Writers Program at UCI Is a Case of Applied Creativity

Glen David Gold had read the short story in Mademoiselle, and its power overwhelmed him. Then he read Michael Chabon’s first novel, “The Mysteries of Pittsburgh,” and was stunned the author had sustained the power for an entire book.

“I thought, ‘Wow. Where did this guy come from?’ I wanted to know how you do that.”

Gold plugged away for several years, writing novels that were never published. He realized he needed help. What was good enough for Chabon was good enough for him, and that meant UC Irvine’s creative writing program. “I applied because of Michael,” said Gold, whose first novel will be published in the fall.

It wasn’t that simple. Gold is one of the few who are accepted to UCI’s creative writing program. While UCI is more celebrated for its science and engineering programs, it has established a reputation as one of the top creative writing programs in the country, ranking close to traditional powerhouse University of Iowa.

About 300 people apply each year for six slots in the two-year masters of fine arts program, which UCI likes to brag, makes it more difficult to get into than Harvard Medical School.

As far back as 1992, Newsweek described UCI as having the “hottest writing program in the country.”

Its reputation received another boost Monday when 1987 graduate Chabon received the Pulitzer Prize in fiction for his novel “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.” Chabon is the third alumnus of the creative writing program to receive a Pulitzer, following Richard Ford for “Independence Day” in 1996 and poet Yusef Komunyakaa, who won in 1994.

Other alums include Aimee Bender, author of “Girl in the Flammable Skirt”; Marti Leimbach, writer of “Dying Young”; and Whitney Otto, who wrote “How to Make an American Quilt.”

Nicholas Delbanco, director of the MFA program in writing at the University of Michigan, said that because of its selectivity, the top students at UCI were better than those at Iowa. “From my vantage point, [the UCI program] has gone steadily up.”

Unlike science or English or math, though, there are limits to how much writing can be taught.

Geoffrey Wolff, director of the program and a novelist himself, almost downplayed UCI’s efforts. “They’ve been writers of talent and good character, and I guess we’ve been doing some good picking and they’ve been doing some good writing,” he said of the program’s successful alums.

UCI students are expected to complete a collection of short stories or a novel for their thesis.

“The Mysteries of Pittsburgh” was Chabon’s master’s thesis. Without telling Chabon, his professor sent the book to his agent in New York, and William Morrow paid him a $155,000 advance, when most first novels receive $5,000 to $7,500.

The novel brought the writing program national visibility virtually overnight, and applications doubled.

While few writers have Chabon’s rocket-ship success, he wasn’t alone in selling his UCI work. Among those who later sold books they were writing while in school with Chabon were Michelle Latiolais (“Even Now”), James Brown (“Final Performance”), Jay Gummerman (“We Find Ourselves in Moontown”) and Louis B. Jones (“Ordinary Money”).

At UCI, like most graduate writing programs, the centerpiece is the workshop. All 12 students sit down once a week for three hours with a professor to critique their writing. At each session, students discuss the work of two or three of their brethren, who submit 30 to 35 pages of work.

“UCI is absolutely, hands down, the one place where 12 people are dedicated to making your book better,” Gold said. “You have two years . . . where everyone agrees the most important thing in the world is writing and improving each other’s writing. I can’t think of a better situation than that to write a book.”

Students come in all ages, some directly from college, others after having written on their own for several years. Alice Sebold, author of the memoir “Lucky,” had tried the literary life in New York before coming to UCI. She had had two agents, had written three unpublished novels and was filled with bitterness.

“I probably was the biggest previous failure of everyone sitting at the table,” Sebold said. “Coming out here and being in that room with people who really cared sentence by sentence really helped me regain my faith in the writing process.”

Sebold said the program is a place where students can make connections to the publishing industry. Two of her professors, for example, helped her get an agent.

Latiolais, who teaches in the program and attended in Chabon’s class, downplayed the commercial aspects. “We intensely focus on the work,” she said. “We never talk about publication. We never talk about marketing. We would be the first to say we know nothing about those things. It’s a small, very serious community that pays a tremendous amount of attention to the work.”

Times staff writer Dennis McLellan contributed to this report.