I am a small child who wants to be a writer. I have written a story down and I have it with me, scrolled up into a roll. I know that not far from my house, in a tall, magical wood, there lives a powerful Word Wizard whose words can create miracles and wonders. With the blessing of this Wizard, my word can do the same. Although everyone warns me that the woods are dark and scary. I set off to find the Wizard- that's how much I want to be a writer.
I walk and I walk. Morning comes and goes. Afternoon comes and goes. Twilight descends and I begin to grow apprehensive. Just as it begins to grow in the dark, I see ahead of me a glowing golden square set in the forest floor. When I reach that square, I see that is actually a glass door through it I can see a tunnel. The tunnel is lit by torches. It could be salvation or it could be a trap.
I open the door and enter the tunnel. I know I might meet a dragon, but then again, I might meet the Wizard of Words... By the flickering light of the torches, I walk for a very long time. The tunnel leads deeper and deeper into the earth. I clutch my scroll of words close to my side. It is the best story I have ever written- at least it's the one I wrote that day- I am hoping it will win the Wizard's blessing.
Finally, the tunnel ends in a large, round cave. The walls are covered in wine-colored leather and they are lined with books in many languages. Where, I wonder, is the Wizard of Words? In the center of the room, I notice a tall mirror. Maybe he is hiding in the mirror, I think- Wizards frequently do that.
Cautious, be determined, I look in the mirror. Yes! A Wizard is there!
"Show me your manuscript," the Wizard directs, reaching out with a jewel-encrusted sword. I unroll my story and allow him to read it, touching each word with the tip of his sword. To my astonishment, every time he touches a word, a vibrant jewel falls to the floor of the cave.
"Do you want your treasure?" I ask the Wizard when he has finished reading, and a heap of jewels lies on the floor by my feet.
"Foolish child!" the Wizard roars. "The treasure is yours! Such is the value of your words!"
With that, the Wizard vanishes and I find myself staring back at me from the mirror. True, I do look a little like a Wizard. Also true, that the jewels still like scattered at my feet, waiting for me to claim them. I stuff the jewels into my pockets and carefully place my story under my shirt, next to my heart. (It is more valuable than I had realized.)
Newly rich, I retrace my steps through the tunnel, open the sealed-glass door, and climb into the forest clearing where I find a crowd of villagers awaiting me.
"Who goes there?" they shout.
"It is I," I announce, "The Wizard of Words."
Reference:
Cameron, Julia, The Vein of Gold- A Journey to Your Creative Heart, Tarcher/ Putnam Penguin Inc, 1996, NY, p. 85-86, Chapter: The Kingdom of Story
I walk and I walk. Morning comes and goes. Afternoon comes and goes. Twilight descends and I begin to grow apprehensive. Just as it begins to grow in the dark, I see ahead of me a glowing golden square set in the forest floor. When I reach that square, I see that is actually a glass door through it I can see a tunnel. The tunnel is lit by torches. It could be salvation or it could be a trap.
I open the door and enter the tunnel. I know I might meet a dragon, but then again, I might meet the Wizard of Words... By the flickering light of the torches, I walk for a very long time. The tunnel leads deeper and deeper into the earth. I clutch my scroll of words close to my side. It is the best story I have ever written- at least it's the one I wrote that day- I am hoping it will win the Wizard's blessing.
Finally, the tunnel ends in a large, round cave. The walls are covered in wine-colored leather and they are lined with books in many languages. Where, I wonder, is the Wizard of Words? In the center of the room, I notice a tall mirror. Maybe he is hiding in the mirror, I think- Wizards frequently do that.
Cautious, be determined, I look in the mirror. Yes! A Wizard is there!
"Show me your manuscript," the Wizard directs, reaching out with a jewel-encrusted sword. I unroll my story and allow him to read it, touching each word with the tip of his sword. To my astonishment, every time he touches a word, a vibrant jewel falls to the floor of the cave.
"Do you want your treasure?" I ask the Wizard when he has finished reading, and a heap of jewels lies on the floor by my feet.
"Foolish child!" the Wizard roars. "The treasure is yours! Such is the value of your words!"
With that, the Wizard vanishes and I find myself staring back at me from the mirror. True, I do look a little like a Wizard. Also true, that the jewels still like scattered at my feet, waiting for me to claim them. I stuff the jewels into my pockets and carefully place my story under my shirt, next to my heart. (It is more valuable than I had realized.)
Newly rich, I retrace my steps through the tunnel, open the sealed-glass door, and climb into the forest clearing where I find a crowd of villagers awaiting me.
"Who goes there?" they shout.
"It is I," I announce, "The Wizard of Words."
Reference:
Cameron, Julia, The Vein of Gold- A Journey to Your Creative Heart, Tarcher/ Putnam Penguin Inc, 1996, NY, p. 85-86, Chapter: The Kingdom of Story
