Universal Fairy Tale Care

The other day my daughter said something that caught me completely off guard. We were watching A Tale Dark and Grimm on Netflix (which if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend) and there was a reference to Rumpelstiltskin. She turned to me and asked who Rumpelstiltskin was.

Reader, I was flabbergasted!

How could it be that my child didn’t know a seminal character from fairy tales? I remember reading the story, among others, to her when she was little. It was the story that started my Fairytale Feminista journey asking the question where fairy tales fit in modern storytelling and life. Where did I go wrong?  

It really got me thinking about universality and storytelling. When I was a kid, my friends and I basically watched the same shows, read the same books, and went to the same movies. We had common reference points to communicate with each other. We all knew what it meant when you said, “I feel like Cinderella” or “I’m looking for my Prince Charming”. Now, everyone can have follow a sub-sub-genre of anything that caters to seemingly an audience of a hundred, a dozen, or even less. With all these “curated media experiences” we’ve lost something connective.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s wonderful and amazing that we’ve expanded the lexicon of storytelling by adding more people and experiences that were otherwise lacking (read: European and patriarchal to diverse in all senses of the word). I am happy that I finally see myself in some of my favorite genres. I also miss talking about a book I’m reading with friends and family because they’ve never heard of it.

What does this mean for something as arcane as fairy tales? Will their origins get lost or will the entire genre simply disappear? I know it’s not a dire threat, what with Disney and fairy tale retellings, but even that might one day lose its appeal.

Photo by rikka ameboshi on Pexels.com

In the meantime, I will continue to watch A Tale Dark and Grimm and fill in any gaps in what I consider a vital education for my daughter. Wish me luck!

Reader, do you think there are still universal stories or should we let go of that idea all together?

Do Names Matter?

When I start a story, I begin with the conflict. I ask a question and then I try and find characters and settings that help answer it. It’s a very research paper way to write fiction, I just realized, but it works for me. Some people start with a character or even a name. I, on the other hand, start with the story and then have a dedicated name day.

It’s a day when I break out my big book of baby names and flip through looking for monikers that will have deep meaning or sound melodic to the ear. But that always comes later. I want to know more about the characters before I saddle them with names. It’s the same with place names.

Fairy tales don’t have this problem. How many Jacks have a story? Little Red Riding Hood must have been a placeholder that was never fixed. Does anyone know Sleeping Beauty’s name? And yet Cocklestrutshell and Frosty Ash don’t have quite the appeal of Rumpelstiltskin and Snow White.

I remember complaining to a friend that speculative fiction writers have this unspoken contest to outdo each other with names to the point that trying to pronounce them takes away from the experience. I, for example, try to use as many Latino names as possible (because I rarely found them in my books growing up and even now), but I also think about the English speaker and pronunciation. Ana works for most tongues, but Asunción de Maria, can be a mouthful.

So, when do names matter? Do they require deep meaning? Or is it like an architectural flourish that a builder adds, but the occupant of the space barely notices?

Fairy Justice

Imagine if you will Rapunzel still wandering the swamp with her twins in tow and the prince elsewhere, still blind and searching for his love.Imagine the maiden in Rumpelstiltskin handing over her baby to the fairy who demanded her as payment.Imagine the Woodsman never happened by Grannie’s house and Red Riding Hood still being digested in the stomach of the wolf.Fairy tales appeal to our very basic sense of justice. They’re so popular in childhood because for a child everything is concrete. There’s a bad person and a good person. The bad person is punished and the good one is given a new start.It isn’t until we’re older that we see the gray areas. The lack of agency. The casual brutality. The inequalities. And yet, we return to these stories or some modern derivative to feel a sense of vindication.Sadly, life rarely works out so neatly. Bad people continue to behave badly without correction or condemnation. Good people are overlooked It contributes to a sense of disillusionment that only the simply ordered world of storytelling can assuage.Sometimes fairy tales are the balm we need to ease the crazy that is modern life.

Plans and Villainy

I'm a person who likes preparation. I've always said my superpower is research. It comes from my curiosity and imagination--two things essential for any person, but especially a writer.This past weekend I attended a writer's conference for fantasy and needless to say I was underwhelmed. I spent months preparing. I researched the speakers (where possible because the panels weren't announced until a week before), I printed out marketing material for my current book, A Smuggler's Path and for my upcoming novella, The Cemetery Circle (unrelated to my Path series), and ordered a box of my book to sell at the consignment table.The night before I packed and made sure everything was ready both for my conference and at home. And it was... well...I was a great student. I don't say that with any conceit, but it was something I was really good at because it was the culmination of my all my strengths--preparation, curiosity, and imagination. I knew that if I worked hard, I'd get good grades and inevitably praise from my teachers. Sadly, I've discovered that's not how writing works. All the plans in the world does not guarantee that I'll be either praised or noticed. Not an uplifting thought, but a true one.That got me thinking about villains. Have you noticed that they're the one's that make plans and prepare in fairy tales. The Evil Queen didn't just wing it and poison Snow White--that took planning! You think Rumpelstiltskin hadn't run that "straw into gold" scam on some other desperate waif? He was way too practiced for that. The angry fairy in Sleeping Beauty had weeks to seethe about not getting an invite. Girlfriend had a plan! It's why they end up monologuing--they need to share all that hard work with someone.Only heroes get to make it up as they go along. They're saved because of good looks or charm. They show up with skills, but no preparation.So where does that leave me? With twenty unsold books and wondering if plans are really the way to go. Or maybe it gives me a little insight into the mind of fairy tale villains. When so much planning goes into an idea, is it any wonder they go a little mad?

FTBC The Fairy

FFT readers, I have a confession to make. I accidentally used this story as a post a few weeks ago entitled, Diamonds or Toads. I wrote, in detail, the plot as well as my feelings about its subject matter, which you can read about here. With that said, I still want to know your thoughts about this story. Reading it was like reading a precursor to Cinderella, which bares out because both were written (or should I say “collected”) by Charles Perrault. In fact, it is believed (but I can’t confirm this) that the good daughter was made into a step-daughter to lessen the similarities to Cinderella (not a very good try).What I liked about the story was how quickly it was all resolved. In Cinderella we have to suffer through two balls, a kingdom-wide search and two mean step-sisters trying to glom onto her man. Diamonds and Toads or The Fairy, as Perrault named it, has a good daughter—who helps a fairy in disguise, is granted wealth, and wins a prince. The bad daughter is too haughty to help the fairy, is immediately struck down with vipers and toads dropping from her mouth and is kicked out of her house. However, I do have some issues with the endings for both girls. For the bad one, I think it would have been more edifying if she learned her lesson and became a better person. As for the good daughter, I know the greatest reward any girl in the 17^th century was expected to want was an excellent match, but I’m calling foul on this one. Precious gems and sweet-smelling flowers fall out of her mouth and a prince wants to marry her? You have to wonder if it’s for the lady or the loot. Remember Rumpelstiltskin? A girl’s life is threatened three nights in a row and her reward is marrying the guy who issued the threats. That said, I do like the story (sans the creepy ending) and think it’s a great one to revise. Any takers? I would love to hear a new ending for this tale. Next month: Jack the Giant Killer

The Tale of Red Riding Hood...Part II

When we last saw our heroine, she was leaving a tavern in search of an adventure and being followed by a mysterious man with a nefarious reputation.Red continued down the path through the middle of town. The sun wasn't warm enough to take off her namesake cloak. The chill in the air didn't seem to bother all the townsfolk walking about and stealing glances at it. But whether they were staring at her or her clothing was of little importance to Red. She was more concerned with finding a quest. What she didn't know was that adventure was coming for her.

“Are you lost little girl?” asked the man as he approached.

“I am neither little or lost, sir,” she replied making a point not to look the man in the eye. Her hand instinctively went under her cloak to assure herself the ax the woodsman had given her was still accessible. The reflex was not lost on the man and it gave him an idea.

“Ah, an adventurer. I knew from the look of you that you were no ordinary girl…young woman,” said the man warming to his theme. “I think I may be able to help you.”

“I do not need help,” she replied, but she stopped nonetheless. Something in his voice was compelling. Then again she remembered the flattering wolf who led her astray. “Who are you?”

“I am a traveler, like yourself. I was going to the capitol, but I’ve been told there is a fearsome band of outlaws living on the roadway and walking it alone has become treacherous. I had hoped to get a group of people to walk with me. Outlaws are less likely to attack a group. Sadly, none will make the journey with me for they are frightened. Perhaps the party that came with you would allow me to join them?”

“I came alone for I can take care of myself. Wolves are all the same whether on two feet or four,” she replied with a smirk. The man stifled a chuckle at her arrogance.

“Perhaps we two can share the journey together. I can see you are quite capable and it would set my mind at ease to have someone such as you as a companion. My name is Rummy,” he said with an odd smile.

“I am Red and I would happily accompany you on your journey,” she replied feeling the adventure about to being.

What could another trip through the woods hurt? She thought. They decided it would be best to waiting until first light before heading out on their trip. That night, while Red was sleeping in her bed dreaming of heroic acts, her traveling companion was making his way into the woods to make ready for their departure. A low growl carried on the wind.

The next morning, bright and early, Red and Rummy set off for the capital. Rummy said little and Red preferred it that way. They walked in silence through the green wood looking for signs of the band of thieves. On and on they trudged until they reached a section of the woods that was dark despite the midday sun.

“I believe we should stop here and have our lunch. We are nearly half-way to the capital by now,” said Rummy in a loud voice. It felt out of place in the dark of the woods and startled Red.

“It’s best to press on and save our hunger for the capital. Stopping in the woods is never a good idea,” she replied remembering smooth words from a mouth that had eaten her.

“No, no. I cannot take another step without a little rest. We have not seen or heard anyone for hours. Perhaps the outlaws have moved on to a better location,” said Rummy, sitting down and opening his pack. Red was starting to think it would have been better to walk alone, but the sight of food melted some of her resolve. She sat down and opened her pack, as well.

Rummy chewed slowly driving Red mad with impatience. As she was about to give voice to her irritation, she heard rustling in the bushes. She stood up and looked down at a smiling Rummy with teeth she could almost remember.

A pack of wolves circled their picnic area bearing their teeth and growling. Rummy looked completely at ease and Red realized that she had been tricked. One of the wolves crouched low, coiling his muscles for a high pounce. Red ran through the trees narrowly avoiding his lunge. She could hear them running on the underbrush, snapping twigs and gaining ground. The high laugh of Rummy drifted through the trees, mingling with the howls of her pursuers...

The Straw Maiden (aka Rumpelstiltskin) Part 3

When last we saw our heroine, a small man had entered her chamber filled with straw unnoticed."Can I help?" ventured the visitor. Startled, the crying maiden failed to respond. Wiping her face and smoothing her rumpled hair she looked at the man who had just entered. He was no bigger than an adolescent, but had the eyes of an old soul. Despite her shock, she found nothing threatening about him."Unless you can spin straw into gold, I fear, I can only ask you for a handkerchief," she said with a wry smile."Lucky for you I can do both," he said as he handed her a crisp handkerchief. She looked at him and finally took in his whole appearance. He was not as small as she first thought, just slight of build. His face was kind, but guarded as though he was unsure of his welcome. But he quickly warmed when at his task. The straw became gold filigree before her eyes."What can I give you in return?" she asked fearful of his demands. She was not naive to the ways of the world and knew some men would press an advantage."Your company. Tell me about yourself and I'll tell you as much as I can about myself," he replied. They talked for hours, hesitantly at first and then as old friends, laughing and sharing. When dawn broke the work was done and, fearing they would never meet again, she pressed the small bracelet into his hand. Before either could say more, the door was being unlocked and he vanished.The king swept in and barely noticed the look of contempt on the maiden's face. He was hungry for the sight of so much gold it blinded him to all else. He finally acknowledged her with a cursory nod."Come with me," he said with a smile that was not for her. He kept her with him all day although he made no attempt at conversation. For her part, she kept her eyes downcast partly to continue her show of modesty, but also giving herself the opportunity to think about her night visitor. At the end of the day, she was exhausted and assumed the guard would return her to her room. Instead a turn down a new corridor brought her to another room with enough straw to dwarf last night's offering. The same spinning wheel stood in the middle of the straw mountain. After a sleepless night and a day of being observed yet ignored, despair gave way to sleep.She awoke to the familiar sound of the spinning wheel and her friend in quiet concentration addressing the task at hand."I brought you something to remember me by," he said over his shoulder. "Look in my satchel."Inside she found a book of herb lore and healing. She smiled her first real smile since last seeing him and its warmth reached him. She was touched that he remembered her speaking of her wish to learn more about healing to help others. The spinning took most of the night to finish this time, but they passed it as pleasantly as the night before. Before leaving he was emboldened to kiss her. She pressed her mother's ring into his hand and asked him to return for her.That day was much like the last except the king smiled at her more. Perhaps it was to put her at ease, but it had the opposite effect. On this night the king himself led her away. She didn't know whether to fear another room of straw or his bedchamber, but neither choice would have been welcomed. Nevertheless he opened the door to an unfathomable amount of straw, and with a look of pure arrogance said "If you finish this by morning, not only will I spare you and your father, but I shall make you my queen."He did not stay for her reaction, so sure was he of her gratitude and the honor she must feel. She dropped to the ground and with such incentive as marriage to this odious man started calculating how she could save herself and her father. It was at this point that her spinning friend appeared from the shadows."I have tried in vain to rescue your father, but he knows of the kings plans. He hopes to see you married to him and knows you will be well provided for," he said with a heavy heart. Her hand had found its way to him and they stood for a moment regarding each other. Then he set to work.He was like a man possessed working furiously and silently. He finished well before sunrise and in a rush of words, tears and the thought of never seeing each other again, were soon entwined on a bed of gold thread. He promised to return for her with her father to escape. He left then, but the memory of their shared gift stayed with her.The king arrived as always and was awed by the golden glow "Now we shall be wed," he said looking at the gold. For her part, she looked to the shadows and hoped her spinner would return in time. It was at that moment, she realized she never asked his name......To Be Continued...

The Straw Maiden (aka Rumpelstiltskin) Part 1

(See intro here)Know you the story of the straw maiden? Perhaps it is known to you as a different name, but while another would say no matter, I say it does. Names hold power and this story will show you how much.Long ago, under a harvest moon, a fairy happened upon a birth. The fairy was new to the world of men and was intrigued by the baby. Her name was one with which he was unfamiliar, so he thought of her as the Bright One. As she grew, the fairy would look in on her from time to time. The fairy learned of the Bright One's love of nature and her dislike of the small, confined space of the mill. He shared in her joys and felt all her sorrows, but always at a discreet distance. Her worst sorrow was the death of her mother and consequently when all her troubles began.The miller was pained by the loss of his wife and took to late nights of drinking and bluster. It came to pass, as it usually does with those whose tongues loosen with drink, that he boasted of his daughter."Her beauty and skills are truly remarkable. She would have made her mother proud," he said on more than one occasion. And while there were those who had heard his remarks previously remained silent, there were newcomers to the tavern. Sadly these strangers became mean and abusive when fueled by drink."What talent could she possibly have that other maids don't? Go home old man - perhaps that talented daughter of yours can cure your addled mind!" laughed a stranger along with his companions. They laughed uproariously making the man feel shame. Perhaps a naughty imp was hiding in the corner of that tavern or maybe the miller did lose his wits for a moment, for none - not even he - could explain what he said next."My daughter has a wondrous gift. She can spin straw into gold. What's more her beauty and talent are fit for a king!" Now most of the patrons laughed quietly to themselves having known the miller and her daughter for years. However, there was a table with a single man who took note.Conall was a matchmaker whose circumstances had him in a desperate situation. He had promised a king in a neighboring realm an amazing bride and was nearing the end of his deadline. Not to mention he was in competition with another matchmaker for the bride price. Quickly and quietly, he settled his account and offered the tavern keeper a handsome sum for the name and location of the mill. Then with all haste, he raced off to see the king.Days passed and the miller forgot his boasts in the tavern. Therefore it was with some surprise that he found two armed riders with livery accompanied by an unarmed gentleman waiting at his mill. He was further confused when they asked after his daughter. The gentleman, who admitted to being a matchmaker, looked nervous and stole furtive glances at the riders who had their hands on their sword hilts....To Be Continued...

Story #1 Rumpelstiltskin

As written by J.L.C. & W.C. Grimm (hereafter to be called the Grimm brothers), Rumpelstiltskin is the story of a miller who brags to his king that his beautiful and clever daughter can spin straw into gold. The greedy king takes the girl and tells her she must spin a rooms full of gold, each one bigger than the last, on pain of death. Each night the maiden cries and a little man comes offering to do the task for her at a price. On the third and last night the king says he will marry her if she spins one more room full of straw into gold. Stripped of her possessions from the last two nights of work, the little man demands her first born child by the king. She agrees, the task is completed and the miller's daughter becomes queen. She soon forgets her promise, but after becoming a mother the little man returns to collect his prize. She begs for him to reconsider and offers him half the kingdom, but he refuses. Instead he gives her three days to learn his name. She searches the kingdom and on the last day a palace guard discovers an unusual little man singing to himself in the woods. He reveals his name is Rumpelstiltskin. The lady rejoices, says his name and a fuming Rumpelstiltskin leaves without his prize.Most notably the story does not end with the prerequisite "...and they lived happily ever after". Even the Grimm brothers understood that this story would be a stretch when it came to happiness. When I read this to my daughter the first time I had so many questions that I fully admit I doubt I had when I was her age.

1. Why did her father brag to the king about something she clearly couldn't do?
2. How was she able to marry a man who, the day before, was going to kill her?
3. Who goes around listening at doors for crying maidens who need their straw spun into gold?

   I already had an opinion written out about this story, but what struck me the most while I wrote out the summary was the importance of names. With only one exception, everyone in the story had a title, but not a name. The story is resolved by the power of knowing someone's name. Yet we never learn the name of the miller, queen, king, palace guard, or the prize, the royal baby (which in some versions dies). It's things like this that beg for completion. In an attempt to answer my own questions about the story, I've rewritten it, but opted to retain the feel of storytelling. Click here for my version of the story, The Straw Maiden.

BTW, I completely appreciate the observation that I'm starting my posts with a story about the importance of names and I have not included my own name in this blog. I too believe names are important and feel a Rumpelstiltskin-like desire to guard it ;)