My Career Ambitions Arguing With Each Other As Embodied By Characters I’ve Overidentified With In The Past
A short play
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
The Tenth Doctor as A WRITING CAREER
Hermione Granger as GRADUATE SCHOOL
Nadia Vulvokov as THE MUSIC INDUSTRY
Arnold Rimmer as GIVING UP ENTIRELY
We open on a small semi-circle of chairs, as if it’s a small Something-or-other Anonymous meeting.
Seated, left-to-right, are NADIA VULVOKOV (Russian Doll), ARNOLD RIMMER (Red Dwarf), HERMIONE GRANGER (Harry Potter), and THE TENTH DOCTOR (Doctor Who).
They’re in the middle of an argument that has been going on for some time and shows no sign of stopping.
RIMMER: —But it’s just nonsensical!
NADIA: It’s very sensical, actually. You gotta make money to stay alive. And if she’s gonna ever do anything she actually enjoys doing, she’s gotta be alive to do it, am I right?
THE DOCTOR: But it’s not about the money, is it? It’s about the adventure! The thrill of a creative endeavor, sending her words out into the world, with the hope that they resonate with something similar inside a stranger. What could be more noble?
HERMIONE: I’ll tell you. The pursuit of knowledge is more noble, especially knowledge attained not only to better oneself but to better the world. Surely, you can’t disagree?
THE DOCTOR: No, I wouldn’t—
HERMIONE: (interrupting) And I’ll be the first to profess to the power of stories, but creative writing can be a lifelong passion! Whereas furthering her education is simply the right choice for the improvement of her immediate future.
NADIA: Please, elucidate.
HERMIONE: Well, you’ll like this, Nadia— a Master’s degree could provide her with higher career prospects, the opportunity to get better-paid jobs right off the bat.
THE DOCTOR: But that would be wasting time! You know she’d be distracted all the while. She may be smart but she just hasn’t got the attention span.
RIMMER: Wasting time? Hah! If she was ever going to be successful as a real writer, she shouldn’t have wasted the last four years messing around with concerts and record labels!
HERMIONE: So, what—you think that means she ought to just move back in with her mum and dad?
RIMMER: Honestly, I don’t know how she hasn’t done it already. I mean, twenty-four years old, nothing to show for herself— I say, past her prime, time to pack it in.
TEN: Nothing to show? Nothing to show? Shame on you! She’s seen the world— well, some of it— she’s been across the country with bands, she’s graduated university with honors, she’s had multiple jobs in her chosen field, written nearly two hundred thousand words this year, even had a viral tweet—
NADIA: Yeah, all of that! And, hey, hologram boy, at least she’s not dead.
RIMMER: ...Low blow.
HERMIONE: But, Doctor, achievement isn’t the measure of a life.
THE DOCTOR: No, of course not. I’m just saying, she hasn’t been resting on her laurels— she’s done so much, and she can do so much more.
HERMIONE: It’s true. If she went back to school, imagine the intellectual progress she would make, and the new creative horizons that would open up for her.
NADIA: What about the debt she’d have to rack up? I mean, there’s about to be a recession, right?
THE DOCTOR: Good point, Nadia. And look, graduate school would just be postponing the inevitable. She wants adventure, she wants the new, the unexplored, not— not more classes and essays!
HERMIONE: But school would be a chance for change! For new experiences, in a new place!
RIMMER: Both of you, don’t you see that throwing away years and change of experience to fling herself blindly into some brand new environment is idiotic? She should just resign herself to a long-term career of low-level entertainment industry drudgery. That’s as good as it’s gonna get.
NADIA: Smarmy, you had me in the first half, not gonna lie. But she knows what she’s doing with music, she’s going places. She’s a meme queen! A damn powerhouse! People know her, people respect her! She’s gotta stick with it and not just give up— if she really puts pedal to the metal, she’ll shoot up in the biz like a rocket.
THE DOCTOR: You’re all forgetting something— the first thing she ever wanted to be when she grew up was a writer.
NADIA: Yeah, and when I was six I wanted to be a fuckin’ garbage truck driver. What’s that got to do with anything?
HERMIONE: Listen, if she found the right graduate program, it would be just as fun a challenge as trying to move up in the industry would be. Plus, she’d meet new people! Better people!
NADIA: Sweetheart, you know there would be just as many dipshits for her to dislike in a media studies program as there would be at any new biz gig.
RIMMER: Anyway, ambition is meaningless. Just because you want to do something more than anything doesn’t mean you’ll actually be good at it— take my own career, for example.
NADIA: Hey, watch it. She’s been totally killing it, for your information.
RIMMER: No she hasn’t! It’s all a preposterous illusion of ego.
THE DOCTOR: Yes, she has been doing well, but imagine if she were able to really maximize her creative potential! That’s why she should—
HERMIONE: Continue her studies!
THE DOCTOR: (simultaneously) Commit to writing!
The Doctor and Hermione glare at each other. Rimmer and Nadia let out groans.
NADIA: Fuck, this is dumb.
She lights a cigarette.
HERMIONE: Oh, it’s hopeless.
RIMMER: We’re never going to figure this out. It’s fundamentally impossible to know which choice is right!
The Doctor is sitting there, smiling now.
NADIA: What the hell do you have to be grinning about?
THE DOCTOR: Ah, but don’t you see?
HERMIONE: ...Hold on…!
THE DOCTOR: (triumphantly) That’s right! The fact that we’re here having this discussion in the first place is all the proof you need that I’ve come out on top.
NADIA: Shit.
THE DOCTOR: Creativity reigns! I am the Time Lord Victorious!
RIMMER: Oh, smeg off.
HERMIONE: The cheek!
NADIA: Alright, that’s it. I wanna go home.
RIMMER: Me too. Wait, how are we going to get out of here, anyway?
HERMIONE: ...Maybe a carpool?
Everyone slowly turns to look at the Doctor.
THE DOCTOR: No, no, no—
RIMMER: Pleaaase?
A beat, and then—
THE DOCTOR: (sighs) Oh, all right. Fine. Come on then, you lot, allons-y.
They all file off stage.
The sound of the TARDIS is heard.
Lights out.
FIN