Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Ana s Nin

"Sharing your writing, being enlarged by others' writing, is what makes you feel famous." - Gretchen Bernabei

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth." - Edna Ferber

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Ben Franklin

"One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones to form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment." - Hart Crane

"There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are." - W. Somerset Maugham

Beautiful Dreamer

Herewith the original version of an ancient fairytale.

Using only his two-edged sword and his thigh-high boots, HRH Prince Clarence Hubert Arthur Marmaduke Ethelred Ronnie (Charmer for short) fought his way through the dense tangle of brambles, briars, blackberry and roses that surrounded the castle.

At last he was able to see the turrets of the castle and knew that his mission was on track. All he had to do now was finish it.

Ten more minutes of lashing and slashing and he arrived at the castle moat. Laying down his sword, he grasped his courage and his crown in both hands and took a giant leap across the moat, only falling short by a metre or two. Luckily, the moat had been designed more for paddling than drowning and he was able to squelch his way out, pausing only to put on his crown and pull off his mud-caked boots.

In front of him was a pair of solid wooden doors, with a guard on either side, leaning on their pikestaffs and fast asleep. The doors swung open as if by magic (well, actually it was magic, this being a fairytale). Prince Charmer strode though the doors, certain that here was his destiny.

There were a couple more guards inside, but instead of leaning on pikestaffs, these two lay snoring on the flagstone floor. The whole place was coated in dust, festooned with cobwebs, and there was mouse poo sprinkled over everything. A housemaid was dozing on the bottom step of a staircase, a feather duster drooping from her hand. Most people would have thought all this pretty slack, but it simply confirmed that Charmer was in the right place.

Stepping over the housemaid, he set off to bound up the staircase, only to discover that it was one of the spiral kind. Ever since, as a little lad, he had been taken to meet his first challenge at the Royal Palace Adventure Playground, he had known that going round in circles didn't agree with him. Now, on the adventure of a lifetime, he had to stop and throw up out of one of the little slitty windows. But they didn't call him Bold Charmer for nothing and he manfully lurched on to the top of the spiral.

There he came face to face with an ornately decorated archway curtained by the usual cobwebs, which he batted his way through.

And he had done it! Here, in a room decidedly less grotty, on a bed littered with rose petals, lay the Princess Beauty. And beautiful she was, as enchanting as the day she'd nodded off a hundred years before. Her long raven locks were fanned out around her, her long raven lashes rested on her alabaster cheeks, and her soft red lips were curved into a gentle smile, as if she dreamed sweetly as she slept.

Charmer knew his folklore. He knew what he was supposed to do. Bending over her, he kissed her on said soft red lips.

Sleeping Beauty opened her large violet eyes and screamed. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" With that she slapped him hard across the face. "You kissed me!"

Prince Charmer laid his palm across his smarting cheek, blinked hard, and replied. "Yes, I'm pretty certain that's what I'm supposed to do."

The Princess seemed less certain. Her shriek had become more of a hiss, and her lovely eyes now narrowed.

"Did I ask you to kiss me?"

"Well, not exactly." This was not turning out as folklore had led him to expect. "But a kiss is just a kiss."

"Right," the hiss continued. "But it was a non-consensual kiss. I could have you thrown into a dungeon for twenty years on the bread and water diet."

Even she knew that was a slight exaggeration, but it was worth pursuing. She eyed his hose. "And what are you doing, standing there in your undies?" She further eyed him up and down. "All right, so you have got your socks on. But they're sopping wet." She screwed up her perfect Botticelli nose. "And smelly."

Charmer was beginning to feel less charming. After what he'd been through, she could have shown just a bit of gratitude.

"I can explain that. Madam, I am not in my underwear. Fashion can change a lot in a hundred years. These hose are now all the go for the nobility, and my socks are sodden and smelly because I tried to leap across a sodding moat, just to rescue you."

"Rescue me from what?"

He could tell she wasn't warming to him. She was also putting him on the spot.

"Dunno. From sleeping, I suppose. One kiss from me and you're awake after a hundred years. At last, that's how the well-known fairytale goes."

The Princess Beauty punched her rose-petaled bed. "Fairy lairy! Not only do you come in here with stinky wet socks on, but you give me a totally uncalled for kiss and tell me when I can and cannot sleep and how long for!"

Her soft red lips were now curled back quite unpleasantly. "You're all the same, you handsome princes. Riding round the countryside kissing every beautiful girl you see, whether she wants you to or not. Likely marrying her after one date and then expecting her to feel damned lucky and live happily ever after."

If HRH had entertained any hopes of marrying this particular beautiful girl, they were fast disappearing. He couldn't see his happiness lasting forever, even if hers did.

Beauty had obviously decided that the fairytale was over.

"Now piss off," she said. "You've got three, or I'll call the castle guards."

"You can't," Charmer pointed out. "They're asleep."

"Not if I scream loud enough," she warned. "One... two..."

HRH slopped his way out through the arch.

"Sweet dreams, bumface," he farewelled over his shoulder.

He ran down the spiral staircase, (much easier than going up). Even though the castle doors opened by magic as usual, he did manage to slam them behind him in the faces of the guards, still groggy after their big sleep. Without hesitation, he paddled across the moat, put on his boots and picked up his sword.

"Well, nuts to her!" As he strode towards the thicket of tangled prickles, briars and thorns, he recalled having heard somewhere about a gorgeous girl with a name that sounded like a pudding. Jamcrumble? Icedkunzle? It mattered not. The main thing was that this exquisite creature was locked at the top of a hugely high tower. However, she was said to have incredibly long golden hair. So long it was, that if she let it down from her window, a handsome prince could climb up it and rescue her.

"That's more like it!" muttered the charming Charmer. He'd never actually done hair-climbing, but how hard could it be? If that stunner was in need of rescue, he was her man. That settled, our hero resumed his lashing and slashing with even more vigour than ever.

So there you have it. All the richness and wisdom of ancient storytelling.