I overheard a small part of a conversation the other day. It was during lunch and the guy at the table next to me was complaining that no one had warned him about the downside of getting a degree in English Literature. This got me thinking back to my college days. While there’s much I don’t remember about my life in the fog of the 1980s, I can clearly recall that many friends and family members questioned my choice of an English degree. Though no one said it to my face, I sensed that many felt I was on a road to nowhere. My grandfather, in particular, was an old-school businessman and he just didn’t get it.

Of course, my grandfather and the others were right. I was on a road to nowhere. I didn’t have a career path and, more to the point, I didn’t want one. It took about ten years, but I finally finished school. I even stayed around long enough to get an M.A.—one of my toughest decisions back then was figuring out the subject for my graduate thesis. After a brief fling with Hemingway, I settled down with Chaucer and wrote about the quest for love in his dream visions. If the people in my life couldn’t understand the value of an English degree, they really couldn’t fathom going medieval.

Now, with many years of professional writing experience under my belt, I can see that my English Lit degree did indeed lay the foundation for my career. Who would have known? If my grandfather were alive today, I’m sure he’d be pleased to see me dangling from the corporate ladder, though he probably wouldn’t know what to make of a career in videogames (but that’s a subject for another day). In any event, looking back on it now I’m sure that many people were warning me to follow a different career path while I was in college. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have the sense to listen.