Nope. I like writing, just to write.
And although, like the rest of my contemporaries, I've been pondering this for years, the notion of "You have so much time!" is really not the case anymore. My major should ideally be declared by the end of next year, so it seems unrealistic to still be in Completely-Undecided-ville. I know what I like to do, it's just that it's a socially unacceptable interest.
There are a few things that have influenced my sureness of becoming an English (likely Creative Writing emphasis) major.
A good friend of mine gave me permission to share what she put on Facebook a few days ago. It literally describes how I feel PERFECTLY and kind of was impeccable timing. It was exactly what I needed to read, and here it is for the benefit of whoever else:
"When a parent asks what a child wants to be, possibly the worst answer they can get (aside from fashion model or movie star) is a writer. The parent will do everything they can to sway their offspring from that world. They will say things like, "Oh sweetie, writers make no money. You want to make money, don't you?" Most children are fascinated with the idea of money, so this revelation will immediately put the thought out of their malleable little minds.
However, to some children, this doesn't matter. They will protest and argue, whining about how J.K. Rowling has lots of money. So the parents will try and push them in a more sensible direction. "Why not write for a newspaper, or a magazine?" Since many little girls and boys would love to babble on about sports, murders, and 10 ways to do your hair that will make him drool, this offer will often knock down the last of the writing hopefuls.
But, very seldom, there is a child who does not care about money, and who does not want to babble on about sports, murders, and 10 ways to do your hair that will make him drool. Sometimes, there is a child who wants nothing more than to write about things that do not exist. They live in a world of fantasy where their friends are centaurs and their teachers invent time machines. They have a typewriter in their head that turns every spoken word into living text. They pick words they like based on how pretty they look or how strangely they roll off the tongue. These children will not be like other children. They will be labeled as "odd", but they will not care because their noses will be buried in books, or pressed close to a ratty journal.
They will grow up to be odd adults, and be much less sociable than others because there will be days when they have too many words in their heads and some of them simply must be written down. They will smoke ridiculous amounts of cigarettes (or stand out in the freezing cold to see their breath) because watching the swirling, erratic patterns of the smoke helps them think. They will drink obscene amounts of vodka with orange juice (or sometimes cranberry) because to write about someone being drunk, they must first experience it themselves. They will cry and scream and tear out their hair when a character gasps their last, because in a way they just killed their best friend.
These are the children condemned to life in a world they create. They will be different, and they will do weird things like stand in the rain for hours to see what it would be like to kiss in it, or run through the woods in the dark to feel the rush of being chased by a homicidal ex-husband. These are the children who tell stories so well because they understand everyone else's feelings better than their own. They are the best comforters, the best confidants, and the least judgmental, because they know that worse things can be done. These are not merely the writers. These are the novelists."
However, to some children, this doesn't matter. They will protest and argue, whining about how J.K. Rowling has lots of money. So the parents will try and push them in a more sensible direction. "Why not write for a newspaper, or a magazine?" Since many little girls and boys would love to babble on about sports, murders, and 10 ways to do your hair that will make him drool, this offer will often knock down the last of the writing hopefuls.
But, very seldom, there is a child who does not care about money, and who does not want to babble on about sports, murders, and 10 ways to do your hair that will make him drool. Sometimes, there is a child who wants nothing more than to write about things that do not exist. They live in a world of fantasy where their friends are centaurs and their teachers invent time machines. They have a typewriter in their head that turns every spoken word into living text. They pick words they like based on how pretty they look or how strangely they roll off the tongue. These children will not be like other children. They will be labeled as "odd", but they will not care because their noses will be buried in books, or pressed close to a ratty journal.
They will grow up to be odd adults, and be much less sociable than others because there will be days when they have too many words in their heads and some of them simply must be written down. They will smoke ridiculous amounts of cigarettes (or stand out in the freezing cold to see their breath) because watching the swirling, erratic patterns of the smoke helps them think. They will drink obscene amounts of vodka with orange juice (or sometimes cranberry) because to write about someone being drunk, they must first experience it themselves. They will cry and scream and tear out their hair when a character gasps their last, because in a way they just killed their best friend.
These are the children condemned to life in a world they create. They will be different, and they will do weird things like stand in the rain for hours to see what it would be like to kiss in it, or run through the woods in the dark to feel the rush of being chased by a homicidal ex-husband. These are the children who tell stories so well because they understand everyone else's feelings better than their own. They are the best comforters, the best confidants, and the least judgmental, because they know that worse things can be done. These are not merely the writers. These are the novelists."
Not only is it remarkably well-written (though I'm not surprised - she's awesome), it addresses key problems that have been on my mind regarding a writing-related major. People DO always tell me, "Well, if you like to write, just do something with journalism. Then you can work for a newspaper." This might sound stubborn, but I don't want to work for a newspaper. Not really, anyway. If I got a job at one, would I turn it down? Probably not. But I know my passion does not lie in news, politics or advertising, which are all strongly associated with a journalism major.
There is the truth, though, that UW-Madison has an excellent journalism program, but it is competitive, and the application process seems really daunting, even more so when I'm not sure if it's the correct path for me. Then again, the idea of "being accepted" is somewhat of a challenge to me, and I think it would look more impressive on a resume than just a standard B.A. in English.
So there's that.
But then this video has been circulating on Facebook as well:
This is pretty validating to me, too. No, I will likely never be all that successful if I major in English with Creative Writing, but I do at least have the chance to become an expert at something I love to do.
It's really a tough decision for me. If only I liked science or math. I know it seems selfish to "waste my time" on a degree like this when I could use my intelligence in other areas to better benefit society. I guess if I wanted to, I could become a nurse or a health specialist of some kind. But I know I'd always be thinking "what if" and regretting my life choices.
Hey, I might regret this one too. But I have to at least try it.
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