Bedtime Stories and Library Cards: The Socially Unacceptable

As a female and an English major, I constantly find myself caught in awkward conversations initiated by the phrase, "What are you going to do with that?" as though I were in possession of a half-drowned cat.

This honest question has inpsired tears, blogs, flippant remarks and sincere research into respectable fields; law school, teaching, and publishing are much more appropriate answers than the honest truth. No one wants to hear about my aspirations to be a writer and someday give soem truth about the human condition.

They think I have not acquired the skills necessary to pursue a career. What a waste of an education. These days, societal norms dictate that reading for pleasure is unacceptable whilst there is work to be done and parties to attend. And writing? Best pick out your cardboard box and harmonica sooner rather than later. How can any English major compare to the prepared and oh-so-charismatic business major? How can we expect to succeed in a recessive economy without any "practical" skills? We are, after all, nothing but anti-social bookworms who write for fun and are never hired.

One can thus imagine my delight to discover, though fictiously rendered, a monarch who finds reading more compelling than her duties as Queen of England. Rather like the skeptics in my classes and concerned friends back home, Her Majesty's advisors found this particular habit worrisome and attempted to stamp it out in favor of (what they considered) more worthwhile activities. But the Queen--a clever, hardworking woman in constant review of her duties--found that reading was much more important than anything else she would do. A higher calling, one might endeavor to say. She becomes alive and vigorous through her new education, and more frequently full of dread at the mundane tasks of her entitlement. Her life changes rapidly in just a few short pages, overturning years of habit and so-called esperience.

But the Uncommon Reader's true delight lies in its very last sentence. Suddenly I felt the urge to cheer for her, admire her courage, and wish for her clarity and deliberation. If I had the bravery to abdicate a throne in the name of writing! Once upon a time, I woudl have echoed the prime minister's alarm that the Queen was throwing away everything--to write?

But I realize now, it is just as the Queen says: "One must be tough to be a writer." Her words would contain dangerous and uncensored truths--and publishing those truths would be more important than anything she would ever accomplish as queen. It is difficult to explain to the "pratical" majors that writing is not to be quantified by its salary or recognition. It never was. Writing demands our selves, our experience, our beliefs--and leaves behind a legacy unmatched by any CEO, prime minister, or queen. For Her Majesty, writing was a sacrifice, as it is for those who choose that road; it transforms us from what we once were into something much greater.

How many could say the same about their majors?