The Crown

I. Queen Alice

2. Write a final blog entry (or static item) to commemorate this event including all you’ve learned (or not) with this process.

The Crown

“It’s not just for me,” said the Author to his friends. “We all helped along the way and, without each one of us, this might never have been done. The achievement belongs to all of us.”

“But we can’t all wear the crown,” objected Euripides, the Phoenician tailor. “You wrote it down so you should have the prize at the end.”

“Did I write it?” asked the Author. “We all did in our own way. If any of us had done something other than what we did, or said an entirely different thing, the story would be changed. I’m just a camera, recording events as we go along.”

“And where would we be withaht you?” This from Grundle the troll, his simplicity leaping immediately to the point. “As I remembers it, you was the one what made us up.”

The Author frowned. “Well, I guess that’s true. But then, where would I be without you? Every single one of you. Yes, even you, Senna. I know you only had a brief word at the beginning. But I didn’t feel right putting words in your mouth.”

“No problem,” replied Senna. “I’m more of a doer than a talker anyway.”

The veldskoen raised an arm. “Just a moment," he said. “You mentioned putting words in Senna’s mouth. Doesn’t that mean you’re admitting to creating it all? In which case, the crown is yours and you should wear it.” He looked around triumphantly, certain that he’d proved his point.

“Oh, very clever,” responded the Author, shifting a little as though uncomfortable. “That was true sometimes but, at others, you were the ones telling me about yourselves. Besides, I’d look ridiculous wearing that thing. I propose that we just put it in a glass case so everyone can look at it. Like they do in the Tower of London.”

There was a murmur of approval at this suggestion and it seemed that the gathering was in agreement. Then Alice piped up. “But you should have something for your hard work,” she said. “Some sort of reward for those hours of toil and fret.”

“I’ve already had far more than I expected,” returned the Author.

“Such as?” questioned the Dodo.

The Author put a hand to his chin as he thought about this. “For one thing, I’ve learned plenty about Lewis Carroll and his books. It’s been so long since I last read them that much of it was almost new to me. And that allowed me to see things in a new light and appreciate his writing so much more. He’s taught me lots about writing in verse too. And I think it’s improved my attempts in that line, to mimic the way he wrote nonsense poems.

"Then there’s having to do things that run contrary to my nature. Those community things, for instance, they were pure torture for me. It really isn’t me to accost people and write in their notebooks uninvited. But I did it and the world didn’t end. Which is another lesson for me - people are usually much nicer than you think.”

“Than you think,” purred Pookie. “I know people better than you.”

“Cats bring out the best in people," answered the Author. “Of course you think they’re nice.

“Anyway, I’ve had other rewards in Wonderland," continued the Author. “I had the chance to write about things I haven’t in the past. There was even one where I was asked to write about history and no one ever does that. It’s all good experience and leaves me feeling a bit more confident about what I can do.

“And let’s not forget all the other writers involved. I got to read a lot of stuff and see how different people could make things in other ways than my own. There are some brilliant pieces in there, wonderful tales and excellent poetry. It’s been a pleasure to work with such gifted authors and writers.”

“So you’ve gained a lot from the experience, it seems,” said the Gecko. “Is it enough to compensate you for the hard work and sleepless nights?”

“You’ve been spying on me,” said the Author. “But yes, it’s been worth all the sweat and tiredness at the end of the day. Really does me good to be stretched like this.

“But where’s Amilcar? I’ve not heard anything from him yet.”

The hermit’s voice rose from behind the crowd. “I’m here but just listening. Didn’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Your contribution is always welcome, you know,” assured the Author. “Surely you have something to say?”

“Well, I did think of something,” said Amilcar, as he squeezed between Grundle and the Gecko to get to the front. “It occurred to me that you’re going to have a problem, not having so many things to do. I mean, you’re in the habit now, working away all day and going to bed tired out. You’re going to find it hard to go back to a slower pace, aren’t you?”

The Author looked at him with a wry grin on his face. “You, Amilcar, are a wise old bird, you know. And not that old, either.”


Word Count: 853