Naming the Dragons

Have you ever thought about naming your dragons as a first step in learning to dance with them? Could that even work? Well, on the theory that it is wise to Know Thine Enemy, let me make a start on mine. Specifically the dragons that come between my writing and me.

For me, there is the Fear family of dragons. They tend to come perch on the parapets of my Castle of Imagination when I wish to write. Of course you can’t see them. They live in my mind’s eye.Castle

Like Darryl Blank-page, who is a dull gray and doesn’t do much except stare (blankly) and occasionally belch a little puff of ineffective smoke. He is of the genus Scribus Blocktorium.

Or Gilda All-That-Glitters, who is shiny, but sly, promising wonders. She bats her eyelashes and purrs sparkles, trying to entice me to chase after her. But at what cost, requiring what changes and what threats to my introverted creative life? “Come to me,” she whispers. “Interviews, book signings, platform building, forget about writing time.” She is of the genus Successiva Traptorium.

And her big brother, Frank No-Way-at-All, who is a dark purple with green spots. He regularly blasts out flames of discouragement that are hard to dodge, full of rejections and inner critic voices and scorn. He is of the genus Failureus Perpetuem.

Okay, dragons, I see you. I name you. And I think I will go now and work on polishing my shield and my dancing shoes. Wait right here. I’ll be back.

Dancing Shoes


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