What Fuels Your Fire?
by Suzanne Warr
Our feet ached, our heads were swimming, and we'd had entirely too much of both root beer floats and corndogs. We'd had a good time, but we were all State Fair'd out, and ready for the comforts of home. But there was one more sight waiting for us, and when everything else faded to the back of our minds, it would blaze on.
She was a fire dancer, tucked over in a circle of grass within the flower show. She didn't have the audience that the pot-bellied pig races could draw, but that was part of the magic. As she danced and wove through the air, her tumbling torches became fire wisps, and her spell quieted little ones and muted conversation. We were still.
Me, being a writer, kept wishing I could step outside myself and scribble frantically the words and feelings running through my head, while of course also standing quietly, absorbing. Afterward I enjoyed listening to my breathless daughter, and seeing the dazzled looks of the little kids who'd watched quietly while she danced. This, I thought. This right here, is wonder, and transport, and the intangible magic that we strive to provide with story.
It will be my inspiration, as I head into the holidays and set to work on my next writing project. Since I may even Nano this year, I know it will get a little crazy, a little frenzied, and at the end of the day I'll be done, ready to crawl into bed and call it good. Each time I try instead to write a little wonder and transport my readers, I'll think of this dancer with her fire elementals. I hope she can inspire you, too, and Happy Nanoing to All!
Our feet ached, our heads were swimming, and we'd had entirely too much of both root beer floats and corndogs. We'd had a good time, but we were all State Fair'd out, and ready for the comforts of home. But there was one more sight waiting for us, and when everything else faded to the back of our minds, it would blaze on.
She was a fire dancer, tucked over in a circle of grass within the flower show. She didn't have the audience that the pot-bellied pig races could draw, but that was part of the magic. As she danced and wove through the air, her tumbling torches became fire wisps, and her spell quieted little ones and muted conversation. We were still.
Me, being a writer, kept wishing I could step outside myself and scribble frantically the words and feelings running through my head, while of course also standing quietly, absorbing. Afterward I enjoyed listening to my breathless daughter, and seeing the dazzled looks of the little kids who'd watched quietly while she danced. This, I thought. This right here, is wonder, and transport, and the intangible magic that we strive to provide with story.
It will be my inspiration, as I head into the holidays and set to work on my next writing project. Since I may even Nano this year, I know it will get a little crazy, a little frenzied, and at the end of the day I'll be done, ready to crawl into bed and call it good. Each time I try instead to write a little wonder and transport my readers, I'll think of this dancer with her fire elementals. I hope she can inspire you, too, and Happy Nanoing to All!
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