One of the hardest things to do in life, as far as I have experienced it, is to decide on a major when you reach college. One of the biggest mistakes I made going into college was fooling myself into thinking that I already knew what I wanted to do. Thankfully, this mistake and a great professor were my saving grace.
As I went through high school and my first year and a half of college I always thought that I was going to be a biology major because it was my second biggest interest. I love science. It is definite, and can usually find a way to answer my two favorite questions: why and how? It can explain so many of my questions about how things work and function.
This last spring semester I realized that I really didn’t like the thoughts that were behind the reasoning behind my biology major. These consisted of vet school, classes that I look at written on paper and found myself dreading, and the (dreaded) idea of being on call at all hours of the day. I forgot about some of my other interests, like writing.
All of this controversy started fall semester with a phenomenal professor that I had for an upper level literature class. He is one of very few professors that I have met that make class enjoyable. This particular class was literature and the environment, and although I find that topic interesting to begin with – a good professor takes an interesting topic and transforms it into something that a student wants to think about. In addition to having to analyze the videos and stories that we read, it was expected that our papers be grammatically correct. Not in the typical “I just wrote this twenty minutes before class and you(the professor) understand what I am trying to say so I still get an A” way, but in the formal, entirely correct way. Every sentence was to be clear and correct in its entirety. Many of my peers hated this professor because of how he went through papers with a fine tooth comb when it came to grammar; I loved him for it.
For the first time in a long time I found myself motivated to write again. This was not only because I wanted to get a good grade in his class but because what he said about grammar made sense. For the first time in years, I would look at a sentence, read it and it felt beautiful. I realized in spring semester, during a different class with him, that what I really love about writing is how beautiful language can be. I’m not referring to the way that poems are written, or stories told. I am referring to the structure of the sentence. How each word frames itself around other words. How beautiful words are. Alone, they are meaningless. Repeat the same word for 30 seconds and the meaning behind it begins to lose its definition; the image associated with the word becomes blurred. When words are put together…they create something beautiful. Something alive.
It was this poetic thought process that made me fall in love with writing again. At the time that all of this realization was happening, I was a biology and equine studies major. I was all about hard facts. The facts said that I had no room to pursue anything that had to do with writing. My school offers a creative writing major. Here began my conflict between choosing a major.
As I stated earlier, I have always had a fondness for biology because it explained how things work. However, with writing, I could create things however I want them to be. Straight out of my imagination. I love the concept of being able to create worlds where things can run as differently and obscurely as I want them to. My professor added to this affinity for writing by refueling the fire that gives me muse to come up with the language to communicate these ideas to other people. Torn by my fondness of both, I had to decide on which path I wanted to follow. Creativity, or facts.
I gnawed on my thoughts about each for several weeks before making my final decision. When I came down to my final decision I looked at a list of the required classes for each major. Under the biology major included chemistry, evolution, organic chemistry, physics and several others. Under the creative writing major were Imaginative writing, journalism, modern fiction and several others. I looked back an forth between the list of required classes several times. I looked down the list of science courses and as my eyes dropped from the name of one class to the next, the ball of dread in the pit of my stomach grew a little more. Looking down the list of literature and writing classes there was a little excitement and a feeling of interest. At that point in time, I decided that I would much rather be a creative writing major so I could honestly enjoy the classes I was taking. Needless to say, I was happy with my choice. Elated, even. Despite the fact that I wasn’t really entirely sure what I was going to do with my creative writing.
As time has gone on, I have not regretted my choice, in fact, I am still glad that I choose the way I did. The one thing that I have noticed, however, is that I don’t seem very writerly. When I think of a writer, I see someone who is very expressive, neat, and flatteringly dressed (while still remaining comfortable). Aside from this mental image of a writerly person, I feel a writer should be not only good with words but also aware of writerly things. Like awards…particularly the ones that have to do with the area of writing that they might be interested in.
I was talking with my boyfriend and his younger brother when the mention of awards came into conversation. I have never been one to follow or watch awards when they are presented because I have never understood the purpose of awards very much. However, when mention of fantasy awards came around, such as the Hugo Award, or the World Fantasy Award (these of which I only know of because they came up in conversation); it occurred to me that, as a writer, I should probably know about these things. I think I need to do some research.
Posted in Biology, College, thoughts and ponder-things, Writing
Tags: college, life, thoughts, writerly things