As a first year university Grad student, I had a choice to make. I qualified for both avenues in the English department; the MA, (Masters of Art) as well as the MFA, (Master of Fine Arts) degree. It was up to me to decide which way to go. So I had to ask myself; did I really want to spend the next two plus years buried up to my eyeballs in the library’s dungeon-like cubicles, researching and writing about what others who came before me wrote, and who some in the industry affectionately call those “dead white guys.” Or, did I want to try and flex my own, original and budding creative writing talents, and maybe even become one of their contemporaries in the process, putting my own work out there for others to read and enjoy?

The answer didn’t come easily. As everyone in academia knows, the MA seems…