Talk me out of it

Unless I slam on the brakes, I'm set to begin the MFA in creative writing program at the University of San Francisco in June. There are plenty of good reasons not to do it, but when I picture classes starting without me, the pang in my chest tells me I really want to do this. But at what cost?

I'm not talking only financial cost, though that's daunting. The program is designed for working adults, with classes two evenings a week and the remainder of the work (about 20 hours per week) done independently. Plenty of people work full-time and manage to get through the program, the USF folks tell me, but what about people who work a job and a half for about four months a year? That's me from about mid-July to mid-November, when I do my writing (and interviewing and transcribing and rehearsal going) for San Francisco Ballet on top of my job as a magazine editor, and it's a ton of work. And no, giving it up isn't an option. Yeah, I need the money, but I love the gig.

So there's that, and there's wanting to have a life too. You know, things like spending time with my loved ones and doing the cultural and social things that feed me. What, give up all that to become even more of a computer drone than I am?

Looking at the flip side, what would an MFA give me? Probably not a teaching job, if I decided to pursue one, since women like me (read: of a certain age) generally don't get hired for those. (Hello, glass ceiling.) And I'm certainly not interested in relocating to take such a position.

But I'd become a better writer, and that's important to me. And I'd expand my community of writers—also important.

OK, so I want it all. And though I'm leaning toward doing it, it does seem like a very expensive bit of self-indulgence (and more than a little scary). So c'mon, everyone, talk me out of it. Or convince me that when life gives you an opportunity, you say yes.