Forest Fairy Surprise

by Catherine Dilts

There is delight in seeing something you didn’t expect. Don’t warn me ahead of time. I want to be surprised.

We visited my husband’s best friend in Boise, Idaho, last month. He took us on walking trails he regularly uses. The trek was a reminder of how we tend to become dulled to our familiar surroundings.

I stopped several times to marvel at the scenery. The bridge over the river. Mushrooms. Colorful fall leaves.

The random fairy village by the side of the trail. 

Our host grasped for the purpose of leaving painted rocks, fairies, animal figurines, and even a tiny Jesus, on a fallen tree beside the trail. I tried to explain my own hobby: painted rocks. You release them into the world, not knowing whether anyone will see them. Hoping to bring a smile to a stranger’s face.

“Love,” I said. “They do this for love.”

Back home again, I’m looking at my surroundings with fresh eyes. Am I appreciating my familiar world? I’m also pondering the amount of energy I put into my fiction writing.

Why do we write? The vast majority of us will never hit significant best-seller lists. Whether we want fame or not, it likely will remain elusive. Forget about fortune. At this stage of publishing, most authors are grasping to not lose money.

The fairy village has multiple purposes, I’m sure. There may be a genuine effort to attract the little winged people, making them feel welcome. It could be an expression of love for the children and adults strolling by. Or that peculiar human trait of wanting to create beauty and art on a blank canvas.

For writers, there is an element of exorcising inner pain. Or expressing joy. Trying to make sense of our life experiences. Wanting to share the meaning we’ve found.

Our audiences can feel as anonymous as the hiker pausing to admire a fairy village in the forest. Somewhere in your brain, you know a reader discovered a nugget in your novel or short story. A crumb of sustenance nourishing them for their own real-life battles.

Have faith that your creative contributions have rippling impacts on the world far more significant than your original act.