So. . . What are Your Plans?

Maybe I should be a writer.

Nestled away in my cottage with a pencil in my hand and a smudged-up paper pinned under my elbow. Fire crackles in the hearth with wood I chopped that morning. The aroma of spiced tea and weathered parchment float in the room. I stare back at my rows of novels and reminisce through the very adventures that inspired those stories.

The wilderness expands in my mind, an image more vivid than words can recall. What’s the saying? A picture is worth a thousand words. My pencil edges away from an unfinished sentence to the margins. Sketched trees sprout onto the page and limber branches poke between rows of words. Snow-capped mountains etch deep with layers of grandeur on the horizon. I set down my gray pencil and rummage through the desk drawer. Out comes a collection of colored paints. Brush in hand, I swirl the bristles into a glossy pigment. Vibrant blues stroke down the page into raging rivers. Green dots dapple the branches. What are words compared to mountains and trees?

Maybe I should be an artist.

Vivid, visual beauty in every corner. An entire story without uttering a single word. Hues flying out in every direction on a canvas that reach from dirt to clouds. People pass through the gallery, musing the meaning behind each caress of color. The world coming alive through my paintings. Although…what good is a world on canvas if you never live in it?

Maybe I should be a scientist.

It’s not so different. Figuring out how the world works, how everything fits together so smoothly. How does a brush move paint? Why does it glide so soft and yet cause such a striking surge of passion? I’d fasten words and art to uncover every puzzle of nature. Explore the smallest ecosystems to the vastness of space. No longer just who or what or where…but why? I’d solve the deepest wonderings of the world. But then what? Is it enough to unravel the mysteries of life if nothing is created or built from this knowledge?

Maybe I should be an engineer.

Forget the questions. I’m building solutions. Grand creations, stations, transportations. A mixture of imagination and technical mathematics that truly revolutionizes the world. Lay out magnificent plans and designs. But…what if the real joy is building brick by brick with your own hands? I toss the ruler aside and pick up a hammer.

Maybe I should be a construction worker.

Nail that masterpiece together with strong, calloused hands. Shape a pile of wooden beams and drywall into a building. Like a bird or a beaver, fashion a home, a business, a place to gather. What a wonder it must be to start with an empty lot, a blank slab of concrete, and build up to towering greatness. Unlimited possibilities locked in a plan, a structure, a plot of land. I cannot stray from the blueprint, but the angles are too precise, the walls closing in. Where is my sledgehammer?

Maybe I should be an entrepreneur.

Growing, revising, and trailblazing new ideas until they blossom into something amazing. A path of risk and passion, giving every bit of will into starting something novel. It’s beautiful, invigorating, and terrifying. I must protect the dream from each threat gathering round. Do I need a lawyer? Who is my lawyer?

Me! I could fight for those unable to defend themselves. Protect our wills and rights. What about the heart and soul? A missionary defends the innocent, spreads the Word of Truth, and inspires people to gaze into the mess of life. I could see all the good, all the bad, all the heavy weight of reality around me. No more filters. I could connect with so many lives, healing the mind, soul, and relationships.

Who is going to heal the body? Those battered and bruised by the world. I could stitch them back together with graceful precision, giving people extended time to live and love and walk the earth. But what about the animals? Are they not also broken and injured by the world? I could save companions big or small that lack the ability to communicate. Pets can also be feral, dangerous, and manner-less…Pets need training! For a better life, for therapy, to aid those who need less than a doctor but more than the occasional assistance of a friend.

Well, kids also need training. A coach trains athletes to reach their full potential, leading them through each stage of growth. So do teachers. They nurture through careful but grounded lessons that shape young minds toward fulfilling futures. Yet, growing and learning doesn’t end at school. Therapists walk people through their stories, guiding them to mend and flourish through each hardship. Still, no one guides more than a parent.

Maybe I should be a mother.

I’d show my little one how to walk and talk and live and love. Oh, the depth of bliss that must come when creating and molding with so much passion. It's almost like a work of art. A whole lifetime of experiences created from a beautiful dream that was breathed into life or spoken out loud or written in a book…

Maybe I should be a writer.

Chloe Woolet is a homeschooled senior and REACH Student at Bethel, as

well as the first-place winner of the Fall 2025 High School Writing

Contes