April 23rd 2016 marks the 400th death anniversary of William Shakespeare (you might have heard of him). I was in sixth grade the first time I read Shakespeare’s work — Romeo and Juliet, to be specific. I still have the first part of the prologue memorised: “Two households both alike in dignity / In fair Verona where we lay our scene…” You know the drill. It was around the same time that I really got into writing. I’d already written my first poem years ago (it was a masterpiece called ‘The Cat on the Mat’), but it was in about sixth grade that English became my favourite subject.
Fast forward to high school. When the time came to start applying for university courses, I already knew what I wanted to study. Since I want to be a published writer, English literature and creative writing seemed a good way to go. It wouldn’t necessarily guarantee me a job as a writer, but if I wanted to succeed at something, I needed to learn how to do it well. But a while back, I started wondering whether I made a selfish choice.