Hello
friends!
Wow,
I can't believe I haven't posted since the beginning of July. Sorry
about that. I promise it was for a good reason though. I wrote
another book! I started a project on May 1st and my goal
was to finish it by July 31st and I made it! However, it
meant that July was more than a little bit crazy in the final push
towards my self-imposed deadline. Then in August Husband and I both
got to visit family, which was really nice, but kept me away from the
blog. I got sucked right back into the EBR when we returned, however,
so that's good. Book II will be done by the end of the year, then
hopefully out sometime during the following one. Anyway, enough
updates. I actually had a thing I wanted to talk about.
As
I mentioned, Husband and I both got to see family last month. It was
very special for me to return home, as I haven't in a very long time.
Apart from spending great time with my parents and siblings, I also
spent some time in my old room.
Yes,
there are embarrassing pictures, drawings, crafts, and all manner of
things, including the only surviving copy of my first book: Werewolf
II. However, while cleaning out a drawer in my desk I discovered
something that I literally hadn't thought about in years. What, might
you ask?
Why,
it was my “Monster Wand”, of course.
It
will probably shock exactly none of you to know that as a kid I had a
fairly active imagination. The woods were full of dinosaurs only I
could see, I was besties with the giant water spider who lived in our
laundry room (his name was Igor), and underneath my bed was a portal
to some sort of dark world populated by eldritch beasts the likes of
whom do not even bear describing lest they tear apart the fragile
fabric of one's mind. There was something with glowing eyes that
lived in my closet (an idea that wasn't helped by reading Cujo way
younger than I probably should have), and a horrible black mass that
took on the shape of an innocuous rocking chair in the corner during
daylight hours. My stuffed animals and toy dinosaurs were my
nighttime defenders, but every night felt like our Helms Deep, our
Thermopylae. Surely the monsters would overcome us this time and all
would be lost.
Eventually my parents, likely desperate for their overly-imaginative child to
stop showing up in the wee small hours of the morning to tell them
about which monster she was just sure
was going to devour her this time, decided it was time to take
action.
We
had had the “monsters don't exist” talk, of course. But of course
I knew, as all small children do, that the monsters were in fact very
real. Grown-ups just put blinders on so that they can pretend there
aren't things lurking in the shadows. I would listen when my parents
would tell me that there was nothing that could hurt me under the
bed. I would look with them, we'd talk about imaginations and how I
should probably try to think about nice things before bed instead of
things with too many legs and bright, glowing eyes.
Unfortunately
for my parents, the rational stuff didn't entirely take. I wanted it
to, I really did. I wanted to be a “big girl” and be as brave as
my fighter pilot father. But damn it, there was definitely
something that lived under the bed that would grab me if I didn't get
into it at a dead run after midnight trips to the bathroom!
Then,
one day they hit upon something genius. Instead of continuing trying
to convince their stubborn offspring that the monsters were just
figments of her imagination, they went along with it. They gave me a
tool to combat the monsters. They bought me one of those clear
plastic wands with the glitter that floats in this viscous liquid
inside. It was the “Monster Wand”. They would wave it under my
bed, in the closet, wherever scary things were. It dispelled them. It
sent them away.
Having
the monster wand in my bedside table was a pretty huge thing.
Suddenly I had the
power to fight the monsters. I wasn't just food waiting to be eaten.
I could stand alongside my stuffed animal and dinosaur army and be my
Triceratops' equal as we faced the forces of darkness. Most
importantly, it acknowledged what all kids know: Monsters are real.
That lesson hasn't gotten any less important to me as an adult. Sure,
the definition of “Monster” has changed as I've gotten older
(contrary to the impression you may have gotten from my book), but
they are every bit as real now as they were when I was five.
I
think that the Monster Wand was probably the best thing in the world
that my parents could have done for me as a kid, and certainly
something that has shaped me as an adult. We all have those things
that lurk in the darkness, ready to pull us into waiting claws and
fangs. Having a Monster Wand as a kid helped shape me into a person
who would always rather stand and fight, even if I do sometimes take
a few hits and lose some ground. It taught me that bad things, scary
things exist...but they can always be fought with the right tools and
some courage.
So
am I saying that you parents should tell your kids that there is
totally a thing under their bed that thinks they would be great with
fava beans and a nice Chianti? Well...no, potential amusement factor
aside.
I
guess that what I'm saying is that if anyone, be it your child, your
spouse, your friend, comes and wants to talk to you about their
“monsters”...don't dismiss them by telling them that it's not
real. Even if it is only real to them, it's still real. Don't try to
pretend that the darkness isn't there, because it is. We all have it
and no one can face it unarmed and alone all the time. No one should
have to.
So
friends, break out your Monster Wands, your vorpal swords, your
lights of Eärendil, whatever it is that you need. It's ok to be
scared, the PTB know that I am often enough. I have been a lot lately. It may no longer be made
of plastic and filled with glitter, but I still have my Monster Wand
close to my heart. I'm glad to have it, more now than ever. I hope that you all are able to find your own.
"Eulalia!"
