is simply a more conspicuous target and certainly only a symptom of a much larger set of structural and institutional problems. Clearly we disagree about that point, just as we seem to disagree about a lot of other things, perhaps not least the idea that you get to claim (irrespective of how many hours a consultation takes) that you deserver praise or at least respect for just wanting to inspire young writers even though you will be working only with writers who can pay you and, presumably, even though you will be making life more difficult—or at least MFA applications more competitive—for those who don’t.
p.s. I composed the above before your last comment, Seth. But I’m going to let it stand as is. I’m rushing out the door now, too, so this will have to be the extent of my “contribution” for a bit.
Boyd,
While you, I, and the rest of the writing community wait for Michael Robbins’ upcoming screed against elderly women in the suburbs who give piano lessons–I’ve always been enraged that their upper-crust students become better piano players!–I’ll point you to my own blog, and the Harriet blog, where I write at some length about the cost issue you’ve raised. The average MFA program costs (including tuition, room, board, transportation, books, and other living expenses) between $30,000 and $100,000 per year, i.e. between $60,000 and $300,000 total, depending on the duration of the program. Those of us who actually work with other writers rather than resorting to playground antics (cf. “Robbins Douchebag Consulting,” above, which much like the Hair Club for Men boasts a founder among its clientele) have been pushing for years–in articles online and off–for applicants to only attend programs that will fully fund them. The difference between attending a fully funded MFA and one that isn’t is (let me see here) $60,000 to $300,000. No one here, or anywhere, has to buy into the idea that working with other writers can improve your writing; that said, I’ve put my time and energy where my mouth is on that point (and my own money, too, to the tune of $15,000, as I had to continue paying non-deferable law school loans while I was at Iowa), so my advocating it now is hardly suspect. So, yes, I’m not buying the ridiculous tautology that “the only difference between a portfolio looked at by ALC and one that hasn’t been is the money” (we know it’s a tautology, Boyd, because the answer to the question, “How do we know that the only difference between a portfolio looked at by ALC and one that hasn’t been is the money?” appears to be, per this crowd, “Because the only difference between a portfolio looked at by ALC and one that hasn’t been is the money”).
The point, then, is clear: Charging $250–which is around a month’s worth of piano lessons with an octogenarian down the street–to help young writers (all of whom are college graduates with heads on their shoulders, not candy-sucking babies in prams, as Mike supposes) improve their writing and therefore have a better chance at saving between $60,000 and $300,000 in graduate school is not a “scam” or “exploitation.” Case in point: I had many students who I worked with directly when I was at Iowa, as part of my teaching duties, who were trying to get into MFA programs. The ones I counseled personally applied to and were admitted into fully-funded programs; the ones I did not invariably didn’t even know the current conventional wisdom about programs (”Don’t pay for an MFA!” which I’ve shouted from every rooftop I can find) and applied to and were admitted to almost exclusively half-funded or unfunded programs. These were some excellent writers, too. Seeing them have fewer options, and facing $50,000 or more of needless debt, was enough to convince me that $250 (for individuals paying $1,500, also, to apply to programs in the first instance) was fair.
Of course, back in the reality-based world of attorneys and doctors and regular people with jobs–not, like Michael, blog-monkeys–it’s actually _not_ fair, it’s laughably low. I’ve been an attorney for almost a decade, and I never saw an attorney do such a visible double-take as _my own attorney_ when he found out what we were charging. It changed the entire interview, as his clear conclusion seemed to be that it can only be a “labor of love” charging that little, not a business venture; it’s simply not a viable business plan, he seemed to feel, and it doesn’t actually show that we think much of our talents (i.e., in the business and legal world that’s what that sort of fee would suggest). But back in the blogosphere, holy Hell! it was the _Apocalypse_. Good grief. There aren’t many writers who’ve already committed to spend $1,500 on applications who wouldn’t also think it fair to spend $250 to improve a piece of their application which will be 95%+ of the admissions decision–not when there’s $300,000 of debt at stake, not when the benefits of improving one’s writing are long-lasting whether you do an MFA or not, and not when one believes (and the group in question, me included, believes) that an MFA is worthwhile and that poetry teachers (like piano teachers) can’t teach talent and creativity, but )_can_ have a real and abiding impact, whether they work for MFA programs or for ALC or for the [Robbins-criticism-free!] Sackett Street Writers’ Workshop. I mean, seriously, guys, go harass some painters offering painting workshops, or Gordon Lish, or guitar-players giving guitar lessons! You want to be aggrieved, I get it–you’re poets; I like to be indignant also, my blog is proof of it–but when you start smearing people you don’t know without any basis in fact you should be ashamed of yourselves.
And though it’s amazing that I have to clear this bit of verbiage up (what are you guys, like eighty?) “man up” means simply “have courage.” I’m asking you guys to have the courage to:
a) not smear people you don’t know because you don’t have to look them in the eyes while you do it;
b) not apply a different standard to poets and poetry than you would to any other art-form (or even to poets who offer private tutorials, online/live workshops, or teach students for a salary, as a great percentage of American writers do, either full- or part-time);
c) spend even a _moment_ reading up about this topic before you go off half-cocked on how everyone associated with it is a cretin. It was amazing that none of you had read the entire website, or had read any commentaries by those who’ve benefited from the service (or from the data on TSE, Bob’s original reason for despising me with such creepy obsession), or had given any thought whatsoever to the bigger financial picture of what $250 means to a young writer about to make a disastrously bad decision and go into huge debt for an MFA.
I never demanded that anyone laud my efforts, I never said I couldn’t or shouldn’t be criticized, I never–even–believed it reasonable to expect that my critics would cloak themselves in even the barest skin of integrity, but to have been called, variously, “a lecherous blight,” “a freakish asshole,” “corrupt,” “greedy,” “evil,” “a douchebag,” and a hundred other vile things by cowardly reprobates was, I’m sorry, ultimately a little too much for me. Perhaps it became _too much_ when Michael Robbins, associated with a journal I respect and admire, had so little professionalism as to call a “douchebag” and an “ass” someone who has regularly submitted to his journal (even to the point of having had work accepted in the past) with so little consideration for the facts of the case. I think it became _too much_ when the words being slung around here were landing, too, on someone like Lucas Bernhardt–an ALC Associate–who may be one of the kindest, gentlest, most caring poets I’ve ever met in my life, who’s worked for sh*t pay for years to teach and mentor younger writers (and who’ll be doing so again at ALC, given our [allegedly non-viable] fee structure). Or maybe it became _too much_ when the hundreds and hundreds of young poets I’ve worked with over the years were being implicitly slandered as dupes and idiots by people who spend all day writing snarky garbage on the internet. So yes, Mike, you’re a coward, and a bully, and those words “man up” most fitfully apply to you sir.
S.
1. I’m not Mike; Bobby’s not Bob.
2. I tried to delete my comment almost as soon as it appeared, & apologize for my intemperate language.
3. I don’t have a blog, never have, never will.
4. I “work with writers” every day. I teach poetry workshops at Columbia College.
5. I’m not associated with CR anymore. My criticism appears in the LRB, Poetry, & elsewhere; I’ve had a poem in The New Yorker with another forthcoming. If this is “spending all day writing snarky garbage on the internet,” you should advise your clients to do so as well.
6. It’s interesting that you think you’re the piano teacher in the analogy. Those of us who teach writers are the piano teachers; you’re the guy who charges them hundreds of dollars for advice on how to find a good one.
7. It’s also very interesting that you’re so taken aback at the venom directed your way. Have you thought about how what you’re doing appears to virtually everyone in the poetry community?
Also, you can go ahead & say “shit” on the internet. Man up!
Or maybe you’re referring to Poetry when you say I’m associated with a journal you respect & admire. Sorry.
Anyway, Seth, I’m sure you’re a decent guy. I’m a decent guy. But what you’re doing seems pretty creepy to me, & to a lot of other people as well.
As your comments evince no less than my own, one’s rhetoric flies furiously on the internet, in the quick of emotion (sounds like a song by Asia!), but I’m sorry I implied you were a douchebag.
Michael,
I’m sorry for the confusion over names. My father is Robert and goes by Bob, so it was force of habit, and all the Michaels I know go by Mike. But whatever, it was an error.
I’m glad you’re a teacher at Columbia College; that’s my ambition as well. But it therefore bewilders me all the more that you can’t see the relation between ALC–which is geared toward writers who have never had, or not had recently, the benefit of the services your undergrads are now getting from you pre-MFA application–especially when you charge way more for your services than we do (by a factor, if I’m guessing right, of around 80x more).
As to what you do with your days, aren’t you the same Michael Robbins from Harriet? If so, I can’t recall seeing many posts there without your name somewhere in the comment-thread, hence my confusion. Like you, I do spend time online (most of which is spent helping applicants, for the past three years–and on many matters, still–for free, unlike the salary you draw from Columbia) but I also work my butt off on my poetry and my MFA/Ph.D. studies.
You really, really–really, Michael–don’t understand what we do if you stand by your perversion of my piano teacher analogy. [Which is funny, because even under your analogy, which is I can only assume intentionally inapt, if some piano teachers were going to charge $10,000, and others were going to _pay_ you to take lessons with him/her, and little data was publicly available on which was which--as MFA programs fail to disclose funding-package differences of this degree all the time, as though they were the pennies lost behind their sofas--wouldn't you appreciate the person who helped you distinguish between the two, and wouldn't you pay less than 4% of the cost difference to that person?].
For someone who’s on the internet a lot, you must spend most of your time in some sort of echo chamber (like, e.g., _this_ echo chamber). I’ve been reading all the blogs, and this is how it breaks down, Michael:
* Among young fiction-writers: 100% support
* Among young poets: 90% support, 10% oppose
* Among older fiction-writers: 100% support
* Among older poets: 50% support, 30% don’t care, 20% oppose
* Among nonfiction writers: 80% support, 20% oppose (*)
(*) = Purely on the grounds that we don’t offer nonfiction portfolio consulting, too.
Were you really under the impression that you were in the majority here? Heck, didn’t this thread _begin_ with Ange Mlinko saying that those who find this idea appalling are in the “minority”? And isn’t the fact that you’re in the minority the very reason you’ve been shouting so loud against this?
I don’t like just slinging barbs like this… but this one I do advisedly and with consideration: either you don’t understand, whatsoever, what ALC is and does, or your failure to accept the piano teacher analogy I offered suggests some degree of significant delusion. I’m glad you feel like a hero, Michael, for working at (or associated with) one of the highest-cost, worst-funded MFA programs in the United States–exactly the sort of program I work my butt off to steer applicants _away_ from, because I consider such cost (assessed against impoverished young poets) unethical at best–but really, are you for real? Are you putting me on? You work at _Columbia College_ and I’ve had to waste my time on this conversation, worrying that maybe you actually _did_ occupy some moral high-ground I couldn’t for the life of me identify?
S.
P.S. Okay, shit then.
P.S. I hadn’t read your most recent message when I posted mine. I was serious when I said I bet you’re a fine guy; I think most people are decent people, I like most people (and doggone it, most people actually _do_ like me). If you’re sorry for calling me a douche I’m equally sorry for my equally harsh words. I want to emphasize: I’m not the fascist [I think that] Robert thinks I am; it’s not people opposing ALC that bothers me, even if I find their arguments unpersuasive, it’s the personal attacks against me, the students I work with, and the other writers I’ve associated myself with that I find intolerable. As to the rest, I was serious when I said on my blog that it’s a debate I think should be had publicly, even if–from the ALC standpoint–I believe it’s a debate where the positions I support do prevail. –S.
That was a weird comment. It started out very reasonably & then degenerated into more mud-slinging.
So, I guess I’ll go ahead & state for the record that I do not regard myself as a hero.
I don’t teach in the MFA program at Columbia, & have in general low regard for MFA programs. I teach part-time there while I pursue my doctorate at the University of Chicago, in which pursuit I too work my butt off, as I do on my poetry. So?
I have all sorts of moral failings!
This isn’t about whether I’m a saint or whether most of the academic poetry system is a scam. I’m not, it is, we’re all part of the problem. But starting a consulting firm strikes me as a pretty funny solution.
I think we’ve pretty much exhausted this exchange. I wish you well.
I too posted my last without having read yr recent. So thanks.
Of course this is a scam, though a mild an relatively inoffensive one as far as scams go. The reason I say mild and inoffensive is because - regardless of Seth & Co. making $335 a client - the top MFA programs will continue to be full of society’s privileged: those who are overtly qualified for anything and everything, though many lack any discernible “talents” in spite of their seemingly endless list of credentials. This is what we do in America (and here I single out America because I have never lived in, say, Argentina or Germany): we rubber-stamp the children of the elite classes. So Seth & Co. are only scamming those who would likely be attending these MFA programs anyway. This is, of course, a generalization - but not a gross one by any means, and one supported by facts that outnumber even the contrived credentials of the next crop of rubber-stamped “writers,” and the crop after that, etc.
So, fuck it, why should anyone pretend to lament the lost earnings of parents who are shelling out for their childrens’ success in the MFA application process? At least their money is being redistributed to starving artists who are supporting themselves while finishing novels, collections of poems, and (improbably) stories that translate the human experience to the rest of us. Or maybe they’re not starving artists, but children of the upper and upper-middle class who don’t see the sense in working a 9-5 when they can travel the country, write, deplete their local bar’s supply of whiskey and cheap beer by charging $335 on a letter of critique? Or maybe some of them are brilliant and charitable souls who are truly out to help all of the struggling, aspiring young writers they can reach, and the $335 fee is incidental, a cost to keep the grist mills turning as they fight the good fight?
Who knows, Robert? I’m quite conflicted in reading it all. I’m instinctively appalled by any marriage of art and money, though it does seem that the former cannot thrive while completely ignoring the latter. I also find comical the notion these consultants are satisfying a need rather than creating one, and then offering a solution to the created need that happens to cost $335 for what would take a sharp and savvy workshop graduate 3-4 hours of work, at the very most.
I’d bet Seth is quite intelligent, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to bet that at least a few of the other consultants are as well. Here’s the thing about intelligent people: they can rationalize in ways that make one’s head spin. Beneath all of the high-minded treatises about not paying for an MFA, and the invoking of tautological reasoning, and the bizarre back-and-forth challenging of each others’ critical thinking and integrity I read a lot of doublespeak.
I can’t imagine any sensible, thoughtful, honest person wouldn’t instantly see this “consulting firm” for what it is: a bunch of recent graduates padding their pockets through the easiest labor imaginable. There’s no way to certify or measure their “credentials,” or to chart the efficacy of their advising. The trumped up bios are deliciously cringe-worthy, and the reality of a group of people simultaneously proclaiming “we have no interest in turning creative writing into a business” while asking $335 per client is a rich one indeed, and ripe for mockery.
That being said, it’s difficult for me to understand why this small group of writers (who probably would’ve seemed less like unscrupulous hucksters in this endeavor had they done individual freelancing for more reasonable rates rather than trading on the workshop name to start a full-fledged business) deserves any more condemnation than summer writing camps, storefront writing workshops, or MFA programs themselves. Indeed, alc seems a logical extension of the MFA, and I half-applaud (which isn’t meant to signify the sound of one hand clapping) them for making the money directly instead of working long hours over the summer to provide even more services while getting a lesser cut.
I’m rambling now. My overall point is that this is in no way the noble pursuit that Seth, with serious indignation (in this comment section at least) appears to have convinced himself it is; on the other hand, it’s a more complicated issue than Robert interprets it as, and not nearly as malicious as he presents it.
Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t salute Abramson, Leslie, and cohort for this absolute jewel nestled in the “contact us” section: “any unresolved issues may be referred to customer service.” That’s fucking genius! If, somehow, Deb is getting a cut of that $335 to pose as customer service, you’ve won me over. Also, this sheer anticipatory brilliance in the face of public incredulity: “You have questions; that’s understandable.”
Onward workshop soldiers, onward.
Be well.
S.
Thanks for the comment, IWWG, but I am, per my earlier comment, staying out of this discussion from there on out.
I’ll just add three, no four, quick housekeeping notes:
1/ Everyone should feel free to call me Bobby. I publish under “Robert P.” because it was also my grandfather’s name, but Bobby is what I answer to.
2/ If you haven’t left a comment here before, I’ll have to approve yours before it appears. I try to do this as regularly as I can, but I don’t live my life in front of my computer. (And neither should you!)
3/ Fruitful as it may be for this debate to appear in public, I’m afraid I have to report that this page, alone among all the pages on DE, has disappeared from Google’s search index. I was alerted to this fact by someone this morning and just checked it out. Sure enough. It’s very mysterious. I’m writing to Google to see what happened, but for now it seemed only fair to warn you all that you are, as literally as possible in a virtual world, shouting into the void. Godspeed.
4/ And finally, this isn’t exactly staying out of it, but this is important to me, so: I would like to state for the record that I don’t call people fascists lightly, and I’ve certainly never used that word for Seth or anyone else around here. I think the worst epithet I’ve used has been “crony,” which, given the slings and arrows above, is pretty tame.
IWWG,
I fail to see which of your disingenuous and poorly-researched assertions could not have been made from outside the weak-kneed cover of a pseudonym.
A lesson for you (and for free): If you want to join in a conversation and be _heard_, you can’t be such a wilting lily as to be afraid to use the name your parents gave you.
How proud could you _possibly_ be of any of your ideas here–how firmly could you possibly be thought to stand behind anything you’ve said–when you won’t even identify yourself? Hopefully your lack of courage is only in such clear relief when nothing whatsoever is at stake–e.g., when you’re in an online discussion about something you don’t understand and have given no serious thought to–and when the chips are _really_ down, when friends and family and others are really counting on you, you step up courageously.
Somehow I doubt it, though.
S.
“I fail to see which of your disingenuous and poorly-researched assertions could not have been made from outside the weak-kneed cover of a pseudonym.”
All of that just to say: “I wish you’d used your name.” My letter of critique to you would begin with “overwrought and melodramatic.” A joke, a joke. Because you’re doing the business, and… you see… critique… please don’t ip trace and kill me.
“A lesson for you (and for free):”
I get it Seth, I get it. You’ve snatched my punchline from me: I should be thankful you’re not charging $335. I wasn’t even going to sink that low. The critique thing was my only halfhearted zinger.
“If you want to join in a conversation and be _heard_, you can’t be such a wilting lily as to be afraid to use the name your parents gave you. ”
Wilting lily? Oh, you wicked, wicked baiter! You goad me! But wait… I did join the conversation under a pseudonym, and I was heard/read. So your lesson isn’t even worthwhile at the low, low price of free. You cheat me, Seth. Your brand suffers in the wake of this pipe dream of a lesson you sold.
“How proud could you _possibly_ be of any of your ideas here–how firmly could you possibly be thought to stand behind anything you’ve said–when you won’t even identify yourself?”
Not particularly proud, dude. Downright ashamed, in fact, that I deigned to toss a comment on this blog in regard to your consulting firm. I’m pretty sure my comment was rife with typos, and this one might be as well. I don’t proofread; I’d make an awful hire for your firm. In all candor, at this point I’m even a bit afraid, as I - the very picture of timidity - have apparently incurred the wrath of the online “Braveheart.” Perhaps we’ll meet one day and I (should I overcome the instinctual cowardice that has plagued me my entire life, and disgraced my family) will summon the courage to say to you, “hey, Seth, I posted a comment on a blog about your consulting firm. I noticed some of the stranger, funnier bits on your site and I chuckled a bit. I saw your heated exchanges with Bobby and thought you might be a bit cuckoo. All in all I thought $335 for a comprehensive critique was a hell of a racket. Please don’t strike me, whether with word, clenched fist, handfuls of consultant cash, or warped notions of online honor.”
Until that day, my friend, my place is in the shadows.
“Hopefully your lack of courage is only in such clear relief when nothing whatsoever is at stake–e.g., when you’re in an online discussion about something you don’t understand and have given no serious thought to–and when the chips are _really_ down, when friends and family and others are really counting on you, you step up courageously.”
Sounds curiously like a bit of monologue Pacino might’ve delivered in any of the generic, mediocre films he gave himself over to during his later years. To abuse a stale, trite rejoinder, “is it that serious?” Apparently!
“Somehow I doubt it, though.”
Zing! You win this round Abramson. But I’ll have my day yet, on some other blog in the future!
*does pseudonymous macarena butt naked while fiendishly rereading your “Contact Us” and “FAQ” sections*
MWUHAHAHAHA
Some points to begin: 1) I’m stepping away from this debate, despite its attractive, sickly-sweet mix of snottiness, good humor, and utmost sincerity, because I don’t have time to commit to it now. 2) I took Seth’s addressing Bobby as “Bob,” as an instance of name-calling; I don’t know Robert, but I’ve seen him sign his name “Bobby” and I assumed Seth had too. 3) Seth, “man up” is not synonymous with “have courage,” and you know it. But I guess it is no worse (it might be better) than douchebag. I’ve never met any of you, but, if and when I do, I’d probably be relieved if it turns out that you’re wearing either leather chaps or a dress.
As for the comment of Seth’s in which he responded to me, I will say, first, that I have no doubt that you believe, Seth, that you will be saving young undergrads money. But so what? You will be saving them money only if they have money to spend, which is not, as I hope you can see, a win-win situation. There really are young writers out there who are applying to MFA programs, lots of them, hard as it may be to believe, who don’t have an extra $335 to spare. Second, of course the statement I quoted is, at some level, a tautology, just as it is a tautology to say that what separates a crappy car and a new Mercedes is just thousands of dollars. I have no doubt that you think that ALC will actually improve not only the portfolios of young writers but also their “skill sets,” and that may even turn out to be true, just as it is also true that the Mercedes is significantly better than the crappy car. But the point is this: in the instance I invoked it, the tautology actually has force: what you’re suggesting is a service that, at best, can only make MFA applications even (if ever so slightly) more class-based than they already are.
I’ve been trying to suggest that we put this all in perspective, however, and understand that ALC is simply a symptom of a larger set of problems. I’m against what you’re doing (and, yeah, I think the language you use on your website is a little pretentious too), but I’m not going to wage a campaign against you or anything, and I’m by no means suggesting you’re a bad person. I’m very much aware how class-based higher education already is in this country, and I’m far more against the institutional conditions that make what you’re doing possible (and, in some sense, necessary) in the first place (leaving aside, for the moment, the question of whether MFA programs should even exist). It seems, as I noted above, we disagree about that, and I don’t think we’re going to come to common ground in this thread anytime soon, even though I’m quite certain that one of us is wrong. But so what? It turns out that Bobby and I disagree about a lot too (and he even misconstrued our disagreement in his—nonetheless generous—comment above: I don’t understand why being against privilege and the things I named means that, implicitly, I can’t also believe that “some art is better than others, just…some artists are better than others.”) So it goes. There is clearly a lot at stake here, on one hand, and, on the other—no one needs to be reminded, least of all IWWG—not much at all.
I guess my first point above about stepping away from the debate was destined to be ironic in a triple sense, first because it seems the debate (at least here) was over anyway, second because I ended up spending the morning doing just what I didn’t want to do—reading blog conversations about ALC, reading ALC’s website very closely, and reading (some of? most of?) the thousands of words Seth has spilled in various venues in defense of his project—and, third, it probably goes without saying, because I’m now composing this comment. So one final thing for the record: in view of what I’ve read, I feel compelled (even with my earlier qualifications in mind) to underscore more strongly my opposition to this silly little “firm.” And I feel just a twinge of regret about implying that there was some sort of equivalence between my disagreements above with Bobby and my disagreements with Seth; the latter, I am certain, runs very deep indeed. I wish Seth and his co-workers only the best personally, but I think ALC deserves all the scorn and derision it has received and then some. To cap off my own sickly-sweetness, then, let me say to all aspiring scribblers: if you’re ever really given the choice between contributing to the so-called poetry community—which community, whether singular or plural, cannot apparently be defined by (and is actually supposed to be prior to) propinquity, ideology, or even, surely, class— and burning it down, just man up!
Boyd,
I can’t even imagine how you read all the testimonials from young writers about TSE and ALC, my description of how ALC is helping to save applicants tens of thousands of dollars at non-fully-funded programs, depictions of the sort of chaos that existed in the MFA applicant community prior to TSE and ALC and the MFA Blog, and longer recitations of how the MFA can–over time–be morphed into a fully-funded artists’ colony, and not a locus for aesthetics-shaping, and somehow came to the conclusion that ALC deserves more scorn and bile than you ever previously imagined. Every single piece of opposition to ALC has been addressed directly and candidly, and unless you still suffer from among the most basic of delusions (one poor young man on the MFA Blog didn’t know the difference between “feedback” and “rewriting,” and assumed that ALC, or anyone, was “rewriting” portfolios) I can’t possibly imagine what you’re on about now.
As an aside: I’m still bemused by the claim that “man up” _doesn’t_ mean “have courage.” When you Google the phrase “man up means,” you get, variously:
* “toughen up”
* “fulfill your responsibilities”
* “step up”
* “don’t seek the easy way out of things”
* “stop whining about your problems and do something about them”
* “do the right thing”
In Boston we had a saying, originated by Boston Red Sox first baseman Kevin Millar, “cowboy up.” It meant basically the same thing, and the unifying principle was courage. But whatever; it’s never been my custom to engage in “dick-swinging” online or off–as someone accused me of doing–so if me using slang to say “have courage” offended anyone, I’m sorry.
S.
P.S. I think what annoys me the most is that no one yet has had the “courage” to differentiate ALC from the sort of private tutorials, workshops, and online/”live” courses poets have been offering students for decades with comment or censure from their peers. Or, for that matter, Columbia College–which has an MFA program (that Robert doesn’t work for, he hastens to add, he merely does the same work with undergrads!)–which charges tens of thousands of dollars to young writers, without any financial aid whatsoever, to get probably _less_ one-on-one workshop-like feedback per semester than is offered by ALC. Are you really telling me, Boyd, that you’re swayed by the only distinction ever drawn (on any blog) between all of these precedents and ALC, which (via Robert) is that ALC _doesn’t_ actually do what it clearly says on its website it does–i.e., the baseless allegation that _all_ we do is “help people find schools” rather than provide workshop feedback just like MFAs, tutorials, non-MFA workshops, and online/”live” courses do? Or like undergrad profs like Robert do? Most of our clients come to us because they _haven’t_ had the _wildly expensive_ benefits that Robert’s students have: substantial college courses in poetry, chic private workshops like Sackett Street (which, again, no one will criticize, however they feel about ALC!), and so on. It is absolutely stunning to me that you feel no outrage whatsoever over us serving folks–for a pittance, especially compared to the cost of MFA applications and the much greater cost of not getting into a funded MFA–who haven’t had the cost-intensive services offered by poets throughout history without even a scintilla of disapproval from _you_.
S.
Look, Seth, I stepped back in merely to clarify my position because I was unhappy with what I had written after I had (somewhat foolishly I might add) spent the morning reading through the things I mentioned. I didn’t mean to imply that, because I wasted my morning, I’m now prepared to waste my evening, nor did I mean to say that, suddenly, a lot more free time has suddenly opened up for me in the coming week. So I’m (sincerely) sorry this will have to be short.
Clearly, Seth, I’m not “swayed by the only distinction ever drawn…” etc. (Do I really have to explain this?) And I have implicitly criticized places like Sackett Street and MFA programs like Columbia College because, as I clarified (did you read a word I wrote?), “I’m far more against the institutional conditions that make what you’re doing possible” than I am against ALC. Do you want me to criticize Sackett Street more explicitly? (Which would be weird since you don’t seem concerned about figuring out what my position really is beyond my opposition to ALC.) But just to be fair anyway: I think Sackett Street deserves derision and scorn too! I think a lot of things—many of them quite reputable—deserve derision and scorn. Maybe you could take a look at the above more closely? I at least wasted a morning on many more of your words, after all.
And, finally, (I mean it) I don’t care what silly online usage you’re citing, I know (and I hope you know) that “man up” implies a lot more than just “have courage.” But since we’re turning to the stupid-box to settle our disputes over meaning, here is what I discovered on Urban Dictionary after googling:
1. Man Up
Don’t be a pussy, brave it, be daring.
“Hey man, finish this bowl.”
“No dude, I’m baked as it is.”
“Come on pussy, man up.”
2. man up
to fulfill your responsibilites as a man, despite your insecurities and constant ability to place yourself in embarrasing and un-manly scenarios.
Paul forcefully imposed the bet on everyone, yet he was the first to fail miserably on the very challenge he had conjured up.
Paul must now man up and meet his own challenge
3.. Man Up
Be strong
Take control, take control of a (the) situation, be strong, rise to the moment
4. man up
strap on a pair, grow some balls, stop being such a complete and utter wuss.
“I can’t.. believe.. she dumped me.. again! This is awful. I’ve been crying so much.”
“Jeeeez. Man up!”
I’m done here, but I am sorta curious as to how any of the above is supposed to help your case.
Oh God, now look what I’ve done. And so suddenly! I guess now I have to finish the rest of the bowl.
p.s. Before I’m out the door, I will make one final clarification, Seth. Your following claim, I hope you can (but don’t expect you to) see, merely reiterates but does nothing even to recognize or gauge the distance between our positions: “Every single piece of opposition to ALC has been addressed directly and candidly, and unless you still suffer from among the most basic of delusions (one poor young man on the MFA Blog didn’t know the difference between “feedback” and “rewriting,” and assumed that ALC, or anyone, was “rewriting” portfolios) I can’t possibly imagine what you’re on about now.”
It astonishes me far more than your citations of online usages of “man up” ever could. I think I’ve answered you quite fully.
Be well.
Boyd,
You should re-read your own comments in this thread (all of which I’ve read, BTW). You _started out_ saying that ALC was “only” (my quotes) as corrosive as MFAs and private workshops and so on, but you _immediately_ back-pedaled from that position when it was clear it would find no favor among your friends here. E.g., in your second substantial message you write (to Robert), “while you’re right that ALC is different from those things I mentioned (perhaps not least because teaching and writing allow for an actual contribution to scholarship and literature)…” Having clarified that what Robert does (teaching at Columbia College) contributes to literature, and constitutes “teaching,” and that ALC does something categorically different, you go on to say that you still “on some level” have problems with other institutions in the writing world (like MFAs). Granted, having repeated the mild-mannered phrase “on some level” more than once (which phrase hardly indicates significant opposition, Boyd) you do then complicate the issue by saying that certain structures in poetry _are_ “far more insidious” than ALC. What are they? You don’t say, and don’t attribute that claim to yourself but to others. So it’s unclear where you place ALC in that spectrum of things you find (perhaps only “on some level”) objectionable.
Any confusion on this score was wiped out, however, by your comment–and it’s the one I’ve been responding to my past couple posts–saying the following: “In view of what I’ve read [about ALC on the blogs and on the ALC website], I feel compelled (even with my earlier qualifications in mind) to underscore more strongly my opposition to this silly little ‘firm.’ And I feel just a twinge of regret about implying that there was some sort of equivalence between my disagreements above with Bobby and my disagreements with Seth; the latter, I am certain, runs very deep indeed…. I think ALC deserves all the scorn and derision it has received and then some.”
This clarifies that, indeed, ALC is far worse–and in no way _like_–all those other structures you opposed. And yet, this crucial self-correction on your part, while seeking the gravitas of “in view of what I’ve read” (as if to say, “I’m now fully-educated on what ALC does”) does absolutely nothing to explain why, now, suddenly, when Robert has said he disagrees with you, you come out and say that ALC isn’t (as before you’d only intimated) in any way connected with teaching or literature and thus “deserves all the scorn and derision it has received and then some.” And having read as much as you say you have, you’d know that the level of “scorn and derision” that’s out there _now_ is calling me a “lecherous blight” and a “sleazy internet presence” and a “corrupt, evil, greedy” person who “scams” young people. But _no_! As you’ve explained to us now, Boyd, that’s _not enough_ scorn and derision! More is needed! And yet…
…and yet, if someone asked me how you distinguish ALC from all those other institutions you’ve now retreated (because of Robert) from heaping _any_ scorn or derision on whatsoever, I’d have no idea whatsoever.
Is this where I say “man up”? Or would you prefer I say, “Screw your courage to the sticking-place, Boyd!” like Gaston in Beauty & The Beast?
S.
P.S. I can appreciate time-restraints. I’m trying to respond to what you’re saying. I don’t feel I’m being obtuse or merely argumentative. But if you’ve no time to continue the discussion I understand. And certainly, we each _individually_ feel we’ve made our own points clearly. Be well. –S.
This must stop. Two points, then I’m out of here.
1. Bobby doesn’t teach at Columbia College, I do. Not sure why I should apologize for that or what it has to do with my criticism of a consulting firm designed to help those with money get into MFA programs. When I entered my MFA program (I’m not proud of it), I had to borrow money for bus fare from Colorado, since I couldn’t even afford a plane ticket. I had to borrow money for my first month’s rent, since my fellowship didn’t kick in until the school year started. Obviously I was privileged enough to receive a fellowship, so couldn’t complain, but I sure as shit couldn’t have afforded a consulting firm—even had I been able to, I’m sure I would’ve had the courage (or pride) to refuse.
2. The point obviously is not confusion about what “man up” means! It’s that we can’t believe you’re actually using such stupid, stupid, stupendously stupid schoolyard slang. I don’t believe that “courage” is the exclusive property of heterosexual men. And I don’t believe in talking like a bouncer at a frat bar. And I don’t believe in insinuating that I’d prefer to settle my disagreements with a good bout of fisticuffs.
Nor, btw, did I “hasten to add” that I don’t teach in the MFA program. I just corrected yr assumption. If you can’t see the difference between teaching & what you’re doing, then we simply have nothing to talk about. Now go ahead & scream at us some more.
Michael,
The Columbia College thing was a mix-up; I’m exasperated with the length of this conversation, as you are, though I’ve contributed to it without question, as you have, so I think both of us can be forgiven for mixing a few things up along the way. I didn’t say you had to apologize for teaching at Columbia College; I said that the MFA program at your university is for rich kids–period, end of story, that’s a fact. ALC charging $250 for a poetry consult _by definition_ couldn’t possibly be just for rich kids, as the MFA application process _to begin with_ costs anyone–anyone, whatever their economic resources–$1,000+ to go through. So it’s inane to imply (as you do) that _anyone_ can apply to an MFA program (and have $1,000 in hand to do so, by definition), but that only rich kids can pay $250 _more_ to have a leg up on a) not having to spend another $1,000 the following year, and b) saving $30,000 to $300,000 by getting into a funded program rather than a money-trap like your Columbia College. In contrast, _by definition_ both the undergrads you’re teaching and the MFA students at Columbia College are paying through the teeth for your services as a teacher, which are analogous (as to poetry portfolios, which I’ve clearly said already) to the services ALC provides. Poor kids can’t end up in your class, Michael, and you know that. I’m not asking for you to “apologize” for that, but your continued ability to pretend circumstances are otherwise is grating and disingenuous.
As to your personal application story: respectfully, give me a break. I was _rolling pennies_ for lunch money at the time that I applied to an MFA program, in large part because–like you–I had spent hundreds of dollars, my last hundreds, on MFA applications (you make it sound like the money for you to apply to MFA programs in the first place just magically appeared, and that $250 for ALC would have been the _first_ $250 you had to pay for the application process; that’s nonsense). But in any case, when you and I were applying to MFA programs, Michael, we didn’t know that the acceptance rates were less than 3% at the top programs–and in fact, they probably _weren’t_ that low. Which means that you and I _both_ got lucky that we somehow applied to enough schools, and the right schools, to get in (and to cut you off at the pass: none of this “I got in solely because I was talented, neither luck nor right place/right time played a part” nonsense, because it’s a low-odds, subjective process, MFA admissions and I’ve seen plenty of talented writers not get in the first time around, and have to spill $1,000+ the following year, because they didn’t apply to the right [or enough] schools). Case-in-point: Had my girlfriend back in 2007 applied to all the schools she applied to _minus Cornell_, she wouldn’t have gotten in anywhere and would have had to pay $1,000+ the next year to apply. But guess what? She now attends the toughest MFA to get into in the United States. That’s the reality of how these things go, not your stylized version (carefully crafted to make ALC look like the man Oliver Twist begs for crumbs from).
The saddest thing in this thread–and this is a sad thread indeed–is you implication that I am _homophobic_ or _sexist_ for using a tongue-in-cheek bit of slang I hear all the time. Jesus, do you get out much? My first month as a public defender, a female colleague who was disagreeing with me on strategy for dealing with recalcitrant prosecutors during plea negotiations leaned over the conference table during our weekly case-conferencing and said to me, squeezing her fist in front of my face, “Have some fucking _balls_, Abramson!” I laughed my ass off, I thought it was funny. Saying “man up” to you has nothing to do with gender or sexuality, and frankly had _nothing whatsoever_ to do with violence (which I made quite clear to you earlier, Michael). It was slang, and slang is hardly to be taken seriously. Just as your initial contribution to this thread–
“In a related development, I have just opened Robbins Douchebag Consulting, which is the first ever consulting firm designed exclusively for graduates of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop who are hellbent on making complete asses out of themselves”
–sounded to me, then and now, like stupid, stupid schoolyard nonsense, and definitely set the tone for this discussion, but fine, that was your call.
I didn’t say that ALC and teaching are synonymous; what I’ve indicated, and this is a fact, is that when you sit down with your undergrads one-on-one because they want you to look at their best poems, and you _know_ those best poems are going to end up in an MFA portfolio, and you give feedback, you are doing _exactly_ what ALC does–for a much higher cost–and you _know it_.
Now go ahead and bullshit us some more, Michael.
S.
No, I know nothing of the kind, nor, obviously, do any of the other contributors to this thread or the several others I’ve read that are as disgusted by ALC as we are.
I don’t know what “discussion” you’re referring to, but when I wrote my silly joke, you weren’t involved & we weren’t “discussing.” You started out sounding like someone seeking to intimidate others in a bar fight, which on the internet always comes across as pathetic. You still sound as if you just can’t quite keep yourself from throwing your computer across the room, which I find fairly strange.
But we’ll see how far your little venture takes you. If you want the last word, you’re welcome to it, because I’ve had enough of this, & you.
You know, actually, don’t waste your time. I really don’t give a good goddamn what any of you think. I said my piece.
Amazing that I let myself get sucked into this nonsense.
S.
“I really don’t give a good goddamn what any of you think. I said my piece.”
You’ve finally typed something honest. Kudos.
“…and yet, if someone asked me how you distinguish ALC from all those other institutions you’ve now retreated (because of Robert) from heaping _any_ scorn or derision on whatsoever, I’d have no idea whatsoever.”
The above (from which this quote is taken) surely counts as one of the stupidest summaries I’ve ever read, since it is just so wrong so many times and in so many ways. I never, for instance, retreated from heaping any scorn or derision on “all those other institutions” and I certainly didn’t do anything of the sort because of Robert. Bobby and I disagreed about something; presumably we still disagree. I never “back-pedaled from that position when it was clear it would find no favor among [my] friends [huh?] here.” And Seth knows it. (Doesn’t he?) Come on, Seth, keep reading beyond the part you quote: “while you’re right that ALC is different from those things I mentioned (perhaps not least because teaching and writing allow for an actual contribution to scholarship and literature)…”
Allow me to help you (though nothing could be more tedious than having to quote one’s own words):
i.e “…my point is just that at some level I see those activities in their present form as objectionable too, which is to say that at some level I wish those jobs didn’t exist because I wish the systems of privilege that enable them didn’t exist. And I have met lots of people who would bristle at the idea of ALC but who don’t give a damn about poetry’s far more insidious, if attenuated and mystified, relationship to ‘business’ elsewhere, etc. So be it: a topic separate from the one at hand…”
Voila!
If my “at some level” wasn’t courageous enough for you, then let’s remove it. I wish those jobs didn’t exist because I wish the systems of privilege that enable them didn’t exist.
I understand all too well the wisdom of IWWG’s last comment, and I’m finally done—God willing—but let me clarify, Seth, that there is no inconsistency whatsoever in my joining others to oppose your petty little “firm” just because I disagree with them about the insidiousness of current social relations. I first said something in this thread merely to suggest that we shouldn’t confuse the end of ALC with the end of institutional conditions that make ALC possible, but I’m more than happy to call for the end of ALC. Let it be an object of open ridicule.
Boyd, you’ve made a slew of sensible, salient points - many of which you’ve made multiple times when no need for clarification existed for anyone but Seth.
While I stand by my assertion that this stinky piece of goofiness is hardly offensive enough to deserve scrutiny in light of the larger muck in which it’s situated, I’ve found it entertaining to return to this blog just to observe the ultra-courageous MFA martyr’s indefatigable, disputatious, and (in his mind) incontrovertible rationalizing. For comedic value, the most rewarding was reading the process through which he arrived at the conclusion that a salaried teacher was providing the same service as alc… for a much higher price to boot! *scooby doo confused sound*
It’s hardly noteworthy when someone devises a racket. What makes this sort of thing special is when someone wants to claim not only profit, but the moral high ground as well. It’s tantamount to someone pissing in a neighborhood bed of flowers, and, upon receiving both quizzical and skeptical looks, huffily demanding that people acknowledge the superior fertilizer with which he has nourished the local plant life. It’s wonderfully amusing though ultimately disturbing stuff.
I’m beginning to think Seth is actually Sam Vaknin, the internet’s premiere loony-tunes narcissist. I duck from online conversations that involve the acronym “NPD”, even if you’re really talking about German political parties, because Sam assumes you mean “Narcissistic Personality Disorder”. And invariably he shows up to tell you about narcissism and how madly narcissistic he is.
The only nice thing about all this is that it’s clear confirmation that Seth is nuts, which is good, because he’s a poet and should be nuts. I’d wondered what in hell he was doing all that time with the MFA blog nonsense, but he’s clearly gone off the deep end here, and that seems suitable to me.
I Googled “Seth Abramson Leslie” to find more information on the consulting business Seth mentions in his blog - with interest of using it. And I found this.
This is a terrible way to represent a business! All this dribbling back and forth! Doesn’t it just come down to egos anyway?
Afterall, for whatever reason, no one else has thought of this service or is doing it! To me, that is enough to shut people up.
I still do believe that ALC services are valuable and will really help a lot of people. And anyone who thought that to begin with, would never read this and think otherwise. (Even if there were good points in here, it was blanketed in revenge and retaliation.)
Why then, risk the integrity of the business by participating in this grade school shouting match? Why did you feel - as a business owner - you had to redeem yourself when you know (from the statistics that you posted) that writers - the people who matter most to your business - think ALC is a great idea!
I understand you do not like being attacked, nor would I or anyone I know. But I imagine you put a lot of work into ALC and the reputation should not be tarnished or compromised by a fight as unncessary as this.
Please keep the community of writers confident that you are a great person to work with, and do not fall victim to these cyber-bullies!
Seth as a victim of cyberbullying above: right. Good to know though that this conversation comes up when you google ALC. Funny the kinds of things you find on Google. (That last, by the way, looks like a pretty good business too).
And Seth, if you’re out there, I’m just being playful, and, again, I sincerely wish you and your coworkers only the best personally. And it wouldn’t even surprise me if your firm goes on to be highly regarded by many. I kinda doubt that the integrity of ALC was jeopardized by “unnecessary” (!) disagreement here—although, who knows, it might turn out that Jasmine has a point about the reputation thing, cyberbullies or no.
>>Afterall, for whatever reason, no one else has thought of this service or is doing it! To me, that is enough to shut people up. I still do believe that ALC services are valuable and will really help a lot of people. And anyone who thought that to begin with, would never read this and think otherwise.
Now that is the sort of ironclad logic I’d expect from someone willing to pay someone else to advise them on how to apply to MFA programs.
I mean, hey, I just thought of a service no one else “has thought of or is doing” (maybe a writing program is not the best place for some people)—I will charge people for advice on how to shop for paint. As a side project, I will charge them for advice on how to watch paint dry. That ought to be enough to shut up the naysayers!
Michael,
Sorry to say there are already plenty paint-shop teachers and paint-shop classes.
ugh
http://thebestamericanpoetry.typepad.com/the_best_american_poetry/2009/10/poets-and-writers-wtf.html
Ms. Harwood forgot to mention (as did P&W, surprise!) that Abramson’s financial stake in placing applicants in MFA programs makes him obviously the best person to compile rankings of MFA programs. What a crock.
woman down, everybody, woman down!
Embrace me, ye admirers of self-generating parody, for I come bearing comedic gifts:
* On Seth’s ALC blog he typed (in earnest!) that the publication of his rankings were an event of historical significance.
* In a “mailbag” someone asked him why he chose to pursue his PhD at Wisconsin, when it didn’t chart on his own list of creative writing PhD programs. Seth began his response by acknowledging that the query was “literally the question of the century.” This is bulletproof self-parody, an innovative tactic of self-defense that says “you can’t lampoon me if I beat you to it.” The fucker is always a step ahead!
* http://uwcreativewriting.blogspot.com/2009/09/good-news_16.html
Apparently Seth has taken the reins of U. Wisconsin’s creative writing blog, as a “project assistant.” Note that in this relatively recent update, his blurb is as long as Lorrie Moore’s. Now note that he’s not a member or alum of the MFA program, not a faculty member, but a PhD student who is serving as “project assistant.” Finally, note that Lorrie Moore is… fucking LORRIE MOORE! (I’m doing the most maniacal running man you’ve ever seen right now. Seth inspires a peculiar madness in me, like an alien-created neurological virus. Or like Mad Cow crossed with MF Doom with an insipid viral video sprinkled in for extra oomph.)
If you’ve ever seen the worthwhile documentary “King of Kong,” you might agree with me that in terms of caricature, Seth bears an eerie resemblance to Billy Mitchell. Just as Mitchell was declared “gamer of the century,” Seth seems hellbent on being “blogger of the century,” “poet of the century,” and “foremost authority (on whatever) of the century.” God help whatever version of Steve Wiebe surfaces to challenge his sacred high scores.
(If you haven’t yet, watch this movie! The secrets of the universe are in there!)
My dear, fellow citizens: we are witnessing transparent megalomania and power-grabbing of a unique sort. Absorb it, hold it tight, and marvel!
(backwards running man with kick-step out of this thread)
IWWG, you left out the best part! From the blog you linked to:
Conflict of whaa?!?
I guess my fundamental take on the topic of this scarlet thread is this :
1) art - poetry - reaches people in an immediate way.
2) how this happens is mysterious, & impossible - literally, logically, scientifically, philosophically - to grasp (it is immediate).
3) therefore, the connection between teaching the craft of writing, and writing itself, is fundamentally indirect & subject to chance.
4) of which the corollary is : the MFA industry, & the various parasitical phenomena (ie. Seth’s biz), have a life of their own, which probably makes many people happy, & possibly leads to insight about poetry, but which has a basically tangential & amorphous & etc. relation to poetry itself.
I dislike the metaphors about piano teachers. I took piano lessons from age 5 to age 14. I had a crush on my teacher, Mrs. Elledge, who lived a few blocks away (we lived in the “Mendelssohn” neighborhood, in Hopkins, Minnesota, which was founded by some pioneer farmer-musicians, from the newly-founded MN Orchestra). I think she may have had something of a crush on me, too.
I’ve never taken an MFA course, & I have no credentials whatsoever. I seriously doubt that this matters, in the long run. Here’s a part of a poem which reflects on my piano lesson experience :
from “India Point”
9
Bands of muffled sunlight over the water
above low gray cloud banks. The bay is
wintry today. The old man you see,
patched in ragged bundles, tottering
like Orpheus taking baby steps (she let go
her hand) looking for the key perhaps,
back to the womb (as he is, lapsed
from world-lap). Orpheus the hobo.
Autumn brings on the cold distances.
His vagrancy resembles a jumbled
freedom, aimless, trembling
since her touch withdrew. Since
then, a little touched. Head-wounded,
light-touched, sounded, he sounds.
*
Ripple of finger-water over the keys
long ago in Mendelssohn (pianissimo).
Quadrilateral structure fanning from
your palm, a fugitive touchstone
unfurls through lightweight bone :
light-weighted simultaneous drum-
ming above chambered metronome
and spiral nautilus make homespun
harmony. Time comes undone
as prodigal Hand begins to roam
and quiver like Northern light some
motionless afternoon, near the drone
of the river (where you tossed a stone
from shore deep into Hobo Kingdom).
AWP weighs in on seth’s rankings: http://www.awpwriter.org/magazine/MBResponse.htm