Scottish Folk and Fairy Tales

Chosen and Edited by Gordon Jarvie. Illustrated by Barbara Brown. (1992/1997) Published by Penguin Popular Classics. 199 pages.

I’ve been to Scotland a couple of times, once to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival. When I was there I was especially impressed by the simple beauty of some of the street names, like “Bread,” and “Home.”
I read this book several months ago. It took me two days to read. Just recently I sat down and gave myself the daunting task of writing a full-length play. As with any creative writing endeavor, this meant pitting myself against the worst, most closed-minded, most pessimistic parts of my own psyche. There’s a part of the brain that was determined to tell me, no, do NOT continue this project, you’ve chosen the wrong subject; you’re taking the wrong path.
For some reason, the memory of this book was especially helpful to me in conjuring up whatever magic spell I needed to keep the inspiration flowing.
We all know that there are epics. There’s a pantheon of Greek Gods out there, armed with complex arsenals of symbolism, laden down with overweening vanity and ambition which send mere mortals off to launch ten thousand stanzas of carefully metered verse to delineate the rise and falls of entire empires.
It’s important to remember that the mighty Zeus doesn’t have a monopoly on magic. There are kelpies and brownies, magic walking sticks and lonely giants out there. They come out of the dark shadows of the woods and interfere in the lives of the simplest of people. To me, fairy tales like these serve as reminders to never take magic for granted. Magic is whatever leads you off the path to grandma’s house and into the woods. If you’re a writer, don’t worry too much about whether the voice that’s beckoning to you from the shadows belongs to the mighty Apollo or a humble Milk-White Doo. If it’s an invitation to get you off the well-trodden path, take it.