From Frugal Pharmacist to Aspiring Author: The $8,955 Dream That Broke a Lifetime of Thrift

Ivy Ge had to read the acceptance letter from GrubStreet's Online Novel Incubator program twice before she could believe it. "Dear Ivy, congratulations on your acceptance to this year's Novel Incubator. Our review panel was impressed by your application and eager to welcome you aboard." For a moment, all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

This was the rigorous, highly regarded novel-rewriting program she had been longing for—something that might finally help bring her stories into the world. After months of laboring over her latest psychological thriller, the effort finally felt like it was paying off. She pictured her novel propped near the front of a bookstore, the title glowing under bright lights, the cover hinting at danger and secrets.

The Staggering Price of Pursuit

Then her eyes landed on the number in the congratulatory email. Tuition for the year came to $8,955. Her immediate reaction was visceral. Could she really justify this cost for herself?

Her mind began tallying expenses—groceries, utilities, medical bills, car insurance, the random stuff that always pops up. She imagined calling her mother and hearing that quick inhale over the phone. She knew exactly what her mother would say—she had heard it all her life. "Good daughters save. They don't splurge."

In her mother's world, money was for stability, not self-improvement. Spending nearly $9,000 on a dream sounded reckless. Selfish, even.

A Lifetime of Calculated Frugality

Ge had retired at 50 from her career as a pharmacist by following the FIRE (Financial Independence, Retire Early) movement, planning every expense with precision. She left San Francisco for a small lakeside town in Mexico, trading city noise for bird calls and dreamy water. Her days revolved around writing, something she had dreamed of since fifth grade when she wrote a story about a robot destined to save the world.

Now the opportunity she had longed for stood before her, and she froze. She had counted thrift as virtue for years:

Home-cooked meals and sale-rack clothes
An Excel sheet tracking every dollar
Keeping her hair long to avoid salon costs
Buying Costco rotisserie chickens and simmering the bones into broth
Borrowing textbooks from the library during pharmacy school
Working double shifts to pay off student loans

"Money was never just numbers," Ge reflects. "It carried moral weight. Every dollar left untouched meant you were disciplined and prepared."

The Psychology of Self-Denial

Ge didn't grow up in a wealthy family. Her mother sewed her clothes when she was little, and her father stretched every grocery trip to its limit. From a young age, she learned that wants were dangerous and that women who asked for more invited disappointment.

This mindset followed her into adulthood, creating what she describes as "a habit that has kept me from not just big spending but also big dreams." Once, she almost applied to an MFA program—even drafted the personal statement—before abandoning the application. The same old fear whispered again: What if it's a waste of money?

She had the chance to cut her work hours to three days a week and focus on her writing but slept on that decision for days. What if she didn't make enough to support her family? What if there were major medical expenses she couldn't cover? The thought of putting writing first felt daring beyond what she could handle.

The Turning Point

Almost three years after retirement, Ge had completed four novels. When she submitted her application to GrubStreet, she didn't think she'd get in. She just wanted to test the waters, to see if anyone out there might appreciate her work.

Overwhelmed by the acceptance notice, she tried to reason with herself. Yes, $8,955 was a lot of money, but maybe it would bring her closer to getting her novels published. Didn't she deserve to invest in a dream she had carried for decades?

And yet, the word "deserve" caught in her throat. Every big purchase she had made for herself came wrapped in guilt. She had bought birthday presents for friends and family, paid for expensive dinners, even donated to her pharmacy school and Wikipedia, but the idea of spending that amount on her own ambition felt shameless.

External Perspectives and a Tragic Reminder

Unable to decide, Ge called a friend. When she told her the price, her friend fell quiet. Ge wasn't surprised—her friend had put off pastry courses at the San Francisco Baking Institute for years, even as she paid private school tuition for her three kids.

Frustrated, Ge did something she acknowledges was ridiculous: she asked ChatGPT what she should do. The answer came a second later: "Go for it." Part of her just needed to hear it from outside her own head.

Then came devastating news: her best friend from high school had died. They were born only two months apart. The last time they saw each other, her friend had mentioned she hoped to take her dream trip to Europe. She wanted to wait until after her son's college graduation. Until the timing was better. Until it was too late.

Ge stayed up at night thinking about her friend. She remembered them sitting on the windowsill of their high school's top floor, facing each other, dreaming about who they might become. Ge had told her she would be a writer with stories that reached people everywhere. Her friend wanted to be a travel journalist and visit the edges of the world.

"Thirty-six years later, neither of us lived the dream exactly as we'd imagined it," Ge realized with painful clarity.

The Decision That Changed Everything

This realization prompted a fundamental question: "What good is financial freedom if I can't invest in myself? At this stage of my life, can I afford not to spend on who I hope to become?"

She got out of bed and went straight to her laptop. This time, she typed a response to the program director, thanked her for the opportunity, and told her she wanted in. When the email whooshed out, she stared at the screen, caught between relief and panic.

"It feels like stepping past a line I've spent my whole life toeing," she describes. "So be it. This will wreck my carefully balanced budget, but I'll figure things out. After all, I've gotten so good at making do. But now I know something else: I can't afford not to try anymore."

Ivy Ge is the author of "The Art of Good Enough." A pharmacist turned writer, she explores themes of identity, resilience and reinvention through essays, novels and screenplays. She holds degrees in business, engineering and pharmacy, and draws on that interdisciplinary lens to tell emotionally grounded stories about personal transformation.