I have many sayings in life, but one of my favorites is this: No 18-year-old knows what they want to do for the rest of their life. I recognize that there are always going to be exceptions to the rule. But, generally speaking, expecting a fresh-out-of-high-school college freshman to choose a major -- and therefore decide what they want to be when they grow up -- is an awful lot to ask. I was one of those rare ones who knew from about the age of fifteen what I wanted to be when I grew up: I wanted to be a writer. Specifically, a fiction novelist. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my hero, Stephen King -- and make a living writing and telling stories. A noble goal, to be sure. But, because I was only 18 and completely clueless, I didn't have the foggiest idea how to make that happen. I didn't know where to find the resources that could help me. Plus, an English degree didn't seem super...well, practical. I looked at the profession of "writing&quo