No, I will not write you paper on the migration patterns of wildebeests

When people find out I'm an English major with dreams of becoming a published author, I usually get one of two reactions:

Adults smile at me, their doubts showing through their blank stares and overly chipper sound of "Ohh"s. 

Kids my age think they're the funniest people alive and say, "You'll write my papers, then, won't you?"

Basically, I'm never taken seriously.  But maybe that's because I never speak of my major seriously.

Whenever I'm asked what I go to school for, my response is almost always, "I want to be an author, but obviously I don't need to go to college for that, so, I don't know, I need another major besides English." Or, " I'm majoring in Creative Writing, so yeah, I won't really have a substantial job."

The red flag here in case you missed it: I have no confidence in my dreams.

Why is that? Why do I shrug my shoulders and say I want to be an author as if it is the most stupid and least satisfying goal?

If I had to blame anything, it would be the way today's popular society views an English degree.  In elementary school, we were taught to dream big and work hard so that we could become things like scientists and brain surgeons.  In high school, we were pushed to fill our schedule with advanced classes and to skip out on "pointless" courses like stitchery and foods in order to get in to the best universities which would ultimately score us the best jobs. "Best jobs" of course always meant the ones that brought in the most bank.  Unless you're J.K. Rowling, writers and authors never made the cut.  Evidently, the obvious jobs an English major can get someone are lackluster and senseless in comparison. 

And maybe this is true.  I can't make money spending nine hours a day writing a book I'm not sure will sell.  There's a fat chance that the first publisher (or first ten publishers) I send my novel to will want to sign a contract with me. 

I've bought into the idea that being a writer for a living won't be comfortable.  That pursuing an English degree will only get me so far.  It's because of these notions I've been fooled into believing that I have no confidence in my future. 

The truth? If I keep feeding myself these lines, if I continue to expect my peers to regard my dreams with doubts, then I'll never reach my heart's desire. 

And what's the point of having a dream if you're only going to let the negative views of others stomp it to nothingness?

Pretty much what I mean:

Currently Reading: My Life Next Door by Huntley Fitzpatrick
On Repeat: "The City" - Ed Sheeran