I was at work until 8pm, got home, had dinner, put on my pajamas, washed my face, brushed my teeth and am now at my desk, writing. Yes, I'd rather be in bed reading a magazine, but at my desk is where I need to be and writing is what I need to be doing. I got accepted to an MFA program in creative writing, what did I THINK I would be doing when I wasn't at work?
Getting my application and portfolio (did I even HAVE a portfolio? I sure didn't) together was the first challenge, but I did it. And I got in. I got into graduate school (I do love the sound of that sentence). Post acceptance, the tiny bursts of panic started. OK, not tiny. How was I going to do this? And work? And have a life? It's a lot, but people do it. My soon-to-be cohorts are doing it. Right now. And, about them, my cohorts, these people I have not met yet. They've welcomed me into their virtual world already. Thirty nine notifications of friend requests on facebook in two days, a welcome shout out from my “big sister,” and lots of welcome messages. So great.
The schedule says I start in December, but the work begins now. I have to get ready for school, adjust the lifestyle I've become accustomed to for the last three years, for the next two years. I need to curb the going out, cut the unnecessary spending (this isn't going to pay for itself, no matter what the mysterious Stafford says) and quit making excuses for why I'm not writing. Every night after work, I'll be doing some combination of reading, writing and editing (though E says not too much editing).This is the thing I have always wanted, and I'm ready to do the work. Time to get serious about Daisy, the writer, version 2.0. Am I ready? Maybe? Yes. Is it worth it? Without a doubt.