[This is a spoiler-free post]
It’s Game of Thrones season again, this time for the final time.
This high-fantasy, high-flying dragon epic has captivated audiences since its premiere in 2011, and now with only a handful of episodes remaining, it will soon be time to say goodbye for good to Lady Sansa, the mad queen Cersei, the witty Tyrion, the white-haired dragonmaster Daenerys, and the know-nothing Jon Snow.
I’m a fair-weather fan; I’ve missed all the other seasons and have only now jumped on board when the series is soon to be completed.
I’ve noticed a peculiar trend; people who are proud that they haven’t watched a single episode of Game of Thrones
I’m sure there will be a mass unfollowing after this tweet, but I’ve never watched one single episode of Game of Thrones.
Don’t @ me
— Jason 😈♿️ (@LV_Buckeye10) April 14, 2019
I am proud to be among those who have never watched one minute of Game of Thrones. Not one.
— Neal Boortz (@Talkmaster) April 17, 2019
Hi my name is Mandy and I have never watched one episode of Game of Thrones and I’m ok with it.
— Mandy Wiener (@MandyWiener) April 15, 2019
I feel like the only person who doesn’t care about Game Of Thrones 🤷🏻♀️
— Meredith 👩🏻💻📚📝 (@mere_789) April 15, 2019
There are people on Twitter who proudly proclaim their ignorance, wearing it like some dubious badge of honour, a testament to their uniqueness that they are above “everyone else” who watches the HBO program.
I’ve never read George R. R. Martin’s books, nor did I religiously tune in for every new episode when Game of Thrones was just starting.
But I enjoy and admire the culture the series has created. It’s fun to follow alongside devoted viewers to the impending climax, and I enjoy understanding all the memes that crop up after every episode.
Good Mor-
Bran Stark: pic.twitter.com/8sSxTYI53h
— Sylvie likes webinars but they kill her data plan (@SylvietheBunnyT) April 15, 2019
Why is it such a badge of honour to NOT watch Game of Thrones?
Yes, I’ll admit it: I’ve seen a few episodes. Does that make me a pop culture pariah? Does that mean I’ve been sullied?
Has my curiosity about the craze doomed me to a life of mediocrity? Have I lost the ability to tout this personal potpourri on dates or at parties?
Will I no longer be the one to stoically leave my glass on the table when the game “Never Have I Ever” broaches the inevitable subject of Game of Thrones viewership?
Obviously, the above questions are facetious. Some people have binge-watched every season, and some people have only come on board now to see what all the fuss is about. The point I’m trying to get across is that IT DOESN’T REALLY MATTER.
You are no less a person for not seeing Tyrion Lannister drink and know things.
You’re not special for not knowing the difference between the red and purple weddings.
You are no better or worse an individual for knowing why Hodor says his name over and over.
And you’re certainly not a putz for hanging on for nearly a decade, expecting those dragons to actually do something cool. (Let’s admit the end of season 1 was an epic bait-and-switch to keep you on for the less engaging storylines).
Being proud of what you don’t know is a terribly dangerous stance to take, ESPECIALLY if you choose to become a writer.
As writers, we hold the difficult task of transporting readers to new worlds and experiences through our words.
But if we ourselves refuse to experience new and different things, how can we possibly claim to do the same for others?
Abandon the special snowflake status. You want to be a writer? Abandon ego. Experience everything and anything.
Don’t be like John Snow. Be informed.