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As an English major, writing was a big part of my curriculum. Whether I was writing literary criticism or a reflection on one of Shakespeare’s sonnets, my papers rarely came back to me with clean white margins. But there was never any formal feedback. The edits just meant the professor had wrestled with my writing and that I had plenty of opportunities to learn. I eventually grew accustomed to seeing my work covered in red pen. As I entered my senior year, however, self-doubt kicked in. Was I good enough to be a writer? Did I have what it took to pursue a master’s degree in writing?
