I remember writing one of those “What do you want to be when you grow up?” essays once. While my peers wrote about becoming nurses, teachers, and athletes, I wrote about becoming a writer one day. In my essay, I rambled on about my dream job. I’d live in a nice apartment in the city, drink a lot of espresso, be a brooding, moody writer (without the trademark black turtleneck worn by the stereotypical brooding artist) and write masterpieces. I’d be the voice of my generation, writing work that would be read for years to come. My work would be quoted in high-school yearbooks. I’d have a detailed Wikipedia page and be a household name. In my mind, I was living the life.
Five years passed, and I realized my dream was a little unrealistic, so I decided to switch paths. Now, instead of writing, I choose to do graphic design. However, I still get the itch to write from time to time. One of those times happens to be now, as I read about the Canadian Creative Writers and Writing Programs Conference taking place in a month’s time. Three days of seminars and readings about writing and literature, all held on campus at UBC—it’s like Woodstock for writers. If you’re head over heels for writing, it’s a weekend you don’t want to pass up.
