How To Become A Fire-Breathing Writing Dragon

March 7, 2008 · by Joanna Paterson · in

…sometimes I think of writing (I hope this isn’t too fanciful) as breathing out fire. And when I coach people it’s because I want to help them breathe out that fire too.

Maybe I am being fanciful. Maybe not. Bear with me.

I was recently talking to a friend (Amy Palko) about a book she’d been given by a teacher, as a child.  It was called Everyone Knows What A Dragon Looks Like.

I haven’t read the book, but Amy was good enough to describe the story.  It’s about Han, a young street-sweeper, and an old, fat, balding man who claims to be a dragon – and to have the power to save the city from attack. He’s thrown out of the city on the grounds of false pretences, but the street-sweeper believes in him, and puts him up. In return the old, fat, balding man takes a deep breath, blows away the enemies of the city, and shows Han what a dragon ‘really’ looks like before disappearing.

As Amy says, it’s the boy’s open mind that allows him to tap into this power:

Although Han was unable to see the true form of the dragon, he was willing to believe that there was more to the little old man than his appearance suggested. In that sense, he was open to an alteration of perception; he was open to the possibility of a life less ordinary.

And of course this is a frame of mind that isn’t just useful for writing…

But I was also struck by the hidden power of the old, fat, balding man and his eventual decision, his choice, to use it.

To become a fire-breathing dragon.

Fire-Breathing Writing Dragons

The old man reminded me of so many people (myself included at times) who are afraid of their own power – to speak out, to make a difference, to tell it the way it is, to free our words, to find our own voice, to toot sweetly, to realize the power of our words.

The story made me think about the blinkers we look through and the labels we apply. Most of us are even better at labelling ourselves than we are at defining other people. Limiting our sense of what’s possible.

“Oh, but I’m not a writer” I hear people say. What does that matter? Neither am I. It’s what you write, what you say, what you do with your power that counts. I know a lot of professional writers who know how to turn a trick – but not how to breathe fire.

I guess this is what inspiration means for me. It’s the invitation, the challenge, the spark that gives me fire-breathing powers.

That makes me feel like I’m breathing in, deep, and breathing out, hard.

Telling a truth, sharing something essential, using my power.

And the writing that comes from that place, well it does have the power to change things, even if it’s just changing me. (And sometimes changing ourselves is more than enough.)

We don’t need to wait for permission to do this. Hope that someone will come along who has faith, who believes in us, who’ll spot our hidden potential.

We just need to know our own power. The ability to breathe out fire.

And then decide to use it.

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