T.A. Barron's Blog, page 7

T. A. Barron, award-winning author, shares ideas with young writers by Carlene Phillips
The Harvard Press
April 14, 2023
View Original Article | PDF It’s close to 4 p.m. on April 4, and 10 or so fourth- through sixth-graders are lined up in chairs in the small room off the Children’s Room in the library, facing a large screen. Abby Kingsbury, in almost her 18th year as the children’s head librarian, asks her assembled writing group if they have their questions ready. Some hold up pieces of paper, while others say they have one in their head.

The students have been meeting once a month since the start of school, talking about their reading and ideas about writing and spending 20 minutes either writing from a prompt or continuing on with their own stories. Sharing their work is optional. Kingsbury says they are a great group and do some amazing writing. She is a writer herself, but she says she has been immersed in finishing up her second master’s degree; any dream of writing full time will have to wait.

“When is he coming?” asks one student; “What do we call him?” asks another.

And then, on the screen, is T. A. Barron, an award-winning and New York Times bestselling author, talking from his home in Colorado. “Hello, young writers,” Barron greets the group. Kingsbury tells him the children have been wondering what to call him, and he replies they should call him Tom.

Floor-to-ceiling bookcases

Behind him are what look like floor-to-ceiling bookcases; lots of the books are by him, many translated into different languages. “This is my writing room,” he says. He points to his right and says he probably has more wizard staves than anyone else, gifts from fans of his Merlin series. He says he can see mountains covered in snow from his window but there are also signs of spring, hints of green he calls “leaf breath.” He asks the group if there are signs of spring in Harvard.

Barron lived in Harvard until he was 12 years old. He has written in a published reflection, “Wherever I’ve gone, I’ve carried with me so many memories of my childhood in Harvard.” He returned in 2010, by invitation of Kingsbury, and read from his then latest book in Volunteers Hall. He later tells the group that one of his favorite things was the smell of the apple blossoms in Harvard.

“How many of you have written something?” Barron now asks the group. Lots of hands go up. Barron says that’s great, and Kingsbury tells him they are “awesome writers.” She says the students have questions for him. Before the meeting, the students had helped arrange the room so that they, in turn, could sit in a chair in front of the microphone, introduce themselves, and ask their questions.

No favorite child

Delia, a fourth-grader, goes first, asking, “What is the best book you’ve written?” Barron asks her to clarify that she means his favorite, and then replies that he has written 32 books, and that it would be like asking a dad to choose his favorite child. His books range from children’s picture books to chapter books to 13 books in his Merlin series to his Atlantis trilogy. His latest book, “Giant,” is a prequel to the Merlin books and centers on a very tiny fellow named Shim. “But Shim is a giant in a certain way,” he hints.

Next is Johnny, a sixth-grader, with a question about how the author gets his ideas. Barron replies that his answer may very well surprise Johnny because, although he writes fantasy, he gets his ideas from the real world. There are all kinds of funny, sad, scary things around us that we can feel, and there is unending material. He says the first job of a writer—or anybody, for that matter—is to “be a good noticer.” Observe things closely. Take something small that struck you and add a little drop of imagination; make it as real as possible.

Everyone in the group read at least one book by Barron in preparation for this conversation. Anderson, in grade 4, says he likes to write historical fiction. He tells Barron he liked the phrases in “Tree Girl” and “the suspense you built.” He wonders why, at the end, the girl goes home with her real family and leaves the old man. Barron exclaims—as he had with the previous speakers and continues to do—”That’s such a great question.” He adds, “I love smart readers who ask big questions about life.” He responds that stories are not a one-way street, that they are collaborations between a writer and a reader. “The magic happens when a reader makes the story his own.” He tells Anderson the old man had too much fear about the forest, but that was the girl’s true home; she had to go back.

Seeing the world differently

“I write what I would like to read,” answers Barron in response to fifth-grader Vidhur’s question about choosing a genre. He says that fantasy has the special quality of taking our world and turning it so that a reader can see it differently—like looking in a carnival mirror. Doing that gives the big questions more weight, questions like “What difference can one person make?” and “How are we all connected?” Fantasy makes finding those answers fun and exciting. He says he has also written a nonfiction book about amazing young people, about their courage and perseverance and hope.

Kingsbury introduces Anna, grade 4, telling Barron today is Anna’s birthday, to which Barron responds with good wishes. Her question is, “What motivated you to be a writer?”

Three reasons, says Barron. First, he has loved reading and hearing stories since he was very young, and “If you love something, you keep it in your world.” Second, it’s the best way to travel. You can go anywhere in time or space. Lastly, there’s always more to learn. “I only know a teeny bit about telling stories,” he says, “and writing is a great way to grow.”

Fifth-grader Avery likes fantasy and wants to know if “The Lost Years” is the first in the Merlin series. Barron says it was, but now that he has written “the back story” in his new book, “Giant” is the first. Johan, also a fifth-grader, writes poetry, and wants to know what Barron’s next book will be. With a laugh, Barron replies, “I hope it’s ‘The Making of the Merlin Movie,'” a reference to Disney’s production now in the works. He says the real answer to the question is “top secret.” He asks Johan if he doesn’t agree that poetry is so powerful because there’s so much meaning in a single phrase. Johan nods.

Time’s up

“How do you make characters?” asks Annabelle, who is in grade 4. Barron says he starts with a physical description. Then he goes “inside” to the emotions. He asks his characters what their greatest wish is, their greatest fear. “Then …,” he pauses, addressing the whole group. “I don’t tell this to everyone. Do you want me to tell you?” To a chorus of “Yes!” he says teasingly, “No, you don’t really want to know. Raise your hand if you do.” All hands shoot into the air. He smiles broadly. “OK. I ask them, ‘What is your deepest secret?’ I get amazing answers from my characters.” You need to make characters that are true and authentic, who “walk off the page.”

In answer to fourth-grader Emily’s question about the events in the Atlantis saga, Barron says he took the old myth and imagined what happened before the story it tells. But he had to be consistent with the details of the myth itself. The same is true for the Merlin stories.

Time is up—time that Barron has given generously in response to Kingsbury’s invitation. He smiles broadly at his audience, a smile that goes to his eyes. “Thank you. You have inspired me with your curiosity. Keep reading, imagining, and writing. Have fun telling your own stories.”

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How I Use Storytelling to Build Environmental Awareness

As a storyteller, I believe that tales possess an uncanny ability to stir the soul and inspire within us the drive to make positive changes in our lives. I find this to be particularly true when it comes to environmental issues, something I’ve always been passionate about — and especially now, as conservation efforts are more critical than ever before. In my fantasy books, I strive to weave in environmental themes that encourage readers to think about the world around them and their role in preserving it. 

On this Earth Day, I want to reflect on the messages behind my writing and the importance of building environmental awareness through storytelling.

From Inspiration to Action

Growing up in Colorado, I was fortunate to be surrounded by stunning natural beauty. The snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains and the shimmering blue waters of the many lakes and rivers never failed to remind me of nature’s incredible power and the majesty of the natural world. This appreciation for nature ultimately inspired me to become a conservationist and author. 

In my books, I try to capture the same sense of awe and reverence that I felt as a child exploring the mountains and forests of Colorado. But I also want to do more than just inspire a sense of wonder — I want to challenge readers to think about their impact on the world and consider how they can help protect it. 

After all, nature is magical! Think about it: The seed that sprouts after a long winter grows into a sapling and eventually into a majestic tree with hundreds or thousands more seeds. That’s magic. The marvelous light that sparkles on the wings of a Morpho butterfly. The love that blossoms between two people. The incredible power of human minds and the sheer diversity of life that has evolved on our planet. The indescribably complex patterns and connections that form our universe. All this immense magic surrounds us every day, all the time, in our lives.

We all know our planet is in trouble, largely due to human activity. We have problems with our climate, with deforestation, with the oceans, and with our fellow creatures. These issues have spiraled into two colossal crises: One is the climate change crisis, and we need to get our arms around that and be more responsible about how we use energy and where we save energy. And then the biodiversity crisis, where way too many species, too many of our fellow creatures on our home planet, are in trouble and could go extinct forever.

So how do we encourage others to think about that, to increase environmental awareness? We need to tell better stories about the Earth and our place in it.

Raising Environmental Awareness Through Fantasy Stories

There are many different ways to weave environmental themes into fantasy literature. One of the ways I do this is by creating fantastical worlds that intimately connect to the natural world. In The Merlin Saga, for example, the magical isle of Fincayra is a place of incredible natural beauty, where the forests are alive with magical creatures and the seas are teeming with life. But this beauty is also fragile, and the forces of darkness threaten to destroy it. Through my characters’ struggles, I convey the message that we have a responsibility to protect the natural world, even when it means standing up to powerful forces. 

In my book, The Ancient One, I take a slightly different approach. The story takes place in Oregon, where a young girl named Kate has her plans disrupted by the discovery of a grove of giant redwood trees in nearby Lost Crater. Caught up in the fight to protect the forest from loggers, Kate finds herself thrown back in time five hundred years, where she must confront the evil creature Gashra, who seeks to destroy the same forest. Through her extraordinary journey, Kate discovers that all living things connect in ways she never expected. I hope Kate’s adventures show readers that even the most unlikely heroes can make a difference when they are motivated by a deep respect for the natural world. 

Heartlight explores the idea of interconnectedness, showing how the actions of one individual can have a profound impact on the world around them. Through the characters’ interactions with the natural world, I try to convey the message that we are all part of a larger ecosystem — and that our choices have real-world consequences.

Environmental Awareness as a Responsibility

I believe that it is my responsibility as a storyteller to use my voice — my words — to raise awareness about the importance of taking care of this home planet of ours. But I also believe it is vital to do so in a way that is engaging and entertaining for readers. After all, the best stories are the ones that stick with us long after we’ve finished reading them.

I am still optimistic about our wonderful planet because of my faith in human ingenuity and imagination, and also in young people. Young people really get this. They understand that the peril we are in is human-created — and that solutions can also be human-created. Plus, I have an enduring faith in the resilience of nature. If we can just give nature enough space, just give her room, she can adapt.

As we celebrate Earth Day, I urge readers to take a moment to reflect on the beauty and wonder of our environment. But I also encourage you to consider your own impact on the environment and to think about the ways in which you can help protect it. Whether it’s reducing your carbon footprint, supporting conservation efforts, or simply taking the time to appreciate the natural world around you, there are many small steps that we can all take to make a difference.

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Questions from Readers About Merlin

When I began my magical journey with Merlin many years ago, I had no way of knowing that the world would be as intrigued and enthralled by his origin story as I was.

I hoped, of course, that it would resonate with readers and draw each of you into the labyrinthine journey with me, but I truly didn’t fully understand the impact that the story of his boyhood adventures and self-discovery would have on so many people. I believe it is his relatability, the manner in which we all discern fragments of ourselves in his moments of vulnerability, and his fortitude in rising above adversity, that connects us so strongly to his tale. 

We all want to believe that magic and miracles can (and sometimes do!) win in the end.

Even as his stories have taken us through many lands and 13 full-length novels, I still receive so many questions about Merlin, my experiences with him, and the elements of his story that still seem unfinished.

 

Questions We All Have About Merlin and His Magic

 

It seems natural that since I’ve written many books about Merlin (and I’m also working on Merlin: The Movie!), you all have many questions for me about Merlin and his magic. I love answering your questions, so here are some of the best answers I can give about Merlin and my relationship with the Great Wizard.

Q. Why did you choose to write about Merlin?

A. More than anything else, it’s Merlin’s love of Nature. As he learns the language of trees and rivers, flies as a hawk, hears the rumbling voices of ancient stones, and runs gracefully with the deer he discovers that Nature is his best friend. His true healer. His ultimate source of magic and inspiration.

Q. Are you going to write more about Merlin?

A. Merlin and I have had a great long journey together (more than 25 years!). With lots of help from the wizard and his friends like Rhia, Shim, and Basil, I have written The Lost Years of Merlin epic, the Merlin’s Dragon trilogy, The Great Tree of Avalon trilogy, and GIANT — along with an illustrated compendium that was published in 2011 — totaling 13 books set in Merlin’s magical worlds.

If anyone had ever told me, way back when it all began with a dream about a strange boy who washed ashore, that the journey would lead to all these adventures, plus international editions and excitement about a movie, I wouldn’t have believed it! (Then again, who would believe that that young boy would become the greatest wizard of all time? Or that a bizarre creature as tiny as Basil would become Avalon’s most powerful dragon and Merlin’s best friend?)

Q. What is the greatest lesson you’ve learned from Merlin?

A. That his journey is one anybody can share. All of us feel washed ashore at times. And yet all of us have some magic down inside ourselves—magic that we, too, can share with the world.

Q. We’ve heard so much about the movie. Do you know when we will finally get to see it?

A. I wish I did! The movie creation process is an intricate one that I still don’t fully understand, but I do know that a lot of work is being put into the film and telling Merlin’s story in a way we will all be proud of.

Q. Was Merlin real?

A. I don’t think it really matters whether Arthur and Merlin actually lived — because they are so totally alive now, in the hearts and minds of so many. All around the world, people cherish their stories! And if that’s not alive, what is?

Q. Is magic real?

A. Yes! In the realm of the spirit, anything is possible. Every person has great potential, great gifts, down inside themselves — no less than Merlin.

When it looked like only Merlin could provide answers to the questions that my readers had, it only seemed logical that I would reach out to this dear friend of mine to share a bit of his wisdom!

Merlin Answers Your Questions

My goodness! When my good friend T. A. Barron told me that he had recently gathered several questions for me from around the world, I never expected quite such an overwhelming number. I must tell you all that it has been truly delightful to read your many queries; some of you are so curious, it puts me in mind of myself when I was a boy. Sadly, it’s beyond my powers to answer every single one; predicting winning lottery numbers isn’t really the domain of a wizard — a fact which I have found decidedly inconvenient on more than one occasion. But I did read several thoughtful entries, which I will answer as best I can for you now.

Q. What does magic feel like from inside?

A. Magic feels like an inner rain shower, rising from some mysterious place inside me and powered by winds from nature all around. As soon as I release the magic, the rain transforms into light that illuminates my entire being.

Q. If you were ever given the chance to turn back Time and do everything over again, with the chance of correcting any regrettable mistakes, . . . Would you?

A. Although turning back Time is highly dangerous and fraught with risk…I confess that I couldn’t resist doing it to fix some of my worst mistakes. I’m just human enough to want desperately to make things right, whatever the cost. If I could only change one thing, I would have acted faster to save the love of my life, Hallia, who heroically sacrificed herself to save my miserable life. (That sad story is told in the final book of The Great Tree of Avalon trilogy, The Eternal Flame, which is Book 11 of The Merlin Saga.)

Q. In the solitude of the Crystal cave, while reflecting, what was the one regret that shaped your story the most?

A. Ah, regret. The most piercing sword blade of all! Although my life has been full of many more blessings than regrets… the one sadness that hurts the most is that it took me until my father’s dying breath to forgive him. While he had done many terrible things in his life – to me, my mother Elen, and our beloved magical isle of Fincayra – he still possessed some goodness down inside. Although that goodness was buried several layers deep under great pain and brutality, he found it at the very end when he courageously saved Elen’s life and finally redeemed himself.

Q. What do the animals know that we don’t?

A. Animals know how to be completely and contentedly present in every moment. That shows enormous wisdom. I strive to be so fully present, so fully alive, every day of my life.

Q. If evil forces were to totally control magic, would you be able to or willing to destroy all magic to keep the world in balance?

A. This is, perhaps, the most difficult question of all. To tell you the truth, as much as I would agonize over the answer, I simply could not bring myself to destroy all magic! Instead, I would place my faith in the possibility that somewhere in those evil forces would arise a person with the love and wisdom to return magic to the good. (And just to make sure…I would also hide several bits of powerful magic in the most unlikely places. This magic would lie in wait – for ages if necessary – until that person came along to discover it.)

Q. How does one get to your level of understanding of humanity, nature, compassion and the things that really matter?

A. All I really know, even after all these centuries, is how much more I have to learn. I do believe that true wisdom comes from something deeper than magic. It comes from living a life fully open to the miracles all around us. And from drinking as often as possible from the wells of gratitude, humility, courage, perseverance, humor, knowledge, wonder, belief, generosity, compassion, and love.

In addition, I will tell you that nature has always been my truest source of wisdom. Wild nature has the unique power of making us feel both very small and very large at once – humbled as well as inspired. In nature, we can be dwarfed by the grand sweep of the stars or oceans or mountains, and yet still be part of it all—connected to the changing seasons, the tracks of a fox, the birth of a sapling, and the flight of geese. So we may be a very small part of the universe—but we are still very much part of it, enhanced by all that grandeur and mystery.

Q. How can I see beyond the physical world to see the beauty you saw without your eyes? That is, how can one survive in the darkest of times?

A. You must strive to see not with your eyes, but with your heart. When I rushed into that blaze to save my mother’s life, I was powered by my deep love for her. And when I endured those terrible days of suffering and blindness, I was saved by a tiny sprig of hope that was even then still growing in my soul. When my magical sight took hold, it enabled me forever after to see not just the surface of things, but what lies beneath the surface – the underlying truth, the hidden magic.

Q. Does a great wizard such as yourself have the power to solve the world’s problems? And if you did, would you do that? And if you wouldn’t do that, why?

A. As tempting as it would be to solve the world’s problems (and it is hugely tempting!), I would refrain from doing so. The reason? Humanity will never truly grow unless they can learn to use their marvelous power of free will. They must discover they have the true power of choice — even if that means sometimes making some horrible and destructive choices. If humanity can grow in the ways they must to live in a peaceful and sustainable world, that will be more powerful than the magic of a million wizards!

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Magical Origin Stories, Written by Readers

Exploring stories of untold beginnings has always appealed to me as a writer. The Merlin Saga began after I wondered about the early life of the man who became the wise and powerful old wizard we know so well from the tales of Arthurian legend. And instead of focusing solely on the mystery of the magical island’s disappearance, The Atlantis Saga begins by imagining what may have happened to trigger its creation.

With this in mind, I recently invited fans of my books to dig deep into their imaginations and write their own origin stories for any character from one of my books. The results were simply fantastic! Of course, I knew my fans were a talented bunch, but their creativity and enthusiasm for these characters and their stories was a joy to read. It is my great pleasure to share some my favorite stories with you.

Magical Origin Stories, Written by Readers

The loyal and fierce Trouble is one of the companions of Merlin who is most beloved by fans of The Merlin Saga. Alexandra L. shared this entry outlining the early life of Merlin’s feathered companion, who first appears in MERLIN: The Lost Years (Book 1 of The Merlin Saga).

Early Trouble

As the life of Druma Wood began a semi-silent vigil for the farewell of the day, a new life was welcomed. Eywak’s trained eye watched unblinkingly as the small life made the first dent on the shell. The blue bill struggled valiantly, as if determined not to spend another anxious moment away from this splendid world. At last, the fledgling emerged from the shell, everything in perfect condition.

After naming her youngest Rywan, which in the language of wind meant ‘true spirit,’ Eywak turned to his shell and read. She shuffled her wings nervously. Along the inside of the shell were the lines of a short yet very defined life, it spoke of fierceness, and a loyalty that never faltered even in dire moments. Through time, his troublesome nature would deem him another name. The falling sun and shell spoke of all things that were yet to pass.

But for now, he was just a young hatchling catching his first sunset learning to listen to the wind. And like all young hatchlings….he was hungry.

Being the youngest of his clutch of fledglings had its advantages such as being guaranteed the warmest spot under their mother’s wing each night. It also had its disadvantages. Whenever his parents set out to bring food or scout the area, Rywan was left unprotected, and being the smallest of the trio, became the main source of entertainment. The older fledglings chased him around in their small nest and pretend he was prey. Rywan, already feisty by nature, learned to channel his warrior spirit or faced being sat on and pecked until his parents returned, which had happened one too many times.

Now, feeling quite bold at three weeks old, Rywan screeched a particularly rude phrase at the eldest fledgling that would have gotten him pecked by his mother and earned an approving chirp from his father. Shocked, the elder of the trio screeched back, and so they engaged, until Rywan charged. He jumped, flapping his wings eagerly, ready to land on the edge of the nest.

Except something curious happened.

The world suddenly became a blur of colors. He was falling! Branches swayed, trying to slow the little ones fall until….thump! A dazed fledgling, otherwise unharmed, landed on pile of vivid green leaves. Feeling even smaller than he ever had before, Rywan chirped quietly, but all that answered back was the swaying of the mighty branches around him. He continued chirping anxiously until he heard a scuttle. A pair of beady eyes surveyed the scrawny looking bird. Not enough for a meal, but a snack would do.

As the creature slinked from the foliage, Rywan’s heart fluttered. This looked like a rat that had once come near their nest. His mother constantly warned the fledglings about the dangers of rats, only to quickly reassure them that she’d keep them safe. But she was not here now. No one was here. Rywan, very much alone and helpless, froze with fear as the rodent approached.

Then, the wind blew softly through the forest floor. Rywan’s screeched with fierce determination; the spirit of the wind gave him courage. As the rat leaped, Rywan leapt higher knocking the rat with the wings he had yet to fully master. The rat, now annoyed at losing the prospect of an easy meal, attacked only to be met by Rywan’s claws. A matter of minutes seemed like an eternity to the little warrior before two familiar screeches resounded through the battlefield. In a blur, his mother finished off the enemy while his father struggled to carry his youngest back up to the safe nest.

Throughout the evening, while his mother kept chirping about his troublesome nature, Rywan felt like a seasoned warrior. Never again was he prey to his other nest mates for he had learned that size was certainly no measure for all the great things his young life could accomplish. That and he would never pass up an opportunity to challenge a rat.

The following summer, Druma Wood was a place of pure poetic motion. The land swayed with illuminating shades of vivid greens and yellows, and the sky danced on blue, violet, and orange wings. On one peaceful day, the wind called to Rywan and set him on course to the silvery edge of the Druma Wood. This would be a journey far greater than any, where a destined meeting would take place, and a series of magical adventures, awaited.

You might remember Bumblewy as the desperately un-funny jester who appears in Book 2 of The Merlin Saga; Bryan B. tells a story of what may have happened before he encountered the wizard:

The streets of Caer Neithan jingled with festivities as Bumbelwy ambled along on his not-so-merry way. Sure, the Town of Bards always bustled with music and song, but today proved to be different. Today was the first day of Summer. Bards from all over came to Caer Neithan for this special occasion, multiplying the usual melodies and rhythms tenfold.

It only gave Bumbelwy a headache.

He never cared much for how shiny the bells were on his hat, or how many balls he could juggle at once. He wanted something grander than those foolish things! He wanted to captivate his audience with laughter! Keep them on the edge of their seats, waiting for the punchlines and the rhymes. And after the show, they would make their way home and remember his words, and the wisdom he’d injected into his wits.

Oh, to inspire the masses with laughter!

His fellow bards and jesters sneered at his idea. When his neighbors complained that he scared the birds away with his voice, he would only retort, “I blew them away with a magical performance!”

Nothing could stop him from attaining his goal of becoming a great bard. Nay, the greatest bard!

This goal had brought him out of hiding on the high holiday of cheer and festivities. He sought an audience.

At the town square, Bumbelwy managed to squeeze in between two jesters throwing balls to one another. Under an arch of a blur of red and blue balls, Bumbelwy crafted his stage.

He ran his fingers down his lute, plucking at the strings. Not completely in tune, but close enough for him. When he cleared his throat, he almost choked on his own saliva.

“Here ye! Here ye!” he wailed. “All be joyful and have some cheer! The jester is here!”

One person clapped. Once. Or perhaps they swatted at a fly. No matter, Bumbelwy took no notice. He lifted his lute. Dramatic pause. Then, the story began.

Oh, little flower No one has watered you for days, Your pastel pink has gone to gray. Why have they forgotten, why do you think? Could it be, in truth, that you stink?

The last note lingered, resonating under the incessant pattering of the juggler’s balls. Bumbelwy’s eyes remained shut as he basked in the overwhelming rush of emotions of his song. Such profundity! Such humor! The wave of laughter, oohs, and ahhs, was only a moment away, he was sure of it.

The onlookers shuffled their feet. One of them coughed.

Something struck Bumbelwy upside the head, and he almost lost his balance. A red juggling ball slapped the dirt near his left foot.

“Sorry, it slipped,” the juggler muttered as he retrieved his ball. He added hesitantly, “Um, I don’t think they liked that one, sir.”

Indeed, it appeared so. He only received blank stares and a rotting tomato that was fortunately horribly misaimed.

Disheartened, Bumbelwy only slumped away.

Did no one like his stories? It seemed hardly a likely possibility. Surely there was some merit deep down in his stories!

“You!” a voice cried out. Bumbelwy glanced to see a bard leaning in the doorway of the inn. He did a double take when he realized who had spoken to him.

“Taliesin?” Bumbelwy blushed. The most famous of all bards in the land. The man had so many stories, it was said that he had stolen from a witch a magical potion that gave him the ability to see into the past and future.

“Bumbelwy, don’t be disheartened by the audiences. They are always hard to please,” Taliesin told him.

“Too true, too true, too true,” Bumbelwy muttered. “Would you tell me something, Mister Bard?”

Taliesin shrugged. “I can tell you many somethings.”

“You can see the future . . . will I make a single person laugh in my life?” Taliesin simply cleared his throat and recited a mysterious verse:

I have been a sword in the grasp of a hand, I have been a friend that you’ll need, I have been a worm in a cave, And you . . . well . . .

Taliesin took a step forward and placed a hand on Bumbelwy’s shoulder. “You shall see.” With that, Taliesin vanished into the inn, leaving Bumbelwy without an answer.

“What does that mean?” Bumbelwy asked himself. “You shall see.” See what?

He may have left him without an answer, but what Taliesin gave him was worth more. He had left him with inspiration.

“Or . . . was that a warning?” Bumbelwy mused as he headed home.

If you’re a fan of The Merlin Saga, you’ll know Rhia is a major character who first appears in Book 1, and who continues to be a main character from Fincayra to Avalon. In her story, Hannah S. imagines the answer to a fundamental mystery: How did Rhia become separated from her family, and what first drew her to Druma Wood and her home in the great tree Arbassa?

The game had gone horribly wrong somehow! They were only playing hide and seek, though they were nearer the woods than Mother would have liked. But how was that any different than playing in a large castle where one could still easily get lost?

Little Rhiannon sat huddled behind a bush, her lip beginning to quiver as tears simultaneously welled in her eyes. It was getting dark, and she hadn’t heard or seen anyone come near her. Where was that brother of hers? Rhiannon’s thoughts then turned to her mother–oh, how she wanted her now! Immediately, the idea came to go looking for her lost family. Summoning all the courage she could muster, Rhiannon stood up and walked a few cautious steps from her hiding place. Her blue-gray eyes darted in every direction, and saw nothing but trees and darkness.

Suddenly feeling very alone, Rhiannon whimpered. Shadowy figures seemed to loom all around her, and the mysterious noises of the night now reached her ear. Uttering a small cry of fright, the child dashed away as fast as her little feet could carry her. She had no concept of where she was going, but she hoped desperately to see the end of the forest and a clearing toward home. On and on she ran, her tight curls bouncing wildly, only to finally collapse in a pile of leaves. Tears now streamed down Rhiannon’s cheeks, and if anything, her sobs drowned out any other noise she might have heard. Within minutes, she fell asleep from emotional and physical exhaustion.

It was daytime when Rhiannon awoke, though the dense trees of the Druma Wood hardly let in any sunlight. Rubbing her reddened eyes, Rhiannon once again surveyed her surroundings. It all looked exactly the same to her, with one exception. Before her stood a mighty oak tree that could have held three smaller trees in its trunk! A canopy of branches extended beyond and over the little girl, as if they were welcoming and open arms. Gaping slightly (a habit of which Mother wouldn’t approve), Rhiannon stood erect before the tree and widened her arms as well. With arms raised she studied this immense oak, and as she did, a sense of peace and safety overwhelmed her.

A soft breeze suddenly rustled the tree’s leaves, and as Rhiannon listened, she heard a sound–no a voice–within the wind. It said, “Arbaasssaaa…Arbaasssaaa…“

Rhiannon smiled. Something inside told her the tree was speaking to her, even introducing itself. She pointed to herself and responded. “Rhiannon.”

Silence. Disappointed, Rhiannon dropped her arms and hung her head; even her curls seemed to droop! But just as she was losing hope, the breeze blew again and she once more heard the voice, only this time it said, “Rhiiiaaa…Rhiiiaaa…“

Rhia laughed, the sound ringing like bells throughout the Druma Wood. She opened her arms once more and cried, “Arbassa!”

In Tree Girl, young Rowanna lives in a cottage by the seaside but longs to see the great forest, and especially the mysterious High Willow tree, which sits on a faraway hill. In her story, Charlotte M. writes from the perspective of one of Rowanna’s animal friends, just before their first encounter:

Eagle’s Beginning

The softness of mother’s feathers is all around me, warm and dry and safe high up in the big tree by the sea. I push my head through mother’s down to peer over the edge of the nest at all that happens below. Someday I will spread my wings and fly like the gulls. I will fight great battles and conquer monster fish. A branch comes to tickle my scrawny breast feathers, as if the tree could hear my thoughts. He is always teasing, this tree. I snap my beak at him, furious that he should be mocking me, the fiercest of warrior birds. The breeze that rustles his needles sounds like laughter. I squawk at him, struggling to hop out of the nest and show him what I’m made of. Mother gently tucks me back into the fold of her wing, trying to soothe my righteous rage. I calm, but this is one fight that I’ll come back to. No one mocks me and gets away with it, not bird, not sea, and certainly not tree. Mother settles over me as the great big orange sun dips into the waves. Her feathers ripple like the sea as the wind picks up. I’m not afraid, but I know she is. I can feel her heart beating faster. There’s something wrong with the air. The usual tang of salt and fish is stronger, mixed with—with a smell I haven’t smelled before. When I ask mother, she doesn’t answer, fluffing up against the gusts. I tuck my head under my own wing, trying to go to sleep. In the morning all will be well. She will bring me a delicious breakfast of mashed worm, and the sun will shine again. I have not been on this earth long, and already I know the dawn brings with it a new warmth, inside and out.

A fierce cold burst of wind wakes me in the darkness. I lift my head, calling for mother, but she does not come. The gusts are brutal now, shaking the whole tree, sending his needles flying. Again I cheeyup in panic, crying for her. I dig my sharp claws deep into the thatch and seaweed nest, hanging on for dear life. A terrible blast dislodges the nest beneath me, sending me spinning through the air. If I could fly away, I might be able to find shelter, but my wings are too small, too fragile. I squeeze my eyes shut, trembling, helpless. Pain rips through me, bending one of my wings in half as the wind slams me hard against the stone wall of the humans’ nest. Darkness covers my mind like a cloud over the sun. Every tiny bone in me hurts. Sleep is such a relief. Mother—I manage to call one last time, where are you? I think I see the spirit of the tree—an old man with a beard—detach from the trunk to cup me in his rough bark hands, to lift me up and place me somewhere safe.

Yellow sunlight burns my eyes as I crack them open. I can barely lift my head to peer out at the world. Mother has not come back. Still I call for her, loud as I can, which isn’t much. Cheeyup. A new sound reaches me. A voice like a bird’s, but not. Cheeyup. A singing voice. Cheeyup. The steady patter of footsteps drawing closer. A shadow blocks the sun, a friendly freckled girl face peering over the edge of the nest at me. Frightened, I nip at her fingers as she reaches for me. Soft hands enclose me, slipping me into a warm place. I can feel her strong heart beating, soothing. My fear fades. The girl smells of sea and fish and tree. She smells of life. I am Eagle, fierce warrior. Someday I will fly. Until then, I will protect new mother with all my strength.

The background of the bumbling, plaintive jester who appears in MERLIN: The Seven Songs was a popular subject for fans. In his story, Dan T. imagines how the fellow ironically known as “Bumblewy the Mirthful” may have got his start:

A Child’s Choice

” . . . But what about magic, and dreams? Or even just not having to struggle for food?”

“You’re a real jester, Alfred,” Mrs. Bumblewy replied. “I swear, you’re destined to make people laugh. Every day it’s a new story. A different life, hope. Your father certainly never planted those ideas in your head. I wonder where you got them from.”

Alfred paused before answering, bobbing his bucket-shaped head in a curious fashion. “Books, I suppose.” His shoulders sagged beneath a short tunic. The tattered breeches he wore were his only additional clothes.

“Books are lies, and you’re an idiot,” Mrs. Bumblewy declared. “We’ve got a sick cow, dry dirt for a garden. Your father’s . . . don’t get me started on your father . . . and you’re talking about magic. Peddle your tales to Esma. Maybe then she’ll produce some milk.”

Mrs. Bumblewy stormed past the small bookshelf and out of the one room shack, shaking her head in a swift, jerking motion that caused her bun to unravel slightly. They did not even have a door anymore. One of the hinges broke last year, and instead of trying to mend it, Mrs. Bumblewy had ripped the other hinge off in a fit of rage and then flung the door onto the woodpile outside, where it still lay. Alfred would have fixed it, he was rather good with his hands, but he liked the unimpeded sound and smell of the rain. That is, when the rain came, which was not very often this summer.

Alfred’s freakishly bushy eyebrows frowned, an expression that did not quite reach his lips. His chin was shaped like an old sagging apple and there was something abnormally fleshy about his neck. He absently fingered the small knife in his boot, thinking that maybe he could find some would to carve at the hemlock grove. He was capable of sculpting nearly anything, and in striking detail. His mother did not know it, but beneath the leaf and grass pallet he slept on in the corner of the shack, there was a collection of miniature animal figurines: squirrels, wolves, ducks, and other creatures, even a mermaid. He often fantasized that they would someday come to life and frolic with him in a pastoral paradise, somewhere far south, where he had heard the land was emerald green and fruit trees grew heavy all year round. But his mother was right. He was an idiot. Perhaps he was destined to be a foolish jester. Abruptly, his eyes brightened. At least jesters could still read books.

As he stepped out of the shack and into the hot reddish light, a bead of sweat slipped down his back. In all of his twelve years, he had never experienced such stifling heat, especially just after sunrise. Perhaps it was some sort of weather cycle he had heard that seed-selling otter talking about. Or maybe there was an evil force about that was compromising the land. Some of his books spoke of such things.

The dry plains to the south were a sickly orange color, dust rising through the red rays of the relentless sun. Esma, the emaciated cow, sniffed hopelessly at the ground. Mrs. Bumblewy was beating at the dead garden soil with a hoe, as though ferocity would force something to grow.

He rounded the shack to be out of his mother’s eyesight and sat down beside a frail oak tree whose leaves were drooping and browned. One grey sparrow sat in the branches, its ordinarily swift movements now lethargic as it turned its head dismally from side to side in a half-hearted search for a worm.

Everything appeared hopeless. Perhaps that was simply the way of things. The thought was strangely comforting and Alfred was inspired to begin singing. His monotonous, cracking voice sounded something like two stones rubbing.

“The sun is hot, and the ground is dry I wish I knew how not to cry”

The sparrow turned its head slowly toward the hideous noise, blinked its eyes once, and took off into the red sky. Watching it soar, Alfred attempted to smile but his lips trembled and ultimately settled into a frown.

“A Jester,” he muttered, bobbing his head. “Too true, too true.”

Merlin’s very first companion — Trouble — is one of the most beloved by readers of The Merlin Saga. Perhaps it’s because what the young bird lacked in size, he made up for with his deep loyalty to his wizard friend. In her story, set before the events of MERLIN: The Lost Years, Nicole B. imagines how the little bird had big things in his heart right from the beginning:

Trouble from the Start

Ever since the young merlin first poked his head through his shell, he was trouble. Loud and ever-demanding of his parents’ attention, much to his siblings’ annoyance, he more than once almost caused one of them to fall from the nest. Despite all this, his parents were quite proud of his brazen nature. His mother in particular knew that he was destined for great things, though she knew not just how great those things would be.

The troublesome bird was the first to attempt flight, as well as the first to succeed fully. And oh how he loved to fly. Even at that young age, he had a sense of adventure. Every time he took off from the nest, he felt something in his breast that seemed to call to him, telling him to fly far, far away to…somewhere. Some place where fate awaited him. His mother had to keep a close eye on him, otherwise he would have tried to fly halfway across Fincayra and no one would have known the better.

He was more than eager to leave the nest so when the time finally came, he needed no encouragement from his parents. He left just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. Soaring high in the sky, here at last the merlin truly felt free to follow that tugging in his heart. Swift as the wind, he flew farther than he had flown before. The lands that passed beneath him piqued his curiosity but the tugging sensation was incessant, thus he did not stop nor did he slow down. For some reason he felt that he would be seeing these lands again before too long, and he would not be alone. The idea of this comforted him yet excited him more than ever, and so on he flew, towards his destiny.

Thank you to every single one of my fans who took the time to explore their imaginations and write the untold history of one of my characters. It is one of my greatest joys as a writer to be able to share the journeys of these characters with my readers, and it is deeply touching to me to see just how fully these origin stories have come alive for you all. I look forward to the next opportunity to read your amazing creative works!

I invite you to join me on social media for more opportunities to share writing ideas:

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Tips to Get Kids to Fall in Love with Reading

I’ve always been enamored with the power of reading. Ever since I was a young boy, books have been a constant source of wonder and adventure for me. I would lose myself in their pages, imagining myself as the hero and experiencing the story right alongside the characters. This love of reading has been the spark that ignited my passion for storytelling, and it is what drives me to this day. 

As a boy, I enjoyed reading the Greek and Norse myths; great sports stories; biographies of Abraham Lincoln, Helen Keller, and Albert Einstein; Anne Frank’s diary; books on moral philosophy by people like Socrates and John Stuart Mill; the poetry of Wordsworth, Frost, Keats, and Dickinson; and nature writing by Thoreau, Carlson, and Muir.

Those powerful stories are what have filled my life with so much joy and opportunity over the years. They’ve allowed me to travel to faraway places, literally and figuratively. They’ve brought so many wonderful and intriguing characters into my life, both real and imagined. And they’ve also given me perspective, inspiration, and hope at times when I’ve most needed it.

It’s a gift I wish I could impart to every young reader. In fact, the gift of a love for literature is one I find truly priceless!

If you have a youngster in your life who hasn’t quite found their happy place among books, here are some things that may help them fall in love with reading.

Tips to Get Kids to Fall in Love with Reading Give them literature-rich spaces to exist in.

When books are ever-present and readily accessible, your child will be more likely to explore the pages out of curiosity, and then, when they are able, start reading with vigor.

Fill their spaces with age-appropriate books of various genres, so they’re used to interacting with both fictional and informational texts. Also, consider swapping the books out or moving them around from time to time as something new may catch your child’s attention and inspire.

 

Read to them.

 

Reading books aloud to your child is a wonderful and meaningful experience for you and your child. Beyond the joy you’ll feel from spending time together, it’s also an incredibly important step in helping your child discover the magic of reading. Long before they can read on their own, young minds will become captivated by enticing stories. When reading is woven into the tapestry of your daily rituals, be it sharing a chapter or two before falling asleep or telling stories around the breakfast table, your children may connect those stories and the act of reading with fond memories. These times together will help give them a love for the written word and a willingness to delve into books on their own when the time is right.

 

Be a reading role model.

 

Tell your children about the stories you’re reading. When they witness your delight in the stories you read, and the passion you have for them, they will be more inclined to discover the joy of literature and books themselves.

 

Visit the library.

 

Libraries are a treasure trove of books, and they are often free to use. Take your kids to the library and let them explore the shelves and find books that interest them. Libraries often have Storytimes, events where a librarian or volunteer (sometimes even authors themselves!) will read stories aloud to a big group. These are fun, often interactive, experiences where children can see other kids enjoying books, words, rhymes, songs, and more – and can help spark a lifetime love of books.

 

Don’t let it become a chore.

 

Reading and reveling in tales should never be a burden! Our goal is to inspire in our young ones a love of the power of words and the emotions they evoke. To do so, we must create a joyful, enriching, and captivating atmosphere around books, where families can come together in comfort and support. The experience should be one of magic and wonderment, rather than responsibility, in order to foster and perpetuate positivity around reading.

 

Celebrate their reading milestones.

 

When your child finishes a book, celebrate with them! Whether it’s taking them out for a special treat, giving them a special book, or simply acknowledging their accomplishment, these small celebrations help make reading a positive experience.

 

Think outside the box.

 

Creating a love of reading can be fun! It definitely shouldn’t be a mundane task, but rather an adventure waiting to unfold. Imagine the giggles that come from playing word games, composing silly poems, spinning tales of merriment, composing melodies, bringing stories to life through images and gestures, performing scenes from a beloved book… the possibilities are endless! By making books an interactive and lively experience, you’ll show your children the vast wonders that await within the pages, and ignite in them a passion for reading that will guide them on a journey of discovery for a lifetime.

 

Reading is one of the most important skills a child can learn, and it opens up a world of possibilities. With a little effort and creativity, you can help your kids fall in love with reading and set them on a path to a lifetime of learning and adventure.

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Lessons I Learned from Merlin

I have spent many, many years immersed in the life and world of Merlin.

It is a magical, beautiful place, but it is also a place that has taught me a myriad of lessons about life, love, and humanity within our own world. Merlin has been a source of inspiration for me to follow the path of hope. His wisdom, faith, and ability to dig deep and find the good in himself and others, even while facing personal struggles, encourage me to find the magic within to create a better life.

I hope you find some wisdom in these lessons, too.

 

No matter how small you are, you have the power to do good.

Merlin’s story reminds us again and again that no matter how small or powerless we may feel, we all have the ability to make a difference. It is through our own efforts, determination, and will that we can overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles, succeed in whatever we put our minds to, and change the world around us for the better.

In times of uncertainty, like those our world faces today — when chaos surrounds us, and we ache to make a difference — it’s important to remember that we have the power to act and change things.

 

Listen before you speak.

We can learn much from Merlin about respecting the opinions of others, the power of perspective, and the importance of personal growth. When you take a moment to listen to others, to truly hear what they’re saying, you not only show that you respect and care about their opinion, you also give yourself an opportunity to learn — about the person, about the situation, and even, sometimes, about yourself.

 

Humility may be your greatest power.

Prideful people often lack the ability to notice when they have more to learn, admit when they’re wrong, and accept help and guidance from those with more wisdom, strength, and experience.

Confidence is important, but it’s just as important to never trade humility for arrogance. Though we all aim to move toward enlightenment and deeper understanding, we all remain human and therefore, fallible — just like Merlin.

 

Cherish love and follow your heart.

Love is magical. In one or all of its varied forms, it’s a powerful emotion that has the ability to fill your heart, mind, and soul so completely that it truly feels like magic.

If you are open to love – if you allow it into your heart to guide you – it can lead you to places you wouldn’t otherwise have access to. It can open your mind to new experiences. It can show you things you’d easily overlook or dismiss without it.

Love inspires gratitude, requires courage, and encourages generosity. It is fueled by knowledge and belief, accessed through wonder, and kept alive by hope. It is through love that we are able to find the most meaningful ways to live a magical life.

 

Courage is what empowers us to follow our dreams.

Courage is what allows us to dream about who we can be and what we want for the world, and it gives us the strength to actually persevere and bring those dreams to life.

Without courage, I would never have fulfilled my dream of being a writer. I would never have shared Merlin with all of you. I would never have had the opportunity to tell my own story, or to encourage you to authentically live your own.

 

Curiosity is the gateway to knowledge.

As children, we are born with a drive to ask questions, to explore, to discover things about our world and the people that surround us. Children’s open minds mean that sometimes they think of questions that are both simple and deeply revealing — my own children would often ask me, “Dad, is that true?” That one simple question was often just what I needed to re-examine some of my own beliefs and look at things in a new way.

If you allow yourself to re-discover that childlike curiosity, it becomes like a key — a key that opens the doors leading to knowledge.

 

Make space for gratitude in your daily life.

In my own life, I look to nature. It is where I escape to find solace, to find comfort, to reach a place of peace where my mind is clear, and my heart is open. Nature causes me to feel both very small and very large at once — diminished and humbled by my own insignificance, while also enlarged and inspired by the vast sweep of creation.

It is alongside the vast ocean, gazing up at a star-filled sky, or surrounded by trees with hundreds of years of experience that I am able to put my gratitude into perspective and connect with my inner self in a way that brightly illuminates my blessings. The beauty and authenticity of the natural world help me truly open myself to gratitude and appreciate all the other gifts in my life.

I encourage you to find your “nature” — that special element or setting that focuses your mind and lightens your soul. It may be a place or an idea, or even another person, but it must be something you can always count on to uplift you, to intrigue you, and to invigorate your mind. It is within this context that I truly believe your gratitude can explode into something you can feel each day.

 

Leave room for doubt.

Our beliefs — whether they’re a belief in our own abilities, a belief in the nature of the world and the universe, or a belief in a higher power — guide us on our journey through life. They allow us to find meaning and purpose in uncertain situations and discover clarity among the muddled waters of our daily lives.

My very first manuscript was rejected everywhere. Although it was no fun to receive all those rejections, I’ve now come to feel grateful for that experience. Even though every one of those “no, thank you” letters hurt, and filled me with doubt about my ability as a writer, they drove me to realize my true passion was writing — even if it did take me several years to try again.

Doubt is what spurs us to look deeper, to seek further, and bravely question (and then strengthen) our purpose — so that we may rise to whatever challenges we may face.

 

Live your life as a story.

Always remember that you are writing your own unique story – which means you get to make it the best story possible!

I see this as a gift and an opportunity. I’ve always been highly motivated to use my life to the fullest, to really grow in all of the ways I can grow. Stretching your wings to fly gives you the opportunity to live fully, even if you have to crash and burn a few times along the way.

At the end of the day, all we have is our time and our souls so we owe it to ourselves to make the most of them as we tell our stories with passion, honesty, and joy.

 

We’re all in this together.

At the end of the day, none of us is an island. What we do, how we think, and how we live… all of it has an impact on others — our friends and family, other parts of our community, other creatures, our country, and our planet. We, as humans, require interaction and interdependence to survive, and just as recognizing the connectedness of things was an important part of Merlin’s journey, it must also be for us in order to create a better world for all.

To live your best life — and help others live theirs — understand that your actions have consequences. Understand that your words have power. Appreciate that you have shoulders to lean on and that, at times, others will need to lean on you.

What has Merlin taught you along this magical journey?

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How Nature Inspires Us: A Collection of Blogs from Readers

While hiking in California some years ago, I found the most magnificent tree I’d ever seen—a redwood of such grandeur that I nearly fell over backward trying to see its highest boughs. As I came closer, the smell of its resins enveloped me, and when I ran my hand across the deep creases of its bark, it was almost like touching the face of an old friend. Caught by the tree’s magic, I lingered in that grove for the rest of the day. At sunset, I still wasn’t ready to leave.

I hadn’t expected to camp out and hadn’t brought a sleeping bag or food, but I stayed the night anyway. Snuggled against the ancient tree’s gnarled trunk, I listened to its swaying, creaking, and — I felt sure — breathing. Whether or not I slept that night, I don’t remember. But I do remember feeling an extraordinary sense of peace as I wondered what amazing stories this two-thousand-year-old tree could tell, what rich wisdom it could share. I knew I wanted to open myself to that voice and to travel through time with this awesome companion. That night sowed the seeds that eventually blossomed into The Ancient One.

What are some moments when nature inspired you?

Back in 2016, to celebrate the reissue of The Ancient One, I invited my readers to share their own stories of times they have been inspired by nature. These are their experiences of being dazzled by the marvels of nature—and inspired by its wonders.

How Nature Inspires Us: A Collection of Blogs from Readers A Magical Nature Discovery

By Virginia Anagnos

I had just moved into a new neighborhood and was exploring it, when I noticed a fenced in area of trees that piqued my interest. I walked around the periphery until I came upon a sign that stated Oakland Lake. Skeptical, since the location was situated between a major road and parkway, I descended the stairs into the wooded area only to discover an oasis when I reached the bottom. The lake, which I soon discovered is a 15,000-year-old spring-fed glacial kettle pond, was surrounded by a forest of magnificent oak trees, beech trees, weeping willows and other tree species. It felt as if I was transported to another place.

The path around the lake meandered through forest, wetlands and open space. After a lap around the pond, I felt invigorated, but also calm and serene. Oakland Lake has since become my place of solace. I often go there to regain clarity, rejuvenate my spirit and recapture my sense of awe and wonder.

A Respite from the City

By Chelsey Saatkamp

Living in New York City, it can occasionally get depressing being surrounded by nothing but skyscrapers and dirty subways day after day. Luckily the city has a lot of parks scattered throughout, which are a lovely refuge whenever I can venture over to them. Central Park in particular is a wonder in the middle of the city, and even though you can see the skyscrapers surrounding its 843 acres, it’s is an essential refuge from the hustle and bustle of everyday life in New York. Reading a good book by the lake is an instant pick-me-up, better than any amount of food or sleep can provide.

 

 

 

 

Spring Renewal

By Joanne Fritz

After living in New York City for several years, surrounded by steel and glass and asphalt, cars and subways and people, I returned home to Pennsylvania in the middle of a long, cold winter. It was a difficult time; I was suffering from depression and had to find a new job, new apartment, new friends. Walking through the woods in early spring, I stepped over a fallen log and discovered, to my delight, these lovely bloodroot flowers. They looked fragile, yet had managed to push their way through layers of dead leaves in the search for warm sunlight.  I didn’t even know what they were called then, but I felt such a kinship with them, I had to take a picture. I enlarged and framed it and the photo still inspires me from the wall of my office decades later.

 

Visit Joanne’s blog at mybrainonbooks.blogspot.com.

A Breath of Fresh Air

By Bob Meadows

If I ever gave any thought to “nature” as a kid, it was only as far as the crabapple tree I loved to climb in my Detroit backyard. My mother’s dad, however, grew up in and around Wheeling, West Virginia, a place of mountains and greenery that stretched beyond the limits of my vision. He hunted and fished and every year he and his five siblings gathered their families for a reunion in Oglebay Park, a Wheeling landmark. My cousins and I—all of us inner-city kids from Detroit, Cleveland, Chicago—tore through the park with the unfettered rambunctiousness of youth. We roamed the hills, swam, climbed trees, skipped rocks, and breathed a type of air—fresh—that we never experienced back home. The lazy pace came to bore us as teenagers, but that feeling passed long ago. Now that we all have our own kids, we eagerly return every summer to Oglebay, reminiscing about the havoc we once wrought and watching the new generations of our family embrace a way of life that big cities just can’t touch.

A Space of My Own

By David Wiley

Sometimes when I am looking to be inspired for my writing I take no iPod or headphones and just run outside, letting my mind wander through scenes coming next in my story. I have fleshed out five or six chapters in a single run before, and when I sat down over the following sessions I knew exactly what to write and in which order to write it all out. This is still a method that works well for me, as running outdoors is a solitary task that allows me the time and space to think about the things I need to consider. It also distracts my mind from considering the strain I am placing on my body, allowing me to go longer and press a little harder than I might have been able to otherwise. Something about being out there among the natural world is exactly what my mind needs to come up with a trove of ideas.

My other source of inspiration simply involves getting out into nature. Unplugging from the computers and televisions and cell phones and other technological devices can be refreshing. It is a reminder that there is a world of beauty around me that I can immerse myself in, taking in the sights and sounds and smells on a nice hike. Green leaves budding overhead, branches swaying in the breeze, bushes rustling as the wind gusts through it, and catching sight of wildlife are all the perfect backdrop for writing inspiration. Plus I have a pretty epic destination to hike to that is relatively close to home. Who wouldn’t be inspired by climbing up to Clark’s Tower, which is basically a miniature castle tower? As a fantasy author, it is a perfect hike even though it is certainly no substitute for the real thing. But in Iowa it is as close as I can get to visiting the real thing, and it is enough.

The best thing about going into nature is not just the fact that it is the perfect place to get writing inspiration, but it is also refreshing the body, mind, and soul to spend some time away from the bustle of life and the constant connectedness of technology. It is the perfect way to spend part of my day, and something I plan to instill in all of my children as they grow older.

David Wiley is an author and avid reader. Read more at authordavidwiley.wordpress.com.

Conserving our Forests

By Kelly Cundiff

Nature inspires me so much- that I work alongside Smokey Bear to keep our forests safe and make sure that people are educated about the outdoors and safety! The Ancient One is the book that fueled my love of Nature, specifically Oregon—which is where I work for the USDA Forest Service! My love of nature, whether it be educating people about it, or rafting the McKenzie River, or climbing South Sister, keeps me humble, centered, and allows me to breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tranquility of Nature

By April Steichen

Nature allows me to think peaceful thoughts. Seeing something so gentle and delicate calms me, making me smile. God created this, and this is perfect. Nature inspires me to create something magical with my passion: filmmaking.  I am able to catch the smallest of details in nature that no one thinks to look twice at. I love smelling the fresh air, and seeing the flowers bloom in such detail. I feel warmth and passion while I’m in nature. It reminds me of reading. Reading helps us catch those small details that are easily passed up in everyday life.

The Healing Power of Nature

By Roshana Ostowari

Nature helps me connect to my true self. And what is my true self? Who am I? You see, my body might be 19, but how old am I really?

As old as stars, rolling waves and desert sand sifting gently through my fingers. As old as the trees, the yawning wind. Nature and I are one and the same. Therefore, being around nature helps me heal. It helps me shed my illusions, give up my pain. Nature shows me my true essence: pure unconditional love. A love that makes me smile with glee.

I am imagining now: digging my fingers into the dirt, smelling the raw scent of sand mixed with rain, running through the redwoods, looking up:   An ocean of green. Chirping birds. I close my eyes. I am in heaven. Nature is my heaven, and I can find it within my heart.

Nature helps me heal. Shows me my true self.

Who am I? Nature.

Beautiful Winter

By Maryam Karim

Beautiful winter. The healing power of snow.

A Dazzling Blossom

By Jerika McKeon

Nature’s Plastic

By Khephra Owl

Stone stairways smothered in moss fall from his fingertips on drops of ice water,
coagulating at his feet and reflecting the events of the day on his skin.
He is calm, the rain travelling in streaks across his forearms,
dripping off the tip of his nose,
creating dandelion-shaped stains in the front of his T-Shirt.
The sky is laid out as a sheet of liquid ash,
the evidence of the storm having parted
like the bead of an overripe blackberry.
Leaves cover the trail behind him,
bending into pointed curves,
shiny emerald,
nature’s plastic.
The soles of his Converse puncture the wet earth,
leaving shallow marks,
lines, circles, stars,
and a design that looks like a frowning face,
as if it’s in pain
every time he steps on it.
But he keeps walking
to nowhere in particular —
maybe to a friend’s house,
maybe home,
his body gliding over tiny streams
and bloodied worms.
Only his window holds the peace that rain brings,
pounding against the glass
as indifferent fists,
existing solely to remind him of their presence,
drifting into the ink of his subdued subconscious,
allowing him to sink away from responsibility.

Bathed in Light

By Ro Ostawari

Light filters through the river in winter.

Whispers of the Earth

By Susan Hawthorne

The whisper of the surf caressing the shore calls to me in an ancient tongue, The grandeur of the towering oak shelters me from the storm, The majestic mountains stand like great guardians on the horizon and beckon me, The infinite stars, sparkling against a blanket of blackness, assure me there is more, so much more…

 

 

Simple Beauty

By Helena Reznikoff

Nature inspires me with its vast complexities and artistry. Something as simple as tree bark is a true artistic masterpiece and it all makes you realize how much beauty you are continuously entrenched in.

The Mountains Saved Me

By Rene Crook

My name is Rene, and I am 25 years old. I’ve recently moved back to beautiful Colorado Springs, Colorado. Every day I walk out my front door and marvel at the beautiful peaks. Every sunrise, every sunset, all so breathtaking. You’d think seeing the same group of rocks every day would get old. But it’s really the same construction, painted differently every time you look at it.

So often I heard my friends talk about hiking up in the mountains, and I let my chronic illness hold me down. But I was introduced to this AMAZING woman who wouldn’t let that hold me down. A week later we were hiking up Mount Muscoco.

Me. Weak, scared little old me. Climbing a mountain. And suddenly, I didn’t feel so weak, anymore. I started dancing more, skating and bowling occasionally. I stopped cowering at many physical tasks I’d given up on. I laughed, climbed up rocks where the path had been washed out, and only wanted to go higher! Watching the sunrise spread across the mountains and color the city below was so inspiring. We went out so early the birds were still quiet, nestled down and sharing their warmth with their babies. Every step crunched and every step was me proving myself wrong. I could do this. And if I can climb mountains, what else can I do?

Those mountains didn’t only give me peace, but they awakened a strength in me I wasn’t sure existed, anymore. These mountains didn’t just inspire me. They saved me.

The Flexibility of Trees

By Joel Hoff

From a very early age I’ve held a fascination for nature. I was blessed with a family who loved to camp, hike, and travel as often as possible (finances and time allowing). Yet, it wasn’t until I was 12 years old, that that love for nature transformed into adoration and utmost respect. For, in my twelfth year I was honored with the privilege of checking out from my school library a book that has come to, in many ways, define the way I write, the way I think, the way I speak, and the way I have conducted myself over the last two decades (and more). That book was entitled, of course, The Lost Years of Merlin.

Even before Emrys begins his quest for truth, in the years he spent in Gwynedd, he values nature. Despite the vast scope of his journey to Fincayra in its entirety, and all that unfurls there, there is an event that takes place in chapter 3 that, when I read of its account, to this day continues to awe and inspire me.

Emrys, when fleeing the wrath of Dinatius, makes his way into a wooded grove. Fearing the older youth will quickly catch up to him, Emrys decides instead of continuing to run, he will make his way up the nearest tree. In doing so, Emrys escapes Dinatius (for the day). However, instead of climbing down, and heading back into the village, he decides to climb further up. I remember reading the account of Emrys’ deep thoughts as he sat within his perch, and his description of the beauty of his surroundings. I felt the same exhilaration as did young Emrys, as the higher he climbed, the higher my own spirit was lifted. Then came the rain and pummeling winds, sending even something as hardy and old as a tree a-sway… With a newfound and insatiable curiosity instilled in my twelve-year old heart, I knew this was something I just had to try it out for myself!

So it was, day after day I waited, looking to the skies for the perfect weather in which to ride out the storm. At long last there came an opportune moment, though once the thunder shook the earth, and radiant flashes of lightning lit the darkened skies every handful of minutes, I seriously began to rethink my plan. Nevertheless, I chose a tall pine as my perch and began to climb. Like Emrys, I climbed, and I climbed, and I continued to climb until at last I was as high as I could possibly (and safely) be. As the winds picked up, and blew against the tree’s trunk, I was absolutely amazed (and still am) at how incredibly flexible a tree could really be! Back and forth it vigorously swayed, giving me the unnerving feeling that I had to hang on tightly or suffer the consequences!

While the storm in Emrys’ case did eventually subside, my own storm lingered, forcing me to abandon my perch before I was met with any real danger. I remember walking inside, chilled to the bone and altogether soaked. But I was also refreshed and rejuvenated. There was something about a oneness with nature that was sensationally freeing, and it’s a feeling to this day I have not forgotten, nor do I think I ever could. I’ve been blessed with countless inspiring encounters with nature, for which I am thankful. But the moment when I, along with Emrys, rode out the storm so to speak, will remain the defining moment of my deep appreciation and love for something grandiose; something that is deserving of that appreciation and love.

Seeing the Impossible

By Paula Hardeman

The inspiration to see the impossible

Beautiful River

By Laurie Rudolph-Francis

1973 Beautiful Neva River in Budapest

Calm After the Storm

By Jasmine Hinton

The Ancient One, which I read in the fifth grade, was the first long chapter book I ever read. It was also the first book I loved, and propelled me into the world of storytelling and appreciating the magic within the pages. When I look at the sunrises, the trees against the light, the wind singing in the evenings and splashing fishes in the lakes, I remember this book.

Nature is such a wonder and we should always care for this amazing planet and the creatures that live on it. This photo was taken after the storm Goliath stranded my family and I in Texas. We were finally on out way home in the evening the next day when we saw this wonder.

All Good Things are Wild and Free

By Med Stansfield

An Uplifted Spirit

By Pam Spicer

Winter hiking in the bosque along the Rio Grande in Rio Rancho, NM is so relaxing and spiritually uplifting!

The Healing Power of Nature

By Terra Mcbroom

PTSD is one of the hardest things I have ever had to manage. I am not a soldier of war, but I am a victim of sexual assault and physical abuse. We live in such a cruel society and mental health can cost a great deal of income. However, the pangs of anxiety and depression were excruciating. Being a mom of three put me in a fight or flight state of consciousness. I couldn’t expect my four year old to understand a panic attack. So I fought for normalcy instead of just giving up. Gradually, the symptoms grew worse and I was becoming a ticking time bomb.

Then, there was the camping trip we took, June of 2015. By this time I was a wreck and I felt that everything was hopeless. Until, the beautiful getaway of the Appalachian foothills. I remember the first sign of peace. My husband started to make his way around the mountainous winding roads and suddenly nature unveiled herself before me in all of her natural beauty. Hundreds of butterflies fluttered and darted from one colorful wildflower to the next. The mountains stood tall and mighty in the distance. My heart warmed and for the first time in months, years, I smiled. I felt all tingly and liberated.

We continued our trek up the mountain roads and found our campsite. Nature had imprinted itself on my soul and I couldn’t let it go. That night as the sun set, and dusk swept across the campground, I had a delightful surprise. The trees began to blink. Thousands of little blinking lights filled the trees. Fireflies were out, dancing and twinkling like stars in the sky. The show was more then I had ever seen before. Very real, but magical like a fairy tale. Suddenly, from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head, I felt a heavy weight lift. I imagined it being carried away by the fire flies that danced around me. An over whelming peace consumed me and i became over flowed with tears of joy. Nature was my cure. I felt a real connection, a sense of real security. It was so much more than a pill. Nature brought my sanity back and it was pure and true.

Lift Your Gaze to the Skies

By Ren Breaux

Lift your gaze to the skies
Starlight floods across vast unknown
Cradled within tranquil shadows
A single burning entity
Illuminated within darkness
Ancient beauty frozen in time
Caught in a seemingly endless spell
When echoes are all that remain
Evanescence of life
Joining the embrace of night
Diminished into legend
Destined to follow ancestral passage
Whispered tales of creation from sisters light
Imprinted within eternity

Nature is one of my comforts and whenever I am immersed in it (particularly forests) I am inspired to create poetry…The night, the stars and nature are linked to my soul as I believe that they are linked to each other.

Lake Sunrise

By Therese Calegari

Sunrise over Lake Michigan in Hyde Park, Chicago. I half-expected Superman to emerge from an ice cave somewhere!

A Blessing of Butterflies

I was driving from Rockport TX on the gulf coast to Abilene TX in West Texas in early November a couple of years ago. I found myself driving into the monarch butterfly migration. The sky was full of them everywhere you looked. I drove for hours with them flying South all around me.

 

 

Forest Magic

By Michelle Richardson

We live in the Pacific Northwest and are blessed with an abundance of beautiful trees!

The Enchantment of Nature

By Zanna Tarlow

I’ve been fascinated by animals for as long as I can remember. For a few years, I desperately wanted to be a vet. Between a crummy biology teacher and a lack of love for science, it didn’t quite work out. I am, however, a dog trainer.

Perhaps the most clear ties I have to my love of nature is through my love of mythology. After all, what is mythology but an explanation of how the world works? It’s quite romantic to believe the seasons turn because of an illicit love affair between gods and a heartbroken mother.

Image: Scott Kelly/NASA (CC-BY)

Of course, science shouldn’t be diminished. The scientific reality is often as mesmerizing as the stories of tricksters and weavers. To see Scott Kelly’s photographs of Earth’s landscapes from such a perspective left me as inspired as the myriad creation myths. While I live in an suburban/urban area, I’m lucky enough to be in Austin, where there is a wide variety of gardens, trails, and protected parks. The shelter I volunteer at is right across from a lakeside trail, and some days I take a dog down to the water so I can enjoy the view with canine company who needs the outing more than I do.

Personally, the enchantment of nature goes beyond lakes and trees, oceans and sunsets. It’s the curiosity of microscopic organisms. It’s recognizing how big the world beyond our world is. It’s appreciating the domestic canine as much as the tropical bird. It’s marveling at science and stories alike, and wondering at everything yet to be discovered in both.

My sincere thank you to everyone who shared their experiences with me! I hope you loved reading these thoughts about the healing power of nature, its ability to surprise, to awe, and of course, its beauty, as much as I did. And don’t forget, you can find more information about The Ancient One, as well as the other adventures of Kate, right here on my website.

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Heroes All Around Us

As all of my readers can attest, young heroes play an important role in my stories – fiction and nonfiction alike. I am often asked why this is — what is my fascination with young heroes — and the answer is quite simple: young heroes play an important role in our lives! Or, at least, they should.

The stories I tell about young heroes are meant to serve as inspiration. In this day and age, where celebrity is often confused with heroism, I think this is particularly important. Our society is seriously confused about the difference between a hero and a celebrity. 

It makes sense that young people especially experience this confusion. Celebrities are all around us. We see them in the media all the time. We celebrate them, we talk about them, and we focus on them a lot. It’s easy to mistake their celebrity for heroism when we give so much of our attention to them in this way. 

True heroes are different. Celebrities are about being well known (and not always for a great reason), but heroes are about character. They may be well known, but often they’re not. In fact, heroes do what they do, regardless of whether anybody else ever notices. So the distinction is crucial between a hero and a celebrity. And I think more than ever, it’s important for young people to discover this difference. 

In this time when we are all faced with so much cynicism and despair, heroes give us an idea of our own potential. I think of heroes as our guides on the trail of life. They show us just how far we can go and just how high we can climb. Because heroes are just like us; in fact, they are us! They aren’t special people gifted with extraordinary abilities. They’re people who have tapped into that part of themselves that gives them the courage to do big, great things. And we all have this courage. It’s part of my core belief that there’s a hero in all of us, a hero in every child. A potential, a force, a positive energy with the capacity to allow us to do something special with our lives.

Every hero discovers that they have something deep inside themselves, something that they didn’t even know was there when times really get tough. They dig deep and find in their hearts the courage, the wisdom, the vision, the perseverance, whatever it takes to survive and, ultimately, to triumph.  Everyone has that potential and telling these stories of triumph by everyday young heroes helps other young people know that they can find their own heroes living within them.

That’s why I love telling these stories about young heroes, even those like Merlin, who are living entirely in a fantasy world. The magic Merlin discovers within himself is only a metaphor, really, for the possibility that every person has; that every child has to discover the magic within themselves. 

As much as I find Merlin and his discovery of magic to be a metaphor for the possibility that all children have to discover their own “magic,” I know that it can be challenging for children facing hardships to make that connection – from the fantasy world of Merlin to the very real one they’re living in. That’s why I was inspired to create The Hero’s Trail. 

This nonfiction book tells over 100 stories of real-life young heroes. It shares how children from all different backgrounds, with a host of different life experiences, facing so many seemingly insurmountable challenges, find the magic within themselves to become real-life heroes. I wanted to tell the stories about how these children, who each found themselves washed ashore in a certain way in their own lives, were able to find courage, perseverance, generosity, compassion, hope, faith, humor, and the willingness to get up and go on. These kids are far more impressive, honestly, than any of the fictional heroes that I’ve ever written about. And they are real.

My greatest hope is that by sharing these stories, the inspiration and the possibilities will shine through for any young person who might be on the cusp of uncovering their magic or doubting if it’s truly in them at all.

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You Are the Author of Your Own Story

Today I’m inviting you to see your life as a story! 

Episode 6 Excerpt

by T. A. Barron | Magic & Mountains: The T. A. Barron Podcast

https://tabarron.com/wp-content/uploads/Life-as-a-Story-Quotes.mp3

As we journey through life, we encounter many moments that are out of our control. I find that embracing those moments, seeing them as chapters of the great book of our lives, helps me to make sense of them and use them as a source of growth. 

While you may not be able to control or even anticipate all of the things you will experience in life, what you can control is how you allow those experiences to embed themselves into your story. Will they be thrilling chapters of adventure and excitement, or tragic interludes that push you into new spaces and dimensions?

You are the author of your story — which means you get to make it the best story possible! I’ve always seen this as a gift and an opportunity. I’ve always been highly motivated to use my life to the fullest, to really grow in all of the ways I can grow. Stretching your wings to fly gives you the opportunity to live fully, even if you have to crash and burn a few times along the way. 

But how do you truly commit to living your story passionately, honestly, and as fully as you can?

I say it’s a lot about perspective, gratitude, and being open to embracing all of life’s moments, as well as remembering three important things. 

The important people in your life are the main characters in your story. 

And, just like any character in a great and intriguing story, they’re important! 

I have been blessed to have many important characters who have helped shape my story. One of them is my lovely wife, Currie. She stood by and watched as I toiled through the process (and the many rejections) of becoming an author. She saw me working to maintain a full-time job while waking at 4 am each day to get in some quality writing time and she saw me being disappointed time and time again when publishers turned down my first manuscript. Through it all, though, she believed in me — even when I began to doubt myself. 

That unwavering support was crucial to my success. I was fortified by her belief in me and it’s exactly her belief that gave me the courage to leave a job I wasn’t passionate about and focus more wholly on writing a manuscript I could be proud of. 

My first book was published within a year of us leaving my corporate life in NYC behind and I know I wouldn’t have accomplished that without the support of one of my all-time favorite story characters: Currie.

Your experiences, good and bad, are the key elements of your story. 

Daily life gives us our material. That includes parts that are about heartache, parts that are about hope… parts that can be painful, difficult, and very challenging. And also parts that can be beautiful, nurturing, and lovely, as well as surprising. Usually it’s a mix of many of these parts that make up the story of our life.

That’s the material that we storytellers get to work with. Key elements of our story. So, add to that mix just as if you’re seasoning a soup, a sprinkling of herbs and spices, like gratitude, empathy, humility, and humor. I would say especially humor. That’s the basil in your soup that gives it that little bit of extra lift. 

Then by the choices we make, and the attitudes we bring to every day, we can shape that material. We can affect how that story unfolds, always aware that this is our story, no one else’s, and we get to be the author. 

The choices we make, even the small ones, matter. 

That’s because we each matter. 

The choices we make, small ones and large ones, really do make a difference. Some small decision you make today can go on to impact you and those around you in some huge way later. You may not plan it, and you definitely can’t predict it, but making a small change, a minute shift, or even the most minuscule alteration in your movements or choices today can have a seismic impact on something many moments or months — or even years — from now. 

For some, this probably seems like an overwhelming and even frightening way of looking at things, but I choose to embrace it and look at it as an opportunity. I think about the beautiful possibilities that can bloom from the choices I make. Imagine the twists and turns it could add to my story! 

The ending will be here before you know it. 

I know, that sounds a bit macabre, but it is truly what has empowered me to live my life as a story. 

The idea that life is so brief makes it more beautiful, even at the same time as it makes it more poignant and fragile. It is what has given me the courage to take big leaps into the unknown, to pursue far-fetched dreams and make them come true, and to look at rejection as just another stepping stone on my way to where I’m supposed to be. 

At the end of the day, all we have — truly, all we have — is our time and our souls. Why not make the most of them as we tell our story with passion, honesty, and joy?

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