I edited some writing today for my job, so I can count that as writing.
But first I want to say, I love being an English major! I have always been one and I will always be one. I love the smell of new books and the crackling sound the binding makes when you open a fresh one.
I love the scribbling across paper or the typing of keys, furiously and without restraint because your thoughts are going faster than your hands.
I love reading and not knowing where you will end up. Meeting new people who aren’t real but feel real. Seeing sights through others eyes. Feeling their joys and pains.
I love writing and sometimes not knowing what will become of the writing but letting the words come out and ending up somewhere completely different.
We visited Byu-Idaho last week. It was Ricks when I was there. I felt that love of learning, that yearning and excitement of finding your own life, your own path. I saw the English building, still the same, orangesish brick exterior. And I was taken back to writing four papers in a few days, reading Lord of the Rings in a month, compiling my work for my final portfolio. And loving it.
I was a more “normal” English major. I didn’t get philosophical often. I hadn’t read every classic book multiple times and create a critique to go with it. I used normal words. But I sure loved the literature. I loved the poetry. I love the courage of authors who gave it their all and published their works. I loved the sharing of feelings.
And I still do. I will always be an English major.