Anthony Varallo, AS '92, considers himself lucky, and he's right. Out of 1,296 applicants, the UD English graduate is one of only 36 creative prose writers to receive a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship in literature this year.

When he saw the application information in a literary magazine last year, Varallo, who is pursuing a doctorate in creative writing from the University of Missouri, realized he was barely eligible: "I had just published my fifth story (the minimum required for eligibility) and the application was due in eight weeks," he says. "I never thought in a million, billion years that I would get it."

For an emerging writer, an NEA fellowship is a seal of approval. Since 1990, 40 of the 60 recipients of National Book Awards, National Book Critics Circle Awards and Pulitzer Prizes in fiction and poetry also have been recipients of NEA creative writing fellowships. Novelists Jonathan Franzen (The Corrections), Annie Proulx (The Shipping News) and Jane Smiley (A Thousand Acres) were early recipients of NEA fellowships.

This year, Varallo was among the successful 3 percent of applicants to the program, and one of the few short-story writers. Had he missed this year, he would not have been able to apply for another two years, since applications in fiction are accepted only every other year. Most applicants are experienced writers?and academics who have tried repeatedly to add this coveted award to their resumés.

"I know there were hundreds who were eminently qualified. I think it was the longest odds of anything I'd ever tried," says Varallo. "I feel honored to be in the company of [these] writers."

When he entered the University, the Yorklyn, Del., resident didn't expect to be a writer. In high school, he had worked briefly for his school newspaper and had submitted stories to the literary publication, a collection of photocopied pages stapled together. He liked to write, but most of what he produced, he says, "ended up in a drawer."

But, one UD course changed his life. In his sophomore year, he enrolled in an introductory course in creative writing taught by Bernard Kaplan, associate professor of English. "I had never taken a creative writing course before," he says. "It was a great experience. I had a lot of good classes as an undergraduate, but none had as big an impact on me as the creative writing class.

"I took Bernie's class because I was interested in writing, but that was about it. After taking [it], though, I began to take writing more seriously. I started to write more often and read more often. Between classes, I ran over to Morris Library and read whatever I could find."

Much of his time was spent discovering authors he had never encountered before, Varallo says. In his senior year, he interviewed one of them. Short-story writer Tobias Wolff visited campus to give a reading and present the annual literary awards to students. To prepare for the interview, Varallo read (or re-read) everything Wolff had ever published.

Kaplan remembers his former student and is not surprised by his latest success. "Tony's...stories had weight, mass, density. He had a sense of craft, of language. His work didn't have just cohesiveness, but a voice. After the fourth story, you could say, 'This is Tony's work.'

"His flaw," Kaplan adds, was one most inexperienced writers have. "It took him a long time to learn that he had to rewrite."

By the time Varallo graduated, he had taken both of Kaplan's creative writing courses and had won an award for a story in UD's literary magazine, Caesura, but he still couldn't decide on a career path.

"I knew that I wanted to do something with writing...but I wasn't sure what," he says. He worked at several jobs--in a bookstore, in a video store and for one of the large financial institutions based in Delaware. "I was working jobs to pay rent, not writing much. Finally, I got it together and applied to Iowa [Writers' Workshop]. I was lucky to get in."

Varallo had to submit three work samples with his application. Two were stories he had written in his UD creative writing classes. On the strength of his writing, he was awarded a two-year fellowship to attend the prestigious program, earning his master's degree in 1997. At the University of Iowa, he taught undergraduate classes and screened writing samples from applicants hoping to get into the program.

After graduation and another period of working odd jobs in San Francisco, Varallo decided to go back for his Ph.D. "A doctorate in creative writing is a very new idea. A master's degree used to be a terminal degree for teaching in the field 10 or 20 years ago," he says. He chose the University of Missouri because he could submit a creative dissertation for his doctorate, which he will earn in 2003. At Missouri, he teaches undergraduate courses in creative writing, composition and literature and is adviser to the literary magazine, The Missouri Review.

Over the past five years, Varallo's short stories have gained increased recognition in literary journals and contests. His work has gone from garnering finalist status in literary contests to winning prizes. Last year, in addition to the NEA fellowship, he received the Associated Writing Program Intro Journals Award for Fiction (awarded to students currently in graduate writing programs), second place in the River City literary magazine competition and third place in the student writers' competition sponsored by The Atlantic Monthly.

Varallo says there is not much of a market for short stories outside of literary magazines, where "the standard rate of payment is zero dollars and two free copies. The preferred form of writing is the novel. That's what has a chance to be marketable. Short stories are relegated to an apprentice form--what you start off with." Yet, they are excellent vehicles for teaching and learning the craft of writing, he says.

Because it's good for a writer to see his work in print, Varallo says he continues to submit work for publication. "When I see my stories published, I notice things I didn't see on the manuscript page and things I want to change. It makes you a better writer." Yet, he says, "I don't write to be published. When I'm writing a story, I'm not worrying about its afterlife."

Sometimes, it takes him two months to complete a piece. "I write slowly, then I revise, revise, revise," he says. After numerous revisions, a story may still get rejected. "You get used to getting rejection letters. Having worked on a literary magazine, I know that editors are looking for the best story they can get and one that is the best fit for the magazine. It's not that your story is bad."

Varallo keeps track of his rejections. His record number for one story was 31.

His work is mostly about families and children. "The events are fiction, but the story may be emotionally autobiographical," he says. "I can remember a long, boring summer and use that emotion in the story, but the events themselves are not autobiographical."

His plans for the fellowship year are to use the time and the $20,000 award to revise his stories and get up to a dozen ready for publication in book form, perhaps even write a few new ones. "I won't have to look for a job this summer, and I can reduce my workload in the fall. I'm really looking forward to it."

Varallo's advice to aspiring writers: "Don't give up. Believe that what you have to say is worthwhile."

Some of his work can be seen on the NEA web site as [www.arts. endow.gov/explore/Writers/Varallo.html]

--Josephine Eccel