School Supplies in Hogsmead

If you ever need to buy school supplies for your young witch or wizard, the best place to visit is Hogsmeade, a quaint English village located in the heart of Orlando, Florida.

There you can buy the black robes that pass for a uniform at Hogwarts, that foremost school of Magic and Witchcraft. Regardless of what House the sorting hat has assigned them to, you can find other necessary attire, such as sweaters, hats, and scarves, to match the colors of Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor. 

First-year students, and careless students who need a replacement, can find the wand that suits them best at Ollivander's Wand Shop. 

If your young witch or wizard is into sports, they likely play Quidditch. The older brooms Hogwarts assigns their students tend to pull to the side, and can prove truculent at times. For a more responsive model, I suggest the Nimbus 2000. What it costs you in money, it'll make up on the field. The increased performance might be enough to get him or her on one of the House teams.

Or perhaps your children look to the heavens for their inspiration. You'll find a wide variety of telescopes to help your children interpret the meaning of celestial movements.

Of course, every young woman needs her own mirror, if only to remind herself--every day--who's the fairest of them all. It's her, naturally. 

Dragon Dave

Read Debate Rages Over A Chocolate Frog

You can read today's Dalek post, Debate Rages Over a Chocolate Frog, at Pocket Dalek & Friends.

Who would have thought a amphibian confection could prove so contentious?

Dragon Dave

The Tantalizing Delights of Hogsmeade

With all the shops in Hogsmeade competing for our attention, one that captured it fully was a candy store. This display of Chocolate Frogs, along with the trading cards of witches and wizards included in each box, tantalized us with the possibility of compiling the complete set. (And, no doubt, a formidable army of frogs).

This display of delectables confounded even the most jaded palates.

While a display of Peppermint Toads had us croaking with delight,

this selection of Fudge Flies didn't promise us a pleasurable buzz.

In the end, we purchased an item both practical and tasty: a chocolate cauldron. I could eat the inside, and then use prepare potions. Of course, after storing away all the potions I could hope to need, I could then consume the cauldron in a manner befitting an accomplished wizard like myself.

Talk about having your cauldron and eating it too! But then, chocolate is a magical food.

Dragon Dave

Our Arrival At Hogsmeade

When a steward opened our door, he ushered us from our cozy six-passenger compartment, and we walked down the train car's narrow hallway.

Disembarking the Hogwarts Express, we followed our fellow travelers out of the station, and soon saw signs marked Hogsmeade. We didn't recognize the name, but the air seemed fresher here in the country. And after our brush with the Dementors, any destination would have come as a relief, even the busy, noisy, crowded metropolis of London. Or for that matter, the busy, noisy, crowded metropolis of Orlando, which we also seemed to have departed. In any case, before us lay a delightful English village, with many shops and streets to explore. 

A surprising large number of people filled the streets. Perhaps it was the local market day? 

We could only wonder what we would discover in the village of Hogsmeade.

Dragon Dave

A Ride Aboard the Hogwarts Express: Part 2

One moment my wife and I watched the quiet English countryside stream past. It looked like a storm might be brewing outside, but that was okay: we were comfortable in our six-person compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express. We could sit back, and watch the clouds disperse the rains that kept the fells, valleys, and pasturelands so green. With Nature bursting from so such pent-up energy, we were reminded how English artist Ashley Jackson captures all the color and drama of the moment before the storm in his landscape paintings. Then, in an instant, everything changed.

Spectral wraith-like beings swept into our compartment, filling our hearts with fear, and draining our minds of all hope, and joy. Someone whispered, "Dementors," I'm not sure who, or what they meant. Nor can I recollect how long that moment lasted, but it seemed an eternity. Eventually these terrible ghosts (or Dementors?) left, and a short while later, a village appeared on the horizon. An audible sigh, comparable to the exhalations of the locomotive's mighty engine, filled our compartment. Then we were pulled into another railway station.

We didn't know where we were, but at least we had survived our encounter with those hateful spirits. There's a positive side to every moment of life, don't you agree?

Dragon Dave

A Ride Aboard the Hogwarts Express: Part 1

Exiting Diagon Alley, we arrived by some inexplicable coincidence outside Kings Cross Station in London, England. Walking inside, we showed our identity documents, had our fingerprints scanned, and then traversed corridors that wandered in typical London Underground fashion--up and down, right and left, to and fro, this way and that, twisting and winding and turning--until we turned a final corner and slammed face-first into a brick pillar. Somehow, we passed through the bricks unharmed, and arrived at a loading platform: Number 9 3/4. There a steam locomotive, the Hogwarts Express, awaited us. We boarded, and were ushered into a comfortable, six-person compartment. Soon an alarm rang out, and the station attendants shouted in reply. We looked out to see the workers signaling the All Clear.

Inside our comfortable six-passenger compartment, we watched as the train steamed past London's narrow, crowded streets. Once we spotted a snowy white owl clutching a parcel in its beak as it flew by. 

After awhile, we left the grand metropolis behind, and traveled through the verdant English countryside. At one point, a large, bearded man flew past our window in his motorcycle and sidecar. 

Yes, you read that right: he flew by. 

Who knew motorcycles could fly? 

Through the frosted glass of our compartment, an old woman appeared, pushing a sweets trolley. Several students stopped in the hall in answer to her hails. I thought of surveying her offerings, but she never pulled our door aside to ask. She can easily be forgiven this oversight, however, given the dark events which then ensued.

Dragon Dave

Shopping at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

While all the shops in Diagon Alley drew our attention, one shop that we had to explore was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was founded by two brothers who attended a school called Hogwarts. While one brother apparently died defending his school against evil forces threatening his school, the other runs the shop in his brother's honor, and serves new generations of Hogwarts students.

The building was packed with parents, and children and teens wearing robes and carrying wands. Perhaps they were buying all the supplies they needed before returning to Hogwarts for the second half of the school year. With products like Fainting Fancies, Exploding Bon Bons, Fizzing Whizzbees, and Nosebleed Nougat, whether or not their teachers and school administrators would have approved of all the items is another question entirely.

I'm guessing teachers would have appreciated one item though, a set of large, extendable ears. After all, students regularly claim that teachers never told them about subjects that end up on their final exams.

A staff member demonstrated this cute little toy on the counter. Being able to ride a unicycle, while balancing various objects, suggests this woman is a talented individual. But for some reason, I got the feeling that the counter attendants didn't like her.

In the end, we simply had to buy something to commemorate our trip to this colorful, fanciful store. My wife chose something called a chocolate frog. I don't know about you, but this is one time I hope that what we find inside differs from what is written on the label.

Dragon Dave

In Defense of Mr Dursley

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
--the introductory paragraph in J. K. Rowling's novel Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

I don't know what delights you might discover when reading a book by Gilderoy Lockhart, but delving into J. K. Rowling's first novel, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, offers delights for anyone who has only seen the movie adaptation. One of those is an enhanced understanding of Harry's uncle, Mr. Dursley. 

The Dursleys have everything in life they want, and this is largely because of Mr. Dursley's hard work. He not only works for a company that makes drills, but has made his way to the top office as the company director. He's made his reputation, and doesn't want anything to damage how others perceive him. The one thing that could do that is if his coworkers and neighbors learned that his wife's sister is a witch. And that's just what he and his wife come to fear, when a baby is left on their doorstep.

The baby's name? That of their infant nephew, Harry Potter.

Now we tend to think of witches as being fun and cool in Harry Potter's world, but society has a long history of demonizing things it doesn't understand. The history of witch trials and witch-burnings is hardly a tribute to ordinary people's ability to accept others who live a life different from theirs. Mr. Dursley and his wife thus shine a light on our own limitations to accept change. Whether you label yourself a conservative, a moderate, or a liberal, in any aspect of your life (your political outlook, your religious beliefs, your views on society at large), there are areas in which you are liable to be adaptable, and places where you simply cannot bend. 

Mr. Dursley is one of us. He's just like us. The problem is that he's too much like us. So he comes off as one dimensional. We laugh at him, we make fun of him, we deride him. The problem is that we are the hypocrites, not Mr. Dursley. We want to believe that we're better than him. And maybe we are in some ways. But when the owls start to appear, delivering invitations for Harry to join Hogwarts, he can no longer hide from the truth: Harry is destined to become a wizard.

And everyone in the world will know that he raised the boy!

In time, this fear will give way to cruelty, and it's true: there's simply no excuse for the way Mr. Dursley treats Harry. He houses the growing boy in a cupboard under the stairs, he makes Harry into the family servant, he never celebrates Harry's birthday but lavishes untold gifts upon his biological son. But inside Mr. Dursley, there's a good person yearning to get out. He wants to treat Harry well. I believe he wants to lavish gifts upon Harry, and proudly show him off to everyone as his own son. The problem is that Harry keeps on exhibiting signs of a magical nature. I think Mr. Dursley honestly believes that if he keeps on repressing the boy's magical instincts, and plowing on with his own version of Tough Love, that Harry will choose to become a good, stable, conventional member of society. Just like he hopes his biological son Dudley will become. 

But then the owls start appearing, delivering invitations for Harry to join Hogwarts, and Mr. Dursley goes frantic. If only he could protect his nephew from the evil, insidious attraction of magic! Why can't the boy choose to be like everyone else? Why can't Harry embrace his ideals, and be the boy Mr. Dursley wants to love and admire?

Ultimately, Mr. Dursley reminds us of our own brittleness, of our inability to accept diversity. He reminds us how we fight against religious, political, societal, and familial change, even though we know it's inevitable. He reminds us why we argue vociferously and tirelessly how others ought to stop being different, and be more like us, the way we want them to be. And finally, he shows us how one-dimensional we appear when we refuse to accept that others are different from us, and refuse to accept their choices as just as rational (and righteous) as our own. 

But that's just me, one thing I got out of reading J. K. Rowling's novel. How do you see Mr. Dursley? Am I onto something, something real and true? Or am I merely a muddled muggle?

Dragon Dave

A Brush with the Yeti in Flourish & Blotts

Pushing my way into the crowded store, I perused the display of books by Gilderoy Lockhart. In addition to the titles previously mentioned, Travels With Trolls sounded dangerous and exciting. (Trolls, after all, have a reputation for capturing dwarves and hobbits with the intention of eating them, in addition to attacking the students at Hogwarts in the girls' restrooms). But a sad fact of life is I can't buy, let alone hope to read, every book that intrigues me. Eventually I settled on one title in particular. It was titled Year With The Yeti.

I've long been interested in the Yeti, those hairy sentient relatives of mankind who populate the Himilayas, and may or may not be related to Bigfoot. The Second Doctor (in Doctor Who) even battled the Yeti in two adventures: "The Abominable Snowman" and "The Web of Fear." Well, I say Yeti: they were called Yeti in Doctor Who. But really, those Yeti were robots made to look like Yeti, and controlled by the Great Intelligence. Real Yeti, such as those portrayed in the semi-historical film "The Mummy: Curse of the Dragon Emperor," are more likely to help people than hurt them. Still, they like to keep to themselves. So I was curious as to how the author found the Yeti, and convinced them to let him spend a year with them. 

I picked up a copy of Year With the Yeti, and perused the travelogue. Author Gilderoy Lockhart certainly writes with style, and his adventures among those snowy mountain peaks soon captivated me. Clutching a copy to my chest, I waited in a long line to purchase it. But when I reached the counter, the sales staff claimed they didn't take credit cards. Furthermore, they refused to take my "muggle" money. 

Muggle-money? Whatever did they mean?

Eventually, they explained that this special region of Florida used its own form of money. They directed me to a currency exchange office, where a short man with sharp features exchanged what little cash we had with unfamiliar bills. But when we returned to Flourish & Botts, the staff had removed all of Mr. Lockhart's books from the shelves. Apparently, they had just learned that Mr. Lockhart's claims were false, and refused to sell us any of his books!

So it seemed I would not get to read Gilderoy Lockhart's book after all, or learn about his (supposed) adventures with the Yeti. Life sometimes thrusts a few hard knocks your way. Right then, this felt like one of them.

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries
Mummies, Yetis, and Zombies, Oh My!

Discovering Magical Author Gilderoy Lockhart

I've always been fascinated by bookstores. So when I spotted Flourish & Blotts in Diagon Alley, I had to peer through the front window.

Inside, I saw books stacked impossibly high. The stacks swayed, like I've been told skyscrapers do, as if always on the cusp of falling to the floor. Behind them, the shelves of the bookcases were packed from floor to ceiling. I even saw a few books inside cages. These sprouted teeth from their covers, and were chained closed, as if to prevent the books from digging their gnashing teeth into a prospective reader's hands.

I found a display of books by an author named Gilderoy Lockhart especially intriguing. 

Voyages With Vampires. Holidays With Hags. Wanderings With Werewolves. Who could fail to be entranced by titles like those? Books are heavy and bulky, and with all my bookshelves at home filled to capacity, I know I've got more books than I can ever hope to read. Nor did I relish the prospect of stuffing more books (Yes, I brought some with me) into my suitcase, and worrying that it would exceed the weight limit for the plane journey home. Yet, I had to take a closer look at those books. After all, he was a popular and charismatic author, as an advertisement for his latest book attested.

Gripping the door handle, I pushed my way inside. I simply had to know more about Gilderoy Lockhart.

Dragon Dave

Stumbling Upon Diagon Alley

The architecture along one Florida road reminded us of England. After passing several shops, we noticed people entering and leaving a break in the brick wall. Intrigued, we followed them through, and found more shops selling attractive wares. Upon questioning a passerby, we learned that this hidden marketplace was called Diagon Alley. Imagine finding such an English-looking place in Orlando! 

One structure, which seemed afflicted by Florida's famous sinkholes, was Greengotts Bank. Either that, or the weight of the dragon atop it had caused the building's support pillars to lean diagonally rather than perpendicular with the ground. 

As we wandered the cobblestone streets, pleasant aromas led us to a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Peering inside, we saw long wooden tables, over which hung flags denoting four different Magical Houses. Their names, if I'm remembering them rightly, were Griffendoor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. It was well before noon, and even if we had been ravenous, the staff had not started serving lunch yet. Still, it was hard not to linger there a few minutes, and smell all that food cooking.

Diagon Alley hosted lots of shops for local craftsmen. One that was advertised as a Farriers, yet seemed more inclined to forge weaponry and armor than shod horses, was surrounded by a crowd of people. Some of them must have been competent wizards, or at least promising students. How else could I explain how the displays shook and moved when they cast their spells?

Lingering too close to a water fountain, a stone mermaid suddenly arose, and spit a long stream of water at me! It was a cool morning in Florida, and I found the wet clothes irksome. Disinclined to linger, I wandered off, ready either to explore more of Diagon Alley, or escape it somehow, if this was the manner in which its residents chose to welcome me.

Dragon Dave

12 Grimmauld Place, Florida

One morning, during our recent vacation in Florida, my wife and I decided to take a walk. We passed the many restaurants, hotels, and shops, for which Orlando is so famous. Then we turned a corner and found ourselves on an entirely different street. Suddenly, the architecture looked completely different. The sign on the building read Grimmauld Place. I stopped outside Number 12, where I saw a curtain twitch in the second-floor window.

A strange face peered out. I waved at him and smiled. If he saw me, he returned neither gesture. 

Then a double-decker bus pulled up, and a driver waved me over. He offered to give us a lift to someplace called Diagon Alley. It sounded like an interesting place to visit.

His friend inside the vehicle was likewise warm and welcoming, and kept up the wise cracks. But then we noticed that we could only see his head, not his body. This made us anxious, so we quietly slipped off the bus, and stole away. 

It was such an attractive place, and reminded us so much of London. I would never have expected to find a street like that in Florida. But then Orlando, like London, is a magical place.

Dragon Dave

J K Rowling on Children's Illustrations

Three Witches and a Knight explore an enchanted garden in
"The Fountain of Fair Fortune."

While watching "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2" recently, I was struck by "The Tale of the Three Brothers," a fairy tale which the characters in the movie tell Harry at one point. Like Harry, my Muggle upbringing prevented me from reading the stories most magical parents read to their children. Unlike Harry, I lack a wand, as well as the magical capability to wield it. Nevertheless, the way the filmmakers brought "The Tale of Three Brothers" to life through dialogue and images, made me want to read it. Then I realized I had purchased The Tales of Beedle the Bard some time ago, and until now it had been languishing on my bookshelf.

Thankfully, it's not one of those books that behave like monsters, and attempt to bite your hand when you pick it up. Nor did it seem irritated with me, and scold me for ignoring it for so long. So I was charmed as I read "The Tale of the Three Brothers," as well as the other four stories in this slim volume. I found it interesting to read fifteenth century stories whose popularity had ensured not just their survival, but their relevance for contemporary readers. Beedle's writing harkened me back to the Medieval era, when Muggles had reasons to fear magic, as there was no Ministry of Magic to police witches and wizards properly, and warn them of the dangers of indulging in the darker arts. For as J. K. Rowling points out in her Introduction, Magic (regardless of its power or effectiveness) doesn't solve problems. Magic is just another tool that (some) Humans use to solve problems. Unfortunately, time proves most of our decisions wrong, and we often find ourselves working hard to manage or correct problems our choices and actions have created.

In addition to Beedle's prose, Professor Albus Dumbledore also gives us his thoughts on each story. He tells us which ones he enjoyed most, and suggests how each fairy tale may have differed from reality. He explains the reasons why some of these stories may have changed throughout the centuries to address new situations. His commentary provides insight into a world Muggles like me can only dream of inhabiting.

While I enjoyed reading this slim volume, I was shocked to discover that J. K. Rowling actually drew the illustrations. I do a little drawing now and then, and when I'm working on a story, drawing the characters and the setting help me better visualize a scene. Hopefully, this helps me to better convey it through words. Unlike my drawings, J. K. Rowlings illustrations are actually good. It's no wonder her Harry Potter novels have proven so popular, given her ability to visualize scenes through her sketching. Her work inspires me to devote more time to my own drawing, which was the last thing I expected when I picked up this slim volume.

There are lots of reason why you should buy this book. If you love Grimm's Fairy Tales, you'll appreciate the differences in the stories collected within this magical volume. If you've always wanted to read the Harry Potter novels, but worried about committing yourself to seven books, you can start here. If, like me, you'd simply like another glimpse into J.K. Rowling's magical world, this slim volume can provide that for you. But there's a better reason than all of those to pick up The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and that's because proceeds from the book go to fund Lumos, a charity that provides educational, medical, and social benefits to disadvantaged children across Europe. Buying this book will help institutionalized children find loving families, and better prepare them for adulthood. Plus, as I said, it's a safe magical book: it won't bite the hand that buys it, or shriek at you for not reading it sooner. For me, that makes buying The Tales of Beedle the Bard a Win/Win situation for everyone. But then, maybe I'm not seeing the whole picture. After all, I'm only a Muggle.

Dragon Dave

Quidditch: J. K. Rowling’s Sport

"Just envision throwing the Quaffle through the goals."

In the Harry Potter novels, author J. K. Rowling invents a sport for the students to play at Hogwarts.  The game is Quidditch, and the players fly over the game field on their broomsticks.  Each player has a specialized job, and Harry’s is the most special of all.  For he plays the Seeker, and more often than not, the team whose Seeker captures the tiny flying ball called the Snitch will win the game.

"Let's keep those broomsticks high, everyone!"

At Stan Lee’s Comikaze, a section of the exhibit floor had been given over to participants to play a land-based version of Quidditch.  I’m not sure if the players fully understood the rules, or the teams needed time to work out their strategies.  It seemed to me that the players spent more time standing around and talking than they did playing.  Still, they seemed to be enjoying themselves, and I thought it a nice touch that the organizers had translated a game from J. K. Rowling’s novels into something practical that attendees could play between panels, presentations, and the other activities.

"I'm tired of being a Chaser.  Let me be the Keeper, please?"

But in that I was mistaken.  Quidditch is more than just an imaginary game played by fictional characters.  Students in universities and high schools have formed teams.  Quidditch, also known as Muggle Quidditch, is a real sport.  In addition to regional and European championships, World Cups have been held.  (The last occurred in 2011 in New York).  The International Quidditch Association proclaims that there are 798 teams in the United States, and that Quidditch is America’s fastest growing sport.  Interested in playing Quidditch?  Check out the IQA website to find a team, download rules, watch videos, and read the latest Quidditch news.

"Watch out for the Bludger!"

I’m sure J. K. Rowling never envisioned all this when she invented a sport for Harry Potter to play at Hogwarts.  But because her readers love her characters, and her novels, they made Quidditch a reality.  I may understand Quidditch no better than I understand Soccer (sorry, Football), Rugby, and Cricket, but I can't help but feel that its rising popularity serves as a wonderful testament to the important role that Fiction plays in our lives.

"I bet I could make this goal if I had a Nimbus 2000."

Some people claim there’s no magic in this world of ours.  I disagree.

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

Video: Team USA at IQA Games in Oxford, England

International Quidditch Association

Wikipedia description of “Muggle Quidditch”

Lucius Malfoy vs. Neil Gaiman

I never cease to be surprised by the ironies of fate.  Why one artist, despite similar talent and ability, rises to stardom, while another toils in obscurity.  Recently, I realized that the actor Jason Isaacs, who came to my attention through the PBS miniseries “Case Histories,” and currently stars in “Awake,” also played Lucius Malfoy in the Harry Potter movies.  Given his strong portray of the villain, one would think the actor would have felt some assurance that his services would be requested for all the movies.  Yet, after “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,” Jason Isaac’s reportedly had to get down on his knees and beg J. K. Rowling to include him in the final three films.  Talk about the glamorous life of an actor!

"Please, Ms. Rowling, please write me in!  Please please!"

I find it ironic that despite his incredible range, and noteworthy performances in a long list of movies, TV shows, and stage productions, Jason Isaacs remains solidly under the radar of the paparazzi.  Unlike the similarly-featured Daniel Craig, he can take the London Underground to a movie premier.  People may go gaga over him when he’s on the red carpet, but they don’t notice him on the train ride home.  And that’s the way he likes it.  While he imagines he’d like to earn “obscene” amounts of money, he prefers his “calm, sedate and suburban” life to what he sees as the “hideously compromised” lives of those who have skyrocketed to stardom.  Such as, for example, his body double Daniel Craig.

Like J. K. Rowling, another author who has learned that becoming a superstar writer will cost you your anonymity is Neil Gaiman.  I had the pleasure to seeing him at last year’s World Fantasy Convention.  I admire his work in the Science Fiction and Fantasy genre, as well as for connecting so readily with his fans through his website, blog, Tumblr, and Twitter.  But I think he first drew my attention for his simple approach to writing.  He repeatedly tells authors aspiring to be published that there are three things one must do to become a successful writer: 1) Write, 2) Finish, and 3) Submit.  Anyone who can boil down all the intricacies of the marketplace, and the essential makeup of a successful author, into such a basic formula obviously exhibits a certain clarity that can only aid them in communicating to readers through their fiction.  

At the recent World Fantasy Convention, I laughed until my sides ached during his panel discussion with Connie Willis.  I took careful notes as he charted his progression as an author during his Guest of Honor interview.  But then the breath caught in my throat as he announced that he was considering dramatically cutting back on his internet activities to concentrate more fully on his writing.  And when he admitted that he was seriously considering not attending conventions any more, my jaw dropped.  

He went on to share that he no longer enjoyed attending conventions because he could not walk the halls unnoticed.  He couldn’t peruse the books and other items for sale in the dealers’ room, or contemplate the works displayed in the art show.  He couldn’t simply hang out in the hotel bar and hope to meet a few new friends.  Why?  Because he had grown too popular.  His fans were always hunting him down to ask him a few questions, or asking him to sign their books, and that would be all right, except for the sheer number of them.  To paraphrase a popular Carpenters song: “Crowds appear whenever Neil Gaiman is here.”

Neil Gaiman: A Literary Giant

Despite my perfectionist tendencies, I sometimes wonder if part of my reluctance to follow Gaiman’s formula through to completion stems from my fear of the disruptions and change success might bring.  To quote Charles Stross, “Writers are often boring people.  They stay home and they, like, write for hours and hours every day.  Watching them write is really boring, because believe it or not, it takes much longer to write a book than to read it.”  Charles is being somewhat tongue-in-cheek here, as anyone who has ever seen or met him at a convention knows that he is anything but boring.  Still, he has a point.  While Alf Wight (who wrote as James Herriot) may have written his books in the living room, watching TV with his family, for most of us the writing life means willfully condemning ourselves to solitary confinement, and then having little to talk about when meeting others socially.  

Typical Nonwriter/Writer Interaction at Party

Nonwriter: "So, what've you been up to lately?"  

Writer: "Um, er, well...let's see...I've been writing?"

Nonwriter raises eyebrows.  "Really?  Please excuse me while I refill my glass.  Then I want to hear all about it!"

While I’ve come to grips with this aspect of my chosen endeavor, and even to enjoy the solitude and quiet, I need to validate my efforts by finishing and submitting.  Do I want to walk in the shoes of someone like Steven Brust (or Jason Isaacs), with a number of well-loved books to my name?  Absolutely.  Do I want to be like Neil Gaiman or J. K. Rowling or Daniel Craig, making “obscene” amounts of money and living a “hideously compromised” life?  Not so much.

Still.

I guess, when you think about it, worrying about becoming a superstar player is incredibly stupid.  Especially when you’ve yet to make the team.

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Sausage That Brings Isolation Part 2

The Link Between Assumption and Cowardice

Sherlock Holmes: The New Bond

Related Internet Links

Neil Gaiman’s website

Charles Stross’ blog

J. K. Rowling’s next novel