Here be dragons, cars, robots, boats, trains, books, flowers, horses, dogs, clothes, jewellery etc.

We have to face the fact and this mostly  applies to men, or at least, definataly applies to men in my experience, that: there is one thing that you loved in your childhood that you are going to spend the rest of your life trying to get back to.

There is one thing that you loved in your childhood that you are going to spend the rest of your life trying to get back to

There is something, in your life, from your formative time on this earth that makes you want to do anything at all.

Actually, that’s not quite true.

There are lots of things your life that make you know what you want to do. There are many things that make you feel like you have a purpose

You could have children, and in that, know that you have a place in the world, finally, when you hold them for the first time

You may find love and know that this is the person who you would like to place your skeleton next to in the earth

You could, I have heard but don’t quite believe, find a profession that is so engaging and meaningful to you that you know exactly what you want do all of your life.

(As I say, I don’t quite believe this, despite having lots of jobs that make me feel good and important and that my position in the world is one of being exactly where I want to be)

I am not talking about these motivations. I am not talking about these desires. I am not talking about these duties.

I am talking about the thing from your childhood that you hold on to somewhere inside, which is something that is just for you.

For me. It was dragons.

I read (or got read to), a lot of books about dragons as a child. They weren’t really about dragons being evil creatures who hoard their gold in mountains.

They were usually misunderstood.

One, in an early reading book, The Adventures of Dragon, given to me in 1990 by mum and dad, which I only know because it has the neat handwriting of my father inside the cover telling me so in pencil, was about a misunderstood dragon. He was lost and lonely in the woods, everyone was scared of him, but he just wanted to sing. Other stories showed how he was hunted, or how he did his best for the woodland creatures.

Another, There’s No Such Thing As Dragons, is about a little boy whose mother and father do not believe that a there is a dragon in his bedroom, or that the dragon, which keeps growing, is the one that is eating everything in the house. The dragon gets so big it is impossible for the adults to ignore. 

As a large child, I spent a lot of time being taught to be gentle. And being misunderstood as being older. Getting told of for knowing better or being told I wasn’t allowed to play in a certain place, according to other parents – not my own, because I was too old. I wasn’t, I was just taller and stronger and very aware that I didn’t want to hurt anyone at all.

This short introspection aside, I know that the thing that is calling me, and is just for me, is dragons. It is fantasy. It is adventure. It is intelligent, misunderstood, and powerful creatures. 

I’ve spent my life moving towards it. Pretending that I was only writing about monsters as a literary device. Maybe I was, but I think that also, I just want to write about monsters. Every novel I have ever written (and failed to publish) is, in some way, about monsters. They might be a metaphor for grief, or power, but they’re actually there in the room sometimes.

I think in some ways I have always felt like the monster in real life, and I’m very happy to not have been hunted for my loot and experience points.

I spent my time writing about board games and roleplaying games, and I was very happy there in part because I was getting a lot closer to just thinking about dragons.

It’s because these were for me. They’re important to me. They’re not for anyone else. I am bound by duty to so many different things in life and this is one of the motivations that I keep entirely for myself. Sure, my children likes it when I draw us a cool dragon, but really, that’s still for me.

It’s only come to me recently. That there’s one thing that we’re all racing back to. There’s some toy that we’re always heading to home to. Some minor thing that is ours. 

I think knowing it is important. There’s nothing worse than pretending to love something. Find out what it is at your heart, what it is in your toy box in your ribcage, and spend your time moving toward that. 

You’ll feel a lot happier. I promise. I do.