Is spending two to three years and tens of thousands of dollars on an MFA degree actually worth it? It’s not a question with a simple yes or no. The answer depends on what you want from your life, your art, and your future. For some, it’s the only path to teaching at the college level. For others, it’s a financial trap with little return. Let’s cut through the noise and look at what really happens after you graduate.
What an MFA Actually Is (And Isn’t)
An MFA, or Master of Fine Arts, is a terminal degree in creative fields-writing, visual arts, film, theater, design. It’s not a business degree. It’s not a certification. It doesn’t guarantee you’ll sell your work or land a gallery show. What it does give you is time, space, and access. Time to make art without the pressure of a full-time job. Space to experiment, fail, and grow. Access to mentors, peers, and sometimes funding through teaching assistantships.
But here’s the thing: the degree itself doesn’t open doors. Your portfolio does. Your network does. Your persistence does. The MFA is just one tool in a long list of tools you’ll need.
The Real Cost of an MFA
In the U.S., tuition for a two-year MFA program can range from $10,000 to over $60,000. At top private schools like Columbia or Yale, you’re looking at $70,000-$90,000 total, not counting living expenses. Even public programs like the University of Iowa or UC Irvine can run $30,000-$50,000 for non-residents.
But cost isn’t just about tuition. It’s about lost income. Most students don’t work full-time while in the program. That’s two to three years of potential earnings-$50,000 to $100,000 depending on your field and location-gone. Add in materials, travel to readings or exhibitions, and printing costs, and you’re easily looking at $80,000-$150,000 in total investment.
Some programs offer full funding: tuition waivers plus a stipend. These are rare. Only about 15% of MFA programs in the U.S. offer full funding to all admitted students. The rest? You pay. And you pay a lot.
Who Actually Benefits?
The people who get the most out of an MFA are those who want to teach creative writing or studio art at the college level. Almost every tenure-track position in these fields requires an MFA. It’s the gatekeeper. If you dream of being a professor, it’s not optional. It’s mandatory.
But here’s the catch: there aren’t enough jobs. The American Association of University Professors reports that over 70% of college instructors are adjuncts-underpaid, no benefits, no job security. An MFA gets you in the door, but it doesn’t guarantee you’ll stay.
For artists and writers who don’t want to teach? The ROI is much murkier. A 2023 survey by the National Endowment for the Arts found that fewer than 12% of MFA graduates in creative writing made more than $50,000 annually from their art alone. Most had to work other jobs-freelance editing, tutoring, retail, or remote admin work-to make ends meet.
Alternatives That Work
What if you don’t need a degree to build a career in art or writing? Plenty of successful writers never got an MFA. Roxane Gay, Ocean Vuong, and Zadie Smith all built careers without one. Many visual artists sell work directly through Instagram, Etsy, or local galleries without ever stepping into a graduate classroom.
There are cheaper, faster paths:
- Workshops and residencies-like the Iowa Writers’ Workshop summer program or Vermont Studio Center-cost $2,000-$5,000 for a few weeks, not years.
- Online courses from reputable institutions like The New School or UCL offer structured learning without the debt.
- Self-directed projects: publish a chapbook, start a Substack, launch a small press, build a portfolio website. These cost less than $1,000 and give you real-world experience.
These paths don’t come with a diploma. But they do come with a portfolio, a readership, and a track record-things that matter more than a degree in the creative world.
The Hidden Value: Community and Time
Let’s be honest: the biggest benefit of an MFA isn’t the degree. It’s the community. The people you meet-other writers, artists, critics, editors-become your lifelong network. These are the people who will read your drafts, recommend you for residencies, invite you to readings, and introduce you to publishers.
And the time? That’s priceless. For most people, life gets in the way. Jobs, rent, kids, bills. An MFA forces you to prioritize your art for two years. That kind of focus is rare. If you can use that time wisely-to write every day, to read deeply, to build habits-you’ll come out better than most.
But that only works if you go in with discipline. If you treat it like a vacation or a social club, you’ll waste it.
When an MFA Is a Bad Idea
Don’t get an MFA if:
- You’re doing it to escape real life or avoid other career choices.
- You expect the degree to make you famous or rich.
- You’re unwilling to take on $50,000+ in debt without guaranteed funding.
- You don’t plan to teach at the university level.
- You’re not prepared to work a side job for the next five years after graduation.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make art. But if you’re not ready to make it your full-time job-even if it pays poorly-you’ll be miserable.
How to Decide: A Simple Checklist
Before you apply, ask yourself these questions:
- Do I want to teach at a university? If yes, an MFA is necessary.
- Can I get full funding (tuition + stipend)? If no, reconsider.
- Do I have a strong portfolio or writing sample? Programs care more about your work than your GPA.
- Am I willing to live on a tight budget for two to three years?
- Do I have a plan for what I’ll do after graduation-even if it’s not in academia?
If you can’t answer yes to at least three of these, you’re better off exploring other paths.
The Bottom Line
An MFA isn’t a bad degree. But it’s not a magic ticket. It’s a high-cost, high-risk investment with no guaranteed return. For those who want to teach, it’s essential. For everyone else, it’s optional-and often unnecessary.
The real question isn’t whether an MFA is worth it. It’s whether you are ready for what it demands. Time. Money. Risk. And above all, the courage to keep making art-even when no one is paying you to do it.
Is an MFA required to become a college professor in creative writing?
Yes. Almost all tenure-track positions in creative writing and studio art require an MFA as the minimum credential. It’s the standard terminal degree in these fields. Without one, you won’t be considered for these roles.
Can you make a living as a writer or artist with just an MFA?
Very few do. Less than 12% of MFA graduates in creative writing earn more than $50,000 a year from their art alone, according to the National Endowment for the Arts. Most rely on adjunct teaching, freelance work, or side jobs to pay the bills. The degree opens doors to teaching, but not to financial security.
Are there affordable MFA programs?
Yes, but they’re rare. A small number of public universities-like the University of Arkansas, University of Texas at El Paso, and the University of Massachusetts Amherst-offer full funding to all admitted students. These programs are highly competitive. Most others charge tuition and offer partial funding at best.
What’s the difference between a funded and unfunded MFA?
A funded MFA covers your tuition and gives you a stipend-usually in exchange for teaching undergraduate classes. An unfunded MFA requires you to pay tuition and living costs yourself, often leading to $50,000-$100,000 in debt. Funded programs are the only ones that make financial sense for most students.
Can I skip the MFA and still get published or exhibit my work?
Absolutely. Many successful writers and artists never had an MFA. Publishers and galleries care about the quality of your work, not your degree. Submit to journals, enter contests, build an online presence, and network directly. Your portfolio is your resume.
If you’re serious about making art, the best thing you can do is start now-no degree required. Write every day. Show up. Build your community. That’s what lasts.
Comments
Geet Ramchandani
Let’s be real-everyone who says 'the MFA is worth it' is either tenured or has a trust fund. I know a girl who graduated from Columbia with $110k in debt and now teaches composition at a community college for $42k/year with no benefits. She cries in her car after grading 80 papers on 'the importance of thesis statements.' And don’t even get me started on the 'community' myth. Half the people in my cohort were just there to date professors or Instagram their latte art with #MFAlife. The rest? They disappeared after year one. The only thing an MFA guarantees is that you’ll have a fancy title and a lifetime supply of imposter syndrome.
Pooja Kalra
Art is not a career. It is a condition of being. The MFA, like all institutional rituals, seeks to commodify the ineffable. To ask if it is 'worth it' is to already have surrendered to the logic of capital. The true artist does not calculate ROI. The true artist endures. The world does not reward depth-it rewards visibility. And visibility, as we know, is a performance. The degree is merely the costume. But who among us dares to stand barefoot in the snow without a program to validate their existence?
Sumit SM
Wait-so you’re telling me that the only people who benefit from an MFA are those who want to become adjuncts who make $3k per class and have zero job security? And that the other 88% of graduates are just...out here? Writing poems in their pajamas while working at Target? And yet, somehow, we’re supposed to believe this is a *path*? I mean, seriously-why not just get a job at a bookstore, start a Substack, and call yourself a ‘writer’? No debt. No thesis. No mandatory workshop where someone says ‘this line needs more vulnerability’ while sipping oat milk latte? The whole system is a pyramid scheme with better lighting.
Jen Deschambeault
I know this sounds cliché, but if you’re serious about your art, don’t wait for permission. I didn’t have an MFA. I had a laptop, a library card, and a stubborn refusal to quit. I published my first chapbook at 28 by mailing 50 queries. Got accepted into a residency for $500. Now I teach workshops online and make more than most adjuncts. It’s not glamorous. It’s not easy. But it’s mine. Stop waiting for a diploma to give you legitimacy. Start making the work. Then show it to the world. No degree required.
Kayla Ellsworth
Of course it’s worth it-if you’re rich, white, and have parents who’ll pay off your loans while you ‘find yourself.’ Otherwise, it’s just a very expensive way to say ‘I’m not ready to be an adult yet.’ And don’t even get me started on the ‘community’ narrative. The real community is the group chat where people post their rejection letters and say ‘still writing’ like it’s a mantra. Meanwhile, the people who actually publish? They’re not in workshops. They’re in bookstores. At readings. With real readers. Not professors grading their ‘emotional honesty.’
Soham Dhruv
man i dropped out of my mfa after a year and honestly? best decision ever. i was spending more time worrying about workshop feedback than actually writing. now i write every morning before work, submit to small journals, and got a chapbook out last year. no debt. no drama. just me and my words. if you can do that, why pay 60k? honestly. the only thing the mfa gave me was anxiety and a stack of unread books. i’d rather have a good coffee and a notebook.
Bob Buthune
I cried when I got my acceptance letter. I cried when I got my first stipend check. I cried when I realized I’d be living on ramen for two years. And I cried again when I saw my transcript after graduation-$87,000 in debt, zero job offers, and a professor who told me ‘your voice is unique but the market is saturated.’ I spent six months in therapy after that. I’m not mad. I’m just… hollow. The MFA didn’t make me a better writer. It made me a better debtor. I still write every day. But now I write for free. And I don’t miss the workshops. I miss the person I was before I thought I needed a degree to be worthy.
Jane San Miguel
While I appreciate the pragmatic tone of this post, it fundamentally misunderstands the epistemological function of the MFA as a site of critical and aesthetic formation. The degree is not a vocational certificate; it is an initiation into the discursive traditions of literary production. To reduce it to a cost-benefit analysis is to replicate the very neoliberal logic that has hollowed out the humanities. The ‘portfolio’ you fetishize is a symptom of late-capitalist artistic commodification. The MFA, when properly engaged, cultivates a mode of attention that cannot be quantified-nor should it be. To suggest that Roxane Gay’s success negates the value of the degree is to confuse the exceptional with the exemplary. The MFA is not for everyone-but for those for whom it is necessary, it remains irreplaceable.