A letter from me, to, well, me.

Congratulations, Self. You have completed all the coursework necessary to graduate with your MFA. You’re deemed, by the Powers that run the Graduate Liberal Studies program, qualified to write a book. Soon, you'll finish thesis. Graduate. Be qualified to teach at a University if you want to.

Remember graduating from college and getting sitting at the desk of your first job thinking “Oh my God. This is so dreadfully unfulfilling. I can’t do this. I need art. I need substance. I’m going to die.”? But then you didn’t die, you sold all your shit and moved to the other country where you mustered up the courage and determination to find some way to do your art and support yourself without wanting to die. And you decided to really start helping other people.

Remember waiting for your acceptance letters for graduate school? You were sitting in the office of an engineering company answering phones, and you suddenly knew that somehow, Melanie was with you. You didn’t know why you felt her there until you got a phone call from Regina telling you you were accepted into the program. You excused yourself from your desk and went into the storage room—the only place for privacy in the office—and jumped up and down. That is why you felt Mel’s presence—she was, from wherever she is now, jumping up and down with you.

Remember when you moved to Minneapolis for school and your loving Dad drove up a bunch of old furniture to help you with your new apartment because you had no job or car and everything you owned fit in a suitcase? Remember how alone you felt when you moved here and didn't have a single friend nearby?

Remember this last semester, and the one before that and the one before that? When you got up, went to work, listened to audio books on poetry and cosmology and physics while you worked, then studied things you had to study because they were required until 11 p.m.? Remember sitting in class for 3 hours after a full workday? Spending all weekend doing homework? Doing it all over again?

Yeah, that is over. Starting today.

Starting today you get to work on your fabulous thesis project directed by two amazing, established guru writers. You get to ask them for what you need to grow and they are going to do their best to give it to you.

You get to make your own book lists, study whatever poets you want and make your own schedule. You’ll have more time to apply for writing stuff, go to readings and send your stuff out.

You have a job that is moderately creative and many times enjoyable. It not only pays your bills, but totally understands if you need a morning off to write. And if you need a month off to fly to the tropics to revise your thesis in peace, they will work with you to make it happen. Oh, and they’re paying for your credits, as of last March.

Now you get to buy new furniture. You get to move into a bigger place. You get to not freak-out about money.

Now you have friends, a writing community, a loving partner.

Lots of times in the last three years have been hard. Finding the right job fit, getting homework done, sometimes living on a credit card. Struggling to be a better writer. Handling the emotionally taxing work of being creative on demand. Struggling to figure out what the right path is for you, how to get on it and how to get by while honoring your calling. Being afraid of being a bad writer, or being afraid of being a good one. Dealing with some other unexpected, difficult life-things. There were also many good things, but a lot of times, it has been hard.

Well, here you are. The next year also include a lot of hard work, but you can handle it, and will be better for it. You have earned all the enjoyment the results of your efforts brings you. You have done well. Keep it up.