It struck me recently that the heroes we admire so much from stories are the people *not* following the rules. No adventure was ever written that starred the obsequious girl in the corner who never said boo, even when a mosquito landed. Such tales are reserved for those who throw caution to the wind, making their literal and figurative cape fly out behind them, as they break old problems with new solutions that no one dared dream before. I find this true of stories for both boys and girls. Josephine Alcott was not doing what women of her time should have been. And Frodo definitely wasn’t your typical hobbit. So why are you, and me, so petrified of offending, worrying, following, conforming, being what we are not? Just a thought.

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