Of course, after graduating there's that awful task of getting a job. I put it off for another year and studied mathematical astronomy--there's beauty indeed! Then I took a job writing programs to simulate missile guidance systems. Okay, I admit, that really is odd. Then I took another job writing programs to help design cars which was much more peaceable.
I wrote stories on green striped paper that came out of noisy printing machines. I wrote them on scraps of white paper with worn-out calculations on the back. I wrote them on the backs of old envelopes, on cast-off pages from spiral-bound notebooks, and in my head. I would've written stories on table-napkins except they tore too easily.
I was a mathematician, earning my living with a thoroughly enjoyable job, and writing for joy in every spare moment I found. Then I sent a Christmas book to a publisher and he sent it back--too religious he said. I sent it somewhere else and they said it wasn't religious enough. I sent it into a box beneath my bed.
I was a mathematician. Don't give up the day-job!
I guess I could have been more persistent; I could have been more productive. I'm reading Sage Cohen's The Productive Writer and wishing I'd read it back then. But never mind. If you visit my blog today you'll meet her there and maybe learn to avoid my mistakes!