Poets & Writers Magazine

Compelled to write from a young age, I rarely thought about how to do so. I felt I must, and so I did, an eager storyteller oblivious to the possibility of needing an education in what she loved. Decades later, while reading the novel of a brilliant new author, I worried I had missed a trick. The finesse with which that writer had blended genres, paired with a narrative restraint, made me wonder if I’d played it too safe in my storytelling.

brenda Lin reads from her essay collection Unraveling Threads: Essays on Inheritance, published by Mad Creek Books in August 2026.

Our ninth annual look at the authors of some of the year’s best debut nonfiction features insightful stories of innovative, bold, and capacious memoirs, essay collections, and hybrid works. Nita Noveno describes finding her context as a writer, teacher, and daughter of immigrants. Phill Branch details his journey from writing as an escape to writing as a form of honoring one’s most authentic self.

You don’t need an academic degree to be a writer, but there are reasons you might want one. If you are thinking about an MFA, there is a lot of information out there—often contradictory and overwhelming. To know what is right for you, you need clear, direct information about what kinds of MFAs are available, what they can offer you, how to apply, and where to find out more about individual programs. This guide is meant to empower you in your writing education. What is an MFA?

When a young composer named Jake Runestad invited me out for coffee in 2011, neither of us could have foreseen that the relationship would lead to many years of collaborations, premieres at the Kennedy Center and Carnegie Hall, a regional Emmy, and Grammy nominations. An affable guy with an easy smile, Runestad paid for our coffees and soon got down to business: He was looking for a librettist. (Classical musicians use a lot of Italian terms.

Writing takes courage. When we begin new projects or plow through challenging sections of manuscripts-in-progress, we encounter just how scary writing can be. Sometimes this realization comes from the fear of exposure. Putting words on the page for others to read can cause feelings of vulnerability despite the elation we might experience from publication or publicly reading our work aloud. Even before we share what we write, we shrink from the voice of our inner critic speaking loudly in our heads.

subscribe by From the September/October 2026 issue of Poets & Writers Magazine Writing, by definition, is solitary work. But the writing life does not have to be solitary. It is in writers groups, in community with others, that I have learned to be a writer and a literary citizen. I don’t have an MFA, and at fifty-three it’s unlikely that I ever will. I have had to find other ways to make my writing life sustainable and enriching.

Haunted houses are often depicted as decrepit manses with crumbling Victorian architecture, sitting on top of hills, surrounded by creepy dark woods, isolated from civilization.

In 2017, after ten years of being a literary agent, I turned the tables and sent out a query letter to other agents about a picture book I wrote called Bright Lights, Big Kitty. Turns out, querying is just as nerve-racking as writers say! Years later I looked at that letter again as I gathered ideas for what would become my first book for adults, Write Through It: An Insider’s Guide to Publishing and the Creative Life (Simon Element, 2025), and couldn’t believe what I had sent out.

My creative writing students ask me how I managed the leap from a day job to life as a full-time writer. Despite my MFA degree and a slew of publication credits in literary journals, no enchanted formula granted me immediate entrée into a sustainable literary career. Talent is not enough. Commitment and diligence, while imperative, are not enough.