Treading the Tip of the Literary Iceberg

When I first began the quest to get my Bachelor's Degree, my original minor was in English. The primary reason that I got into such a program was simple; I love books, I love writing and I surely love to talk about both things. And honestly, I was under the impression that these were the only qualifications for being successful in such a program. Three classes into the program, I discovered that my being so naïve got the best of me a little too late.

Now, forgive me if the hook sounded clichéd, but I do not intend to go on a diatribe about the pretentious notion of some of my professors, or even the one-sided views of some of them, like the time when I learned about Hemingway through the eyes of a rabid feminist; the "men are pigs" kind. What I wish to focus on was inspired by an experience during the first day of my Introduction to Fiction course.

On the first day, the professor asked each student to answer an ice breaker question in addition to the typical, "what's your name, what's your major and what are you here for," dribble. She asked, "what are the last three books that you read?" I grew nervous from the get go, considering that the few students before me mentioned that they had read such classic authors such as Wharton, Joyce, Tolstoy, Eliot and Austen, amongst others. However, foolishly, I thought to myself, "Nah; they're not going to judge me!" And then it came my time to stand up and speak.

"Hi, my name is Travis and I'm a Communication Studies major with a minor in English. I want to be a fiction writer. The last three books I read were by JA Jance, Dean Koontz and JK Rowling." And thus, that proclamation inspired several shocked and dirty looks, as if I had just admitted that I was a crack head or convicted sex offender who used his financial aid money to buy crack and Filipino child prostitutes. Let's just say that I felt like the odd man out.