How do you deal with other people’s perceptions?

I never imagined I would write about dragons. I had watched the Hobbit and parts of Game of Thrones and I found I loved these medieval style fantasies. Medieval times were brutal and devoid of the luxuries and technologies we accept as a normal way of life. People had to use all their natural skills and intelligence to survive. This way of life enthralls many fans.

The idea for my medieval style book, The Last of the Silver Wings, came to mind from my daughter’s relationship with her cat. She had a way of dealing with animals that I had never seen before. It reminded me of horse whisperers. One morning, her kitten got stuck in a tree and the idea of a young woman involved in some sort of rescue adventure type of novel sprung to mind. This first rescue was to find a stolen Silver Wing hatchling.

It shocked me when I started getting resistance from one of my Christian friends about why a Christian author would write about dragons. At first I felt hurt and defensive, but then I realised that this formed part of a greater relational problem. We often resist what we don’t understand. My retired minister put it to me this way. A fire can cook your dinner, but it can also burn down your house. You get to choose how you will use it. I wrote about my dragons in the same way. They helped humankind, but along the way, some of these fire breathing beasts could burn down a village. 

Authors like C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien both combined elements of faith and fiction. The purpose of many Christian fantasy authors is to bring a type of parable-like wisdom to their stories in a way that engages the reader’s attention. One of the greatest storytellers in the Christian faith was of course Jesus, who taught many of his lessons as parables that the Hebrews of that time could relate to. I write stories that fans of dragons can relate to and one day, when my children are young adults themselves, they can learn from the battles and wisdom of the characters in them.  

Why am I telling you this? Because in your heart lies a dream that you want to bring to the world. There are some critics that will help refine your dream. Much like my editor uses critique to help me improve my stories. Then there are some critics that will crush your dreams. When people criticise my children. I ask them to think about this. Is it true? Ignore it if it is not. The ask yourself, “How can I apply myself to be better if it is true?” If it is true, but said with malice, then ignore the tone of the messenger and focus on the message.

This year, I hope you will refine your dream and bring it to the world using people’s perceptions to help refine you, but never stop you.

Extract from Book 4

Scars littered King Radolf’s palms from his nails biting into his flesh. Yet he could not help clenching his fists even tighter. The King watched the flicker of the flames in the fireplace of his chambers to try and calm his thoughts. He had to contain his rage. If he gave in to his fantasies of destroying Lord Logan now, he would sabotage his treasury.
Lord Teebald had warned him not to let his obsession rage out of control. The monarch took out his frustrations on the lesser members of his court, but it did little to appease his desire to claim what he thought was his. He had even driven his dagger into the throat of his latest training partner. The tutor had not even raised an eyebrow at the death. His general had chosen them from the Ofardoes’ slaves. The Ofardoes used men the way the Romans used gladiators for training and entertainment.


King Radolf turned the heavy oak table over in another fit of rage, spewing parchments over the stone floor. The room looked as if a careless spy had been on a rampage to claim a treasure. Nothing appeased him now. The monarch sank into the carved chair softened by the richly embroidered green cushion, but it did little to comfort him. He stared into the dancing flames once again. King Radolf still remembered Christine’s face as she saw that worthless spy that he and his spymaster had sent racing to protect the child they had given him to bait Christine.


King Radolf bellowed to a servant to clean up the mess he had created. The guard let the trembling girl into the room. Perhaps she expected something that he was not in the mood to give, but as she bent over to pick up the parchments, he recognised one.
“Woman, bring me that parchment from the top there.”
Her hand quivered as she reached forward with the manuscript. As his hand closed over her wrist to pull her closer, he felt a tremor run through her and sensed her fear. Her bottom lip was a signal, shouting out her anxiety, and he looked at her with disgust.

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