Once upon a time I was overcome with a crippling writer's block. Where once I could fill notebook upon notebook with long rhyming poetry that spoke of the depths of my soul; I suddenly had nothing. I would stare at the blankness of a page quizzically; unable to write a single word. Or I would write lines and lines of words and find that none of them fit. My desk was mess of crumpled up prose and my mind was a mess of disconnect.
During my writing drought I thought back on times growing up when I had cursed and grumbled about my "boring gift." Although my parents had assured me vehemently that the ability to write was a wonderful talent that could take me very far, I thought it would be much neater to be an actress or even a soccer player. Upon this reflection I scolded myself. I should never have called my gift ordinary, and I should never have wanted any other.
Eventually I wrote again, and as I began to feel the incredible rush of words from brain to paper, I swore I would never ever sell it short.
To me, the Wee World Wonder in my story is that even the things we think are too wee to be significant are wonderful!