Marc Acito, author of How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theater (Teen’s Top 10 (Awards)), wrote a fantastic commentary this morning on the writer’s strike that I just had to share:

Got a call this morning from All Things Considered asking for a commentary on the writer’s strike, then they got a producer instead. Here’s what you would have heard:

Okay, so you feel for the strikers. I mean, if the profits on TV and film were a carrot cake, the writers just want a few flakes of coconut. But, chances are, you’ve got other things on your mind. Specifically, how to cope with entertainment withdrawal? Rather than subsist on a diet of reruns and reality TV, here’s an idea.

But first, a little history: before television, before movies, there were these things called books. Perhaps you’ve heard something about them. Harry Potter for instance? That’s a book. And not only are there six more of them, there are whole stores full of other books, cheerful, well-lit locations where you can also get coffee and a danish.

Yet an Associated Press poll from this past August showed that one in four Americans read no books last year. None. Zippo. Zilch.

Now there’s no nice way to say it: this country’s getting dumber. Smart people read. Everyone knows that. I don’t have any statistics to back that up, but trust me, I’m a book-writing professional.

As a novelist, I feel for the writer’s guild writers, but at least they make a product people consume. I might as well be making buggy whips or button hooks. So while you’re supporting the writers by boycotting film and TV, you could also support other writers like me, whose first book was optioned for film. Which is currently not being made. Because of the strike.

Believe me, life without TV can be done. Without even noticing, I became one of those people you occasionally hear about who claims to have stopped watching television. I honestly didn’t think such people existed. I didn’t even mean to become one of them. But, as my favorite shows ended, I just stopped replacing them with new ones. Smart people I trust tell me I should watch Lost or 30 Rock, but I got busy and never picked up the habit.

Or here’s another idea: before there were books, there was conversation. That’s right, instead of ignoring one another while staring at a box of light, people looked at each other. And talked. And told stories. And, if they couldn’t make them up out of whole cloth, they gossiped about the neighbors. That’s right. Did you realize that right next door there are people you could spy on and talk smack about? Instead of reality television, we could focus on, y’know, reality.

And, as the nights grow longer, and you run out of things to say, you could also engage in the activity humans have done for millennium when the nights grow longer and they run out of things to say. So while we’re waiting for the professionals in Hollywood to get their fair share, now would be a good time to remember how to entertain ourselves.

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