My week at Yale
lessons from my time at the Yale Writers' Workshop
Going through security at LaGuardia, the TSA agent spotted my freshly bought Yale sweatshirt, complete with a crest sporting the school motto, “Lux et Veritas.”
“How’s Yale?” he asked me with the kind of smile you rarely see on the face of someone working at the airport.
“It was good!” I squealed. This was the first time a stranger asked me about Yale, and he had assumed I wasn’t just a tourist who grabbed some merch from the bookstore.
“Did you just graduate?” he asked.
“No, I just went to a summer program, but it was really great!” Okay, maybe I’m not a true Yalie. It’s not like I have a degree—just a certificate saying I was there for a few days.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a writer!” Not, I’m trying to be a writer or I want to be a writer but definitively, “I am a writer.” I told him I write a bit of everything, but what I love to write most is fiction.
“You should go to Vermont,” he said.
“Are you from Vermont?”
“No, but it’s my favorite place,” he explained. “I think you would get really inspired there.”
Unfortunately, I was going in the wrong direction to make a pitstop in Vermont. After a week spent in New Haven, Connecticut surrounded by brilliant, talented writers, I was headed back home to Arkansas.
This conversation has stuck with me. That TSA agent has no idea that just months ago—maybe even weeks ago—I would struggle to admit that I really am a writer. I would barely want to talk about Yale, feeling a sharp pang of imposter syndrome every time the name of the school fell from my mouth.
But now, I have the confidence to claim the title of writer and the authority to wear Yale across my chest. This girl from the middle-of-nowhere, Arkansas, really did spend time learning about the craft of writing at Yale University. Am I dreaming?
Despite the entire week being focused on writing, it’s hard to put into words what my time at the Yale Writers’ Workshop meant to me.
We spent our days workshopping peer work, attending craft talks, discussing publishing with professionals, and exploring the historic Yale campus. I lived in the dorms and ate in the dining hall, really leaning into the classic college experience, even if just for a few days.
But now, after only being home for about 48 hours or so, what I think about as I reflect on the experience are not the lessons I learned or the notes I took. What I got out of this experience were the friendships and connections I formed and realizing how special it is to be surrounded by artists in all stages of the process.
Early on in the week, I called my parents and said that there was no way I would be sad to leave once the session ended. The bathroom didn’t have paper towels, one of the showers was more like a glorified hose, and I didn’t know who I should sit with at breakfast.
But before I knew it, my workshop group of ten girls began bonding. All from different walks of life and geographical locations, we started feeling like we’d known each other forever, or at least I did.
I was fascinated by the stories told by people from big cities like New York, San Francisco, and Chicago, while they were intrigued by my tales of small town Arkansas. I wanted to know more about how they balanced a passion for writing and a career in the finance or tech spaces, while they wanted to ask me all kinds of questions about the life of an MFA candidate.
Needless to say, I was very sad to leave them behind. The goodbyes were teary.
A phrase I’ve been turning over in my head a lot this year is “I can do hard things.” It’s simple, and the kind of quote you might find overlayed on an aesthetic image on Pinterest, but it has stuck with me.
For many years of my life, I held myself back based on what I thought I could and could not do. Perhaps I wanted to invite that nice girl from my 9am to coffee so we could be friends, but “that’s not the kind of thing I can do.” Maybe I wanted to apply to a dream school, but I would never get in, so why bother?
This whole experience of applying to the Yale Writers’ Workshop, getting in, and attending it has taught me so much, but mostly, it has shown me just how life-changing it can be to actually do the hard thing.
I almost didn’t apply because I thought I’d be wasting the application fee on a rejection. For weeks after getting in, I wondered if it had been a mistake and I would get a follow-up email rescinding my acceptance. When I got there, I thought I would never measure up to the talent everyone else possessed, comparing myself to other people instead of focusing on my own growth and craft.
But now, I’ve done the hard thing. Well, hard things.
I flew by myself for the first time. I got myself from an airport in New York City to New Haven. I checked in and moved into my dorm room on my own. I found people to sit with at mealtimes, one of the main stressors of the week. I workshopped my writing with people who had been strangers just days prior. I read my work out loud in front of people I didn’t know. There are so many other things that broke me out of my comfort zone, and I am better for it.
In pushing myself, I gained confidence I didn’t know I could have. I made friends that already feel so close to me, despite only spending five days with them. I am so much less afraid to put myself out there because I can see all the good that can come from it.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about eighteen-year-old Caroline. She was a girl who moved to a college five hours away from home in the middle of a pandemic and was forced to transfer to her hometown university when that didn’t work out. She wanted to go to a school with prestige and honor, and she didn’t get to. She also wanted more than anything to be a writer, but couldn’t admit it to herself, let alone the people around her. Maybe she could study business, maybe she could be an accountant, maybe she could get herself a nice day job and write a novel on the side.
Now, I am twenty-three. I’m just months away from earning an MFA in creative writing, I attended a program at Yale University, and I fully wrote an entire book. While it still needs polishing and a book deal is not quite on the horizon, I wrote a book that I love. What would eighteen-year-old Caroline think of me now?
While I was there at Yale, I had a conversation with someone in my workshop group about the future of our novels. She said the name of my book to me and I had to pause for a moment. Hardly anyone in my life knew the title and no one had ever said it back to me. That was such a surreal moment that I will keep with me forever.
I didn’t have a good college experience. I started during covid and then ended up moving home in shame where I kept my head down and just wanted to get the whole four years over with. I don’t really keep in touch with any of my college friends and most of my memories revolve around stress and heartache.
But this past week, I ran into my friends in the communal bathroom while we brushed our teeth and did our makeup, we bonded over horrific dining hall food, and we confessed secrets to each other like sisters. That was the college experience the movies promised me that I never got to have and I will always be grateful for that.
I’m still in shock that I actually spent a week at Yale as a student. I wore my student ID on a lanyard around my neck with pride and bought two sweatshirts at the bookstore that have quickly become prized possessions. I can now tell you exactly what New Haven pizza tastes like, that Gilmore Girls obviously didn’t actually film on campus, and that the art museums there rival huge landmarks like The Met or The Louvre.
In so many ways (plus ways I’m not ready to share yet), I feel completely transformed. That might sound like an exaggeration, but I don’t believe I am the same girl I was a couple of weeks ago.
During the week leading up to the program, my anxiety manifested so physically, I found it hard to do much of anything. I had a rash, ulcers, headaches, and other stress symptoms too TMI to share. Now, I feel like I could conquer the world.
This program gifted me confidence both in tackling my fears head on, but also in giving me valuable experience that has made me a better writer and member of the literary landscape. It also introduced me to so many wonderful people that I would honestly put in my wedding party one day. What a gift it is to spend time with talented artists who are just as passionate as you!
I’m grateful for the whole experience and the impressive line it gave me for my resume, but mostly, I’m proud of myself for doing the hard thing, despite the rash and fear, and I’m humbled by all the amazing writing I got to read from people who love the craft as much as I do.
Do the hard thing. You are more capable than you think.
Sincerely,
Caroline Cherry
Personally, I don’t love travel-type blogs that feel like I’m reading someone’s itinerary. What I love to read about are the lessons people learned over the course of the journey.
That being said, I know a lot of you have expressed curiosity about what the Yale Writers’ Workshop is like, so I will be opening a thread in my subscriber chat where I will answer any specific questions. <3
Previous posts I wrote about getting in/preparing to go to Yale:
The tension between humility and confidence
I have evil thoughts sometimes. They arrive like an unexpected knock at my door or a stone through my bedroom window. I’m smarter than everyone here. I’m more talented, more driven, better. When these thoughts arrive, I am sure to correct them. No, my inner voice says.
awww Caroline!! I’m so happy for you!! I loved your vulnerability in this about your previous college experience and how you’ve transformed. It’s so important that people share the reality of life’s highs and lows, and how things don’t always work out how we planned, but there’s so much light ahead! I truly look forward to seeing what more you accomplish 🫶
this was so cool to read about and i am so proud of you!!!! such an amazing experience, thank you for sharing and i hope that you continue to foster that confidence in being a WRITER and a growing human who CAN do anything 🩷