Showing posts with label dragons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dragons. Show all posts

Tuesday, 19 August 2025

Here be Dragons - by Lu Hersey

No county has more dragon myths associated with it than Somerset (where I live), and I've recently been making a study of local folkore on the subject. In case you're interested, here are some useful bits of dragonlore I've come across so far.


I previously thought it was always the same story: dragon takes up residence somewhere, is very annoying to locals as it eats its way through surrounding livestock and people, until a brave dragon slayer goes forth and slays the beast. Order restored.

Turns out, it's not that simple. For a start, when is a dragon not a dragon but a wyrm, or a wyvern? Here's a brief explanation, in case you need one...

Dragons
The dragon, or firedrake, is the best known, and the one fiction writers are most fond of. This beast is a gigantic reptilian creature with four legs, big, bat-like wings, and a covering of armoured scales. Usually sporting horns or a crest, it has massive, pointed, sharp teeth to chomp you with, and huge claws to swipe at you. It can lay waste to vast areas of land and kill any number of people and animals - and that's the problem.  Worst of all, it breathes out enough fire to cook the unfortunate hero sent to slay it - though luckily (for the hero, not the dragon) there'll always be the one vulnerable spot that a trusty spear can penetrate, kill the poor beast and save the day. These creatures also sometimes have magical powers of invisibility and self healing, just to give the hero a bit more to contend with. Sometimes they guard treasure, which helps make them worthy targets.



Wyrms
Unlike dragons, wyrms don't have legs. They're more like massive snakes with bodies as thick as oak trunks. They don't breathe fire, preferring to spit venom - and their diet of choice is (weirdly) milk (either cow or human), livestock, and of course, people. 
One version of the legend of the Gurt Wyrm of Shervage Wood specifies it eating two gypsies and a shepherd. (Such detail adds a certain something to the story...) If chopped in pieces, the wyrm can reform, which makes it difficult to kill. Fortunately, when the Gurt Wyrm was chopped in half by a woodsman, the two halves went off in different directions, saving the woodsman from being eaten - and leading to the creature's sad demise.



Wyverns
Wyverns are like dragons, but with two legs instead of four - and are, apparently, a bit smaller. They also have a sting in their tail like a scorpion. Most wyverns can fly. They were thought to carry diseases, and were blamed for outbreaks of the plague as well as other illnesses, both of people and livestock. I've found it very hard to pin down a specific case of a wyvern, but they feature widely in heraldry and church carvings.



Basilisks
Specific cases of basilisks are even harder to track down. Legend has it that basilisks are born when cockerels lay eggs (which is probably why it's hard to find examples). They are only a few feet long, and unlike others in the dragon family, kill by stare alone. The only creature immune from the stare of the basilisk is a weasel.



Not all our dragon legends fit into one of the above categories, but most do. Some guard treasure, some don't. Some seem to symbolise the church's battle against paganism, and others are connected to features in the landscape. Dragons appeared over an extensive period of time, though a few in Somerset seem to date back specifically to the time of King Alfred - possibly with a link to his battles against the Danish Vikings, who arrived in boats with huge dragons carved on the prow. As in all myth, there are usually elements of truth bound up in the stories.

Or perhaps dragons actually exist in some parallel reality, appearing for a time and disappearing? Some reported dragon sightings are surprisingly recent. A French farmer encountered what appeared to be a dragon attacking one of his cows in a field one night in 1978. An Icelandic man saw one emerging from the volcano Eyjafjallajokull in 2010, and a dragon appeared to several witnesses in Wisconsin in 2007.

Perhaps strangest of all, a group of ten Surrey ghost hunters witnessed the appearance of at least two dragons at Waverley Abbey in December 2023. It might sound unlikely, but the witnesses swear the strange creatures appeared really close to them, and they found the experience far more terrifying than any ghostly encounter. So if you desperately want to see a dragon, perhaps be careful what you wish for...


Lu Hersey
Website: Lu Hersey


Tuesday, 30 September 2014

The strange things children’s writers do – Lari Don

Yesterday, I helped dress a dragon in a car park.
The dragonmobile, at Pirniehall Primary in Edinburgh

But it’s not the strangest thing I’ve done as a children’s writer.

I've recce'd a castle, going in undercover as a tourist, to discover the best way to steal their most famous artefact.

I've interviewed a vet about how to heal a fairy’s dislocated wing, and a boat builder about how to fit a centaur on a rowing boat.

I've lost half a dozen journalists in a maze. (I guided them out again eventually. Most of them.)

I've told Celtic legends on an iron age hillfort, fairytales in an inner city woodland, and Viking myths in a cave.

And all of these things have been an integral part of my job as a children’s writer. Because writing is not just sitting at a keyboard and tapping out chapters.

The research (chatting to vets about fairy injuries and sneaking about castles) is often as much fun as the writing. And the promotion (dragon dressing and outdoor storytelling) is almost as important as the sitting at my desk imagining.

I suspect that as a children’s writer, you have to be just as imaginative in your research methods and your promotion ideas as you do in your cliffhangers and your characterisations.

But I can’t take credit for the dragon in the carpark. I did create a shiny friendly blue dragon, as one of the main characters in my Fabled Beast series. However, I had moved onto creating other characters in other stories, when my publishers decided to give the Fabled Beasts Chronicles new covers, and announced that they were going to promote the covers with a dragonflight tour.


Then the very talented marketing executive at Floris Books designed a dragon costume for her own car. And she’ll be spending most of the next fortnight driving me round beautiful bits of Scotland and the north of England (yesterday Edinburgh, today Perth, then Aberdeenshire and Penrith, as we get more confident and stretch our wings!) in a car which we dress up as a dragon in the carpark of various primary schools, then invite the children out to ooh and aah at our shiny blue dragon and her shimmering flames, before I go inside to chat with the pupils about cliff-hangers and quests.

So, this week, I’ve already learnt how to put a dragon’s jaws on at speed. And I’ve discovered that if the engine hasn’t cooled down yet, those flames coming down from the bonnet are actually warm!
Very brave Forthview Primary pupils sitting on dragon's flames!

So, yes, I do strange things. But I have fun! And I hope that my enjoyment comes across in my books, and in my author events.

I don’t think the adventures I create would be nearly as interesting without the odd conversations I have while I’m researching them, or the weird things I do to promote them.

So – what do you think? Should I just be sensible and stay indoors writing? Or is a little bit of weird now and then an effective way to make books, reading and writing more exciting for children?
 

Lari Don is the award-winning author of 22 books for all ages, including a teen thriller, fantasy novels for 8 – 12s, picture books, retellings of traditional tales and novellas for reluctant readers. 

Tuesday, 7 May 2013

Here be dragons - Josh Lacey


It's seven o'clock in the morning and I'm just about to leave the house to catch a train to Essex, where I'll be visiting schools, talking to kids about my new book. 


But today will be slightly different to my usual school visits, because I won't be alone. I'll be working with Garry Parsons, the illustrator. 

While I'm talking and reading from the book, he'll be drawing dragons, gorillas, iguanas, ice creams, ballerinas and more dragons, plus whatever else emerges from his imagination and the imaginations of the children watching us. 

Garry illustrated The Dragonsitter, which was published a year ago, and The Dragonsitter Takes Off, which came out last week, and we've done a few events together. 




That's a picture that Garry drew on the wall at Kingham Primary School during the Chipping Norton Festival. We've also done a couple of events at the Roald Dahl Museum together, and today and tomorrow we're going to be in Essex, on a mini-tour organised by the Just Imagine Story Centre in Chelmsford.

We've gradually evolving a nice routine. He talks and draws; I talk and read. 



Writing is lonely, solitary and terribly slow. You have an idea. You think about it for a long time. Then you spend even longer sitting at your desk, spinning words. Of course I think it's worth explaining this curious process; but any explanation is necessarily a bit detached, and requires a leap of the imagination which can sometimes be difficult for a twitchy kid sitting on the floor of the hall, looking at the sun flooding through the big windows and smelling the lunch bubbling away in the kitchens. 

An illustrator's work is far more immediate. Here's a blank piece of paper. Here's a pen. And here - scribble, scribble, scribble - is a gorilla riding a unicycle. Or a grumpy ballerina. Or a big hungry dragon flying through the air. 

Talking about writing is like asking someone to believe in magic; whereas drawing a picture is like doing the magic right there in front of them. 

I'm not sure what Garry and I were expecting when we decided to do these events together. Slightly to my surprise - and, I suspect, to his too - we've discovered that working together like this, author and illustrator standing side by side, reading and drawing, is the perfect way to introduce children to a book.


Josh Lacey