The student panel on MFA Creative Writing programs initially promised to be interesting, offering an odd assortment of celebrity facsimiles, including a slim and self-conscious version of Justin Timberlake, a bitter and exhausted Nicole Richie, a middle-aged Ali Fedotowsky,a self-conscious Scarlett Johansson and an itchy, bearded Rick Moranis.

Justin said little, looking like he just needed something to eat. Nicole spoke tersely and not about writing, instead focusing on the difficulty of being separated from her boyfriend while at school.

Ali tried to stay on point, explaining that she did a lot of writing in her program. “It’s really great,” she beamed.

“You do a lot of workshopping too,” Rick added.

“Oh yeah, you do that,” Ali agreed.

Scarlett looked on, trying to look like she was seriously listening. None offered much insight on anything relevant – strengths of a specific school or programs, key aspects in the application process – except to say that their experience, whatever that was, had been really great.

“I mean, really great,” Ali affirmed.When asked how many schools to which one should apply, Ali replied, “As many as you can. I mean, I was lucky. I got into the one I wanted.”

“Me too.” Rick added; they were at school together.

“Any more questions?”

No one bothered; everything else had already been left unanswered.