A recent college graduate and a physician returning to a long-deferred ambition might arrive at Sarah Lawrence College’s MFA Writing Program with very different stories. Both need something that can be difficult to find amid professional obligations and everyday distractions: People who will take their writing seriously.
Director Paige Ackerson-Kiely sees that range across the program’s roughly 100 students. Some come directly from college; others are changing direction in their 30s and 40s. Lawyers, doctors, and psychotherapists arrive after substantial careers, sometimes after sending their own children to college.
“They’re ready to reinvest in their original vision for themselves as a writer,” Ackerson-Kiely says.
That investment begins with sustained human attention. As artificial intelligence makes generating text increasingly effortless, the Sarah Lawrence MFA in Writing program is emphasizing the value of thinking, questioning, and making art in conversation with other people. The program’s new tagline captures that conviction: “Write like the human you are.”
“The art of storytelling is as old as time,” Ackerson-Kiely says. “It’s what makes us human. It binds us to one another.”
At the Bronxville campus, that philosophy takes concrete form around a round table. Weekly workshops meet for two and a half hours and are kept intimate, at between six and 12 students. Alongside those group discussions, every student has a standing half-hour appointment with their workshop professor every other week, known as “conference.”
Ackerson-Kiely calls this conference model the program’s “crowning jewel.” The conversations allow faculty to respond to a writer’s particular needs. A student struggling with endings might receive targeted reading and exercises. Another might bring in a larger manuscript or develop new work through the exchange.
“It’s a really focused and meaningful half hour,” she says, describing “a collaborative experience between two writers in a room together.”
The program offers concentrations in poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, and speculative fiction. The speculative fiction track developed in response to students whose work required specific conversations about world-building, fantasy, and science. That responsiveness reflects a broader commitment to helping writers pursue their own ambitions.
Equally essential is learning to read someone else’s work with care. Faculty cultivate workshops where generosity includes thoughtful, substantive criticism. For Ackerson-Kiely, attention carries an obligation.
“In order to receive meaningful attention, you must learn to give more than blanket praise or criticism. In this program you will develop the vocabulary to offer nuanced, thoughtful feedback,” she says. “Your attention is the absolute best gift you can give to a fellow artist.”
Craft remains central, but students also prepare for the practical demands of a writing career. The literary colloquium brings approximately 60 writers and industry professionals to campus throughout the academic year. Sessions range from craft talks which touch on specific elements of writing craft or the writer’s journey, to workshops about writing query letters and artist statements, applying for residencies, and tax preparation for freelance writers.
In their final semester, students prepare for individual meetings with literary agents, researching an agent’s interests and developing a query letter. Assistant Director Maddie Mori emphasizes that these conversations are valuable even for writers whose manuscripts are still developing. “The agents that we find to speak with our students are very understanding, very patient, very generous with their time,” she says. Students can use the meeting to ask questions, get feedback on a query letter, and become more comfortable with the process.
The larger goal is a durable writing practice, supported by editorial skills and relationships that continue after graduation. Ackerson-Kiely still speaks daily with friends from her own MFA program more than 20 years ago. Mori hopes students find readers who will keep exchanging work and supporting each other through publication and other wins.
Leaving with a revised manuscript matters. So does knowing how to return to the desk. “It’s overwhelming to be a writer,” Ackerson-Kiely says. “It’s freaking hard and you have to be courageous and tough. It helps to see writing as a vocation, as a way to more deeply engage with the world.”
Sarah Lawrence gives that work structure, companionship, and room to grow.
