TO PUBLISH OR NOT PUBLISH (YET)

It's one of the most common—and complicated—questions that comes up in an MFA program: Is now the right time to publish?

This is a conversation I've had many times over the years, but this is the first time I'm taking it on in a newsletter.

Let's go back a bit--like, way back to the time I published an essay in a free county circular. It was a modest credit, but when I saw it in print, it might as well have been the Paris Review. I was that excited. It wasn't just about the thrill of seeing my name in print (though that was part of it); it was the feeling that I had completed something—finished a thought, refined a vision, given order to chaos.

We write because we want to make sense of things, but we also write to connect—to give a part of ourselves to someone else. Publication, at its best, is a gift we offer. It's the final step in the creative process, where the work leaves you and is received by someone else.

I've seen many students publish during their time in the program, and for some, it's been a meaningful and affirming part of their growth. But I've also seen how the pressure to publish can complicate, distract, or even hinder the deeper work of becoming a writer. Like so much in this life, it depends. And like most important things, it deserves thought and care.

Let's start with the benefits.

Publishing while you're still in the program can offer a tremendous confidence boost. It can affirm that the work you're doing is resonating beyond the classroom. It can help you begin to build a literary presence, connect you with editors and other writers, and even open doors to opportunities—residencies, fellowships, jobs—that often follow in its wake.

If you're applying to fellowships or PhD programs, even one or two publications can make a difference. If you're writing a book, placing an excerpt in a reputable journal might catch the eye of an agent or editor. The publishing world often runs on momentum, and there's something to be said for getting your work out into the world while you're still in the groove of writing regularly, receiving feedback, and growing.

And then there's the matter of practice. Submitting your work means learning how to push a draft to completion, navigate rejection, how to refine your editorial instincts, and how to find the right home for each piece. These are all essential skills for a writing life, and there's no harm in learning them early—provided you have the emotional bandwidth to do so.

Now let's look at the possible perils.

The pressure to publish too early—or too widely—can distract from the deeper, slower work of craft. Writing is not a race. And while you're in an MFA program, you have the rare and fleeting gift of time: time to write, time to revise, time to experiment and fail and begin again without the burden of market expectations. You don't get that kind of protected space forever. And sometimes, when we turn too quickly toward external validation, we shortcut the more important process of developing our voice.

There's also the risk of publishing work before it's truly ready. Something that seems finished now might, in a year, feel like a draft. Once it's out in the world, it's hard to take it back. This isn't to say you should hold everything close forever—but rather, to be mindful of what you're sending out, and why. Is it because the work is truly ready? Or because you're trying to prove something—to yourself, to others?

There's also the emotional toll to consider. Rejection is part of the process, but it can be hard to keep perspective when you're still in a vulnerable phase of learning and growth. One “no” might roll off your back; five in a week might not. Be honest with yourself about how much you can handle while also balancing coursework, teaching, and the complexities of life beyond the classroom.

So what's the answer?

It's not either/or. You don't have to choose between publishing and growth. But you do have to be intentional. Ask yourself what your priorities are right now. What does success look like for you in this moment? Maybe it's landing a poem in a journal you've long admired. Maybe it's finishing a full draft of a short story. Maybe it's learning to write dialogue that sounds like real speech. These are all worthy goals—and they don't always align with publication timelines.

If you do decide to submit work while in the program, be strategic. Share your work with people you trust before sending it out. Research the journals or presses you're targeting. Think about the kind of writing community you want to be part of, and let that guide your choices. And remember: rejection is not a referendum on your talent. It's just part of the process. Every writer you admire has faced it—often many times over.

Finally, don't lose sight of the bigger picture. This time is for you. Publishing is part of the writing life, but it's not the whole of it. What you're building here—in the classroom, on the page, on your laptops—is the foundation of a creative life. That foundation will carry you far longer than any one acceptance ever could.