The Latest Humiliation

For several years in the 1990s, I attended a small, rather exclusive writing workshop with the poet Philip Schultz. Recently, having decided to apply for an MFA program (in Creative Writing) at a university here in Connecticut, I wrote to Phil to ask for a letter of recommendation. Here is his reply:

Chris,

The truth is I only vaguely remember you and not your work at all. It’s been too long and too many students since.

I can’t honestly recommend work I don’t know and I can’t look at anything because I’m having a hard time keeping up with my students’ work, let alone my other obligations. You’re writing me because of the prize, you and many others, I understand it and don’t mind at all, but the prize isn’t going to get you into a school that wouldn’t otherwise want you. You need a letter from someone familiar with your recent work. I also just wrote for one of my students to the same place and that would work against you.

I wish you luck. If your work is strong enough it’ll take you there. And beyond.

Best,

Phil

The "prize" Phil refers to is the Pulitzer, which he was awarded last month, & which has burnished his reputation. I'm amused that he assumes I approached him because of that, when I would have done so anyway. He is the only obvious choice I have as a reference for a creative writing degree. That he doesn't remember me, I suppose, is understandable, if unnerving (I wish I didn't remember all the checks I made out to him). Ah well. The life of a writer is just a long series of humiliations.