dear sir or madam, will you read my book… it took me years to write, will you take a look?

You know, I find it funny when people ask me what I am going to school for, and I respond “English”. Almost always the first reaction is “Oh, you want to be a teacher?” I’ve gotten this so much over the last four years of university that I’ve almost considered the idea of going into education, of becoming an English teacher. It’s not that I don’t think it would be something I would enjoy, or probably be good at. I used to teach my stuffed animals the alphabet all the time when I was younger. It’s just that being a teacher isn’t my dream.

And yet, most of the time, I never correct people when they make the assumption I’m going to school, studying English, so that I can someday become an English teacher. It’s not that at all. I’m going to school, I’m studying English because I love English, and the written word is my passion. And someday, in the not too off future, I plan to be able to hold my own novel in my hands. All my life, the only thing I’ve probably been 100% certain about is writing, is my writing, is creating stories and characters and an entirely different world. Writing has been there for me since before I could even write words, creating stories through crayon pictures.

And to be honest–I have been published.

My first elementary school in Trenton would have a young authors workshop every year, and encourage the students to write stories, and both publish and share them with the other students. I do believe my best work was a story about my pet bird at the time escaping his cage, and my neighbor kidnapping him. I was eight years old, and all I knew was when I grew up, I was going to write stories and if I was really lucky, then people would want to buy and read them.

I’m pretty sure that eight-year-old version of me would be incredibly disappointed if she knew that I was scared of admitting to the world that I have no other plan. All I want to do is write, to create stories, and maybe someday be published for real. There are no back ups, no plans if this doesn’t work out. This is what I want, this is what I’ve always wanted, and I’m not going to push that away anymore, to be scared of what people might think.

Sure, I might end up a starving artist, but you know what—I’ll be happy.

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