There are many books that I hold near and dear to my heart. Masterpieces that have withstood the test of time—my time, measured in all its scanty weight of years. Indeed years may have flitted past since last I breathed in the musty scent of those pages, and yet when I finally remove the book from the shelf and cradle it once more in gentle hands, I know the story will greet me as an old and dear friend.

Cyrano de Bergerac is such a book for me. Now some of you may cry “foul!” upon my, for it is—of course—a play and so not the typical novel one would pluck from the shelf. But the story is no less rich, the characters no less vivid, and the plot no less intense because it was penned for the stage.

It has something for everyone. The action lover. The romantic. The connoisseur of wit. The critic. The comedian.

And … the writer.

Consider the following scenes from a writer’s point of view.

Bring me giants.

I have so many projects going at the same time right now that it’s hard to fully relish the thrill of victory before diving back into the muck and grime of the next task.

There are days when the sheer number of things on the to-do list are daunting, like an army of Uruk-hai stretching to the horizon. My pen feels heavy and burdensome in my hand.

And then there are days where I can grit my teeth and dive into the fray with a battle cry on my lips.

“I feel too strong to war with mortals—bring me giants!”