The Witch

As a young girl, I wanted to be a witch. They were mystical and wise. People came to them for help. Most importantly, witches had magic. They could conjure spells, brew potions, and divine the future. In short, they effected real change with power, knowledge and will. Who wants to be a princess when that's available?According to fairy tales, everyone.Princess-hood is usually a desired outcome for most women in fairy tales. It usually allowed them to leave a difficult or abusive situation. Cinderella abandoned being a scullery. Snow White was saved from the creepy obsessions of her step mother. Sleeping Beauty got to leave the woods and wake her entire kingdom. In the latter two cases, they were born princesses, but it didn’t mean much until they found a prince. What if they wanted different things?The Evil queen never needed a man’s permission to exert her will.But we’re taught to root for the vulnerable princess (or scullery) and despise the witch. To be fair, witches who use their power to kill little girls who might be prettier than them are despicable. However, I try and look at it from their point of view. The world in which these women lived considered magic evil, especially in a woman. Her only acceptable power was perceived power, i.e. the power she could wield through her husband or other male figure. Historically speaking, the witch represented everything a patriarchal society feared—a woman with power over men and the natural world. So, if your only acceptable power is being pretty enough to convince men to follow your orders, is it any wonder a prettier, younger woman is a threat? She shouldn’t have killed the girl, but her fear was real.I’m an adult now and I’m still fascinated with witches--their mysteries and knowledge a source of endless study. They’re my go-to paranormal/fantasy read and my preferred heroine to write about usually has some supernatural abilities (as well as other strengths). Not only does it bring a little magic to the everyday, but it always reminds me of my power. And maybe a potion or two…

Bad Choices and the Epic Adventure

A couple of days ago I was reading a post on a blog I follow, Life in the Realm of Fantasy, and it posed the question about crisis points for a character. Her example was driving down a road where the signs are missing, but the character keeps driving anyway. I think of a fork in the road—one looks peaceful but long, the other ominous yet short. A character takes the short cut. If you have a minute, you should definitely read her post, Crisis and the Point of No Return—it’ll get you thinking. It certainly did that for me. Are bad decisions necessary for a good story?Try this story: Once there was a woman who received a mysterious letter in the mail. In it she was promised adventures and a great treasure if she agrees to participate in a game fraught with peril. She tears up the letter and says, “Do you think I’m crazy?” and continues with her day.It was a sound decision. Who in their right mind responds to letters from strangers promising prizes only if the participant agrees to danger? Maybe that’s why so many fantasy novels take place in the past—our modern minds imagine scams, conspiracies, and other rational explanations. The scenario only becomes a story if the woman agrees to the terms, which the everyday person would consider a bad idea. It’s what makes books, TV shows and movies so appealing.As a child, I was very practical. I got into trouble like any other kid, but I was rarely foolish. I saved that kind of thinking for my reading. In reading I was allowed to take the forbidden path and hunt for treasure. My books were about kids who jumped on their bikes after dark and headed for the haunted house in order to free some ghost from a curse. I watched the Goonies and thought they were nuts, but I was glad someone was crazy enough to poke in dank caves for me.Writers are pushed to make situations difficult for their characters. In fantasy, it isn’t enough that the protagonist has a speech impediment—she has to be the only person who can read the magic spell that saves the kingdom and do so without a mistake. Why does she have to do it? If any of us were presented with a similar situation, we’d hide under our beds until the crisis was over.So, does it follow that bad decisions lead to good stories? Maybe yes, maybe no, but sensible decisions rarely become novels.Any thoughts?Special thanks to Connie Jasperson, blogger for Life in the Realm of Fantasy, whose great post sparked an idea for my bloggers block!

Fairy Tale "Book" Club

I cordially invite you to join a unique book club.It's the easiest book club you'll ever participate in because you don't have to read a book! (Unless you want to because I never discourage reading.)The Fairy Tale Book Club will only ask its members to read one story a month and then leave comments about them or fill out a simple questionnaire.This month's selection: The Goose Girl by The Brothers GrimmHappy reading!

My Guest Post on The Once and Future Podcast!

Hello Readers!I'm excited to write that I was given the opportunity to participate in a guest post in anticipation of my fantasy novel, A Smuggler's Path, being released later this summer!Please take a moment to visit the website, The Once and Future Podcast, and then check out my post on their blog and read about the need for more heroic mothers in speculative fiction.Thanks for the support!

In search of other stories--part one

As you know, dear readers, I have a complicated relationship with fairy tales. On the one hand, they're a great source of historical values and entertainment. But on the other, the anachronisms are hard to stomach sometimes. Especially as a woman.Even with my serious case of doublethink, I seek the stories out to better understand them, and to understand where we came from. Not only do I read fairy tales and folklore, but I also love mythology. I read Greek myths as a child and thought they were the perfect mix between fantasy and history, just like a fairy tale. And their purpose was to explain the unexplained. That led me to Norse mythology, Celtic folklore, and then it hit me. What about the other stories?I know I've beat this drum before--diversity and inclusion is something I'm passionate about--but I'm not talking about that exactly. The other stories I'm talking about are related to other cultures. I think I remember learning about a trickster storyteller from an African culture and one or two stories about Hindu gods, but very little else. As a Latina and specifically a Puerto Rican, I learned nothing about Taino mythology. Why is that? Honestly, the only answer I have for that is if they're not looked for, they can't be found.Indigenous peoples all over the world have myths and legends that are strikingly similar and vastly different than the ones from northern Europe. Stories about fairies, little people, monstrous creatures, gods and goddesses. These are stories that should be available and told again and again.In the coming weeks I hope to do my part, small as it may be, to help shed light on other stories and show how similar, and how different they are from the stories we all know. I hope you'll share stories, too. 

I can doublethink, can you?

"The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function."                                                                                            - F. Scott Fitzgerald

It was Fitzgerald's idea, but George Orwell gave it a name.Nothing better describes my feelings about fairy tales is doublethink. Doublethink is a simultaneous belief in two contradictory ideas, according to Merriam-Webster's dictionary.I think it's a great notion for a fairy tale feminista, who likes reading stories that are anachronistic and hard to like when they're so bad for women. But doublethink is all about perspective. There are days when the thought of reading a fairy tale just feeds my anger to some article I've read about sexism. Other times I can see wisdom through the old-fashioned archetypes.Here's a list of some of my doublethinks:

1. I love walking on rainy days, but hate getting water on my face.
2. Auntie Mame is still one of my favorite movies even though I cringe when the racist representation of the Asian butler comes on screen. And speaking of movies...
3. Romantic comedies are ridiculous, and I still watch them.
4. Cold days are better when spent in warm rooms. (Not really a doublethink, more of a truism)
5. I think fireflies are magical and wish all flying insects would disappear.

Do you have any doublethinks?[display-posts category="WinsomeWords" image_size="large" date_format="F j, Y" include_excerpt="true" posts_per_page="5" include_date="true" wrapper="div" order="ASC"]

Real life Fairy tale

I've been thinking about the recent royal wedding. It's almost impossible to avoid. The news is still buzzing about the dress, the service, the traditional-meets-modern theme, and of course, the biracial thing. I don't want to write about any of that. I want to write about us.We, and I mean the folks on the outside looking in, have fallen into two camps. Either we've been completely swept away with the story and its inevitably well-orchestrated conclusion or we simply can't be bothered by all the hoopla and act disdainfully or dare I say, above it.I won't say which camp I'm in, but I do write about fairy tales so draw your own conclusions. However, I understand the pull of both camps. So much ugly is happening in the world--shootings, racism, totalitarianism--that a little beauty is like a splash of cool water on a hot day, no matter how frivolous it may seem. And it is important to remember these people aren't really a part of our lives especially when more important events should remain center stage. It's hard to find a balance.But, if you're reading this you understand that life can be a slog and getting out of the muck every once in a while is good for the system (or you're reading this because you are in some way related to me and feel an obligation). We don't have to wait for large-scale spectacles to remember joy, beauty or love. That's what fairy tales do--they tell stories of the slog and how sometimes the hero is rewarded with an escape, but it's always of their own making.So, create your own real life fairy tale moments whenever your can. They can be as small as a beautiful day on a beach or as big as a royal wedding. Just grab them--or what's the slog for?!

The Return of the Feminista

After taking some time to concentrate on my book, I've decided to revive my Fairytale Feminista blog. Come back soon to read new posts and find updates about my new book, A Smuggler's Path--coming this summer!

Once Upon a Time...much later

Dear readers,I admit that my site has become part of the blogging graveyard--that nebulous place that unattended blogs inhabit until its finally shut down or--more ominous--it remains forever, like a dark stain on your mythical permanent record there to taunt you with the memory of your inaction.In my defense, I started the blog for all the wrong reasons. I knew I needed an on-line presence of some kind since I continue to avoid Twitter, Facebook, and all the other trendy social media people in my age group should embrace.This may sound like a cop-out, but my excuse is a genuine one. I have been working on my fiction writing in the interim, diligently. But I know that blogging does help exercise my writing chops. So, I reevaluated my blog and decided the subject didn't work for me anymore. I considered letting the whole enterprise go, but I hit upon a better idea. Something I know I can write about with conviction and authority, while not taking myself too seriously.If I've piqued your interest, please join me at my new site. Thanks for reading my work--each follow was a huge thrill--I hope you'll keep it up and I promise to do the same.Bye for now!

Red Civility and the Wolf of Rudeness

“I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone.” –Edmund Burke

 I’ve been thinking about Little Red Riding Hood—specifically the scene where she confronts her “grandmother” about her new look. “Oh Grandmother, what big ears you have.”“Oh Grandmother, what big eyes you have.”“But Grandmother, what large hands you have!”“Oh! But Grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!” It occurs to me that if this had been present day, Red would never have gotten that close. She would have insulted Grandmother with some quip about, “Girl, you look like death—what’s up with that?!” and dropped the basket at the door. I don’t think anyone wanted her to get eaten by a wolf, but because she did and survived, she was the better for it.This is a perfect illustration of what we’ve become. We’d rather go for the cheap laugh than really try to help someone. We think of kindness as falseness and are encouraged to, “keep it real.”Well, how’s this for real? Almost every law we’ve ever fought for and enacted has been in the furtherance of civility. Our constitution was born of a people who wanted respect and fairness. Should we be proud that we are a people who legislate thoughtfulness or sad that it needs to be written into law? Probably both, but in an age where people can anonymously churn out hate in a comment section perhaps Shakespeare is right when he writes discretion is the better part of valor.This isn’t coming out of thin air. I recently had an experience where my work had to be critiqued. I welcome the chance to hear other people’s thoughts and know it’s the only way to improve. However, one of my reviewers thought it was an appropriate venue to scrawl expletives and spew condescension in place of real criticism. I’m lucky I have a thick skin, but the sting was still there. More than anything, I was angry that the critic thought this was a good way to make a point.Fairy tales teach us that the kind and sweet suffer, but are rewarded in the end with (their version) of a happy life. I do hope that’s true.Its times like these I turn, not to fairy tales, but to philosophy. And when the subject is civility no one does it better than Edmund Burke. I leave you with this thought and hope it will help you when you encounter any incivility. 

“Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength.” –Edmund Burke

Valentine's Day Confession

As many of you know, Disney has my heart. It’s the kind of love that can withstand many missteps (like tarting up Merida for her princess unveiling, waiting way too long to give us diverse princesses, and making a meeting with the Frozen girls at Disneyworld a logistical nightmare for any parent). For quite a long time it was strictly platonic…and then came Aladdin.I was eleven when Aladdin was first released in movie theaters. Junior high was already on the horizon, and my elementary school heart was already thinking about boys in a serious way. The thing was, I wasn’t one of those girls who fantasized about getting married. My career was a more exciting prospect and freedom was my main objective. But I still obsessed about boys. Jazmine was relatable to me, she wanted more than what was expected of her—and what was expected was marriage. I can’t remember if I made all these connections as a tween, but I knew I liked her best of all. It also didn’t hurt that we had the same skin tone.Then I met him. Aladdin. Handsome and clever and completely unafraid of a strong woman. He could sing and he had a flying carpet. His best friend was a monkey and (really thrilling to eleven year old me) he never wore a shirt. Escandalo! Was he real? I fully admit to the fact that I developed a huge crush on an animated character, but looking back it wasn’t as strange as I made it sound. Aladdin is the male protagonist I always look for when I read (and write) a book. We take it for granted in an age where women and minorities wish to be heard and want to be represented in every conceivable way. But finding that elusive unicorn—the well-rounded male—is almost impossible. A man who is strong yet sensitive enough to realized when we don’t need (or want) to be rescued. A male character who shows vulnerability and courage. It was exciting then and refreshing now.These men exist in nature. I’ve met them and I married one, but why are they rare in stories? We’ve replaced the two-dimensional female archetype from fairy tales and replaced her with an equally underdeveloped male archetype.Yes, I know this movie sets a lot of people's teeth on edge with its stereotypes and insensitive song lyrics (which Disney recently changed in the song, Arabian Nights) and I freely admit that my analytical side gnashes right along with them. But this isn't that kind of post.I know that by the end of the movie, Jazmine wanted nothing more than to marry Aladdin. The feminist in me wants to rail against that, but honestly I don’t. Once you’ve found the one who lets you be you, it’s reason enough to want to spend the rest of your life with them. So, I don’t begrudge her suddenly going gaga over him. If I ever met Aladdin, my well-rounded husband would have some real competition.

Ending the year going Into the Woods

I’ve never been one for the obvious. If it’s too easy, it’s boring. If everyone is doing it, something must be wrong. So there’s no reason I should like Into the Woods. It’s so blatantly a metaphor for a life lesson. You go through the woods naïve and afraid of the unknown only to emerge smarter and warier of the road ahead. Red Riding Hood learns about the dangers of straying from the path. Cinderella finds her voice. The baker realizes he’s not alone. Jack loses a friend but gains independence. Even writing these lines I want to yell “DUH” at the screen.But I love it. I love the music. I adore the Witch. The message is clever even while being obvious. When I saw the production as a kid I thought it was so cool that someone decided to mash all these fairy tales together. Now as an adult I’ve gained new insight into the lyrics. It’s an honest to goodness family movie mostly because you can watch it all your life and get something new each time. This time I learned about reluctance.We’re days away from the New Year and that means the dreaded list of resolutions. Last year I did away with the entire idea of it with the notion that making a list is just a way to make me feel bad by April (or March) because I’ve lost interest in them. My resolutions are usually related to moving more and exercise. Despite my best efforts, I am generally a sedentary creature preferring to read and write more than move and sweat.I searched fairy tales for a good story on reluctance, but I have yet to find one. Reluctant heroes are not a problem in fairy tales. Princes chase down maidens who gratefully accept the assistance. Tailors seek adventures on the basis of having downed seven flies with one hit. Little girls with bold outerwear head to Grandma’s without a thought for the hungry wolf that lies in wait. Reluctance is not something fairy tale characters are acquainted with.Except in Into the Woods. Only kids have no fear of the woods. Adults are very aware that the unknown could hold danger or at least disappointment. They’re all reluctant to enter, but they go because it’s the only way to get what they want. Hemming and hawing are allowed, but the woods are still waiting. Just like the New Year and my resolutions. So, I’ll make my resolutions yet again and work to get past May with them (at least).No more hemming and hawing…the woods await.

Happy 2015!

Gardening Tips from Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

Mary Mary quite contraryHow does your garden grow?With silver bells and cockle shellsAnd pretty maids all in a row I am a terrible gardener. More to the point, I’m a reluctant one. I find people and animals more rewarding than plants, so it’s hard to make myself pay the attention necessary to keep them alive. My mother is always trying to encourage me to plant things, but I always say the same thing,“It doesn’t work.”But she buys me plants which I promptly kill. I like gardens, but they're for other people. I imagine those people are also great at craft projects and make their own sausage. I picked my creative outlets, so I had to think of this from another angle. I like practicality, so I decided to try practical gardening.So I tried this year to keep a small herb garden. I cook a lot and I was tired of throwing out unused fresh herbs. At first it worked rather well. I cheated and bought one of those already started herb gardens which all sit in the same pot from the farmer’s market. After watering them for a few days I caught the planting bug and bought a few more. Then a vacation dawned and I actually worried about their well-being without me there to care for them. I bought those water globes, but there weren’t enough at the store for all my plants. So, I consigned the un-globed to Mother Nature and hoped for the best.I returned to a still thriving garden. I was surprised and even more surprising was how much I cared. So I kept watering and tending. I even started snipping some for dishes that needed fresh herbs. I felt smug—the way you do when you buy all organic and free trade—and planned for more plants.Then the inevitable happened. My cutting had damaged them. It kept raining, so I reasoned I didn’t have to water them as much. The purple basil lost its purple. My tarragon wasn’t growing any leaves. I started to lose interest. And then two incredible things happened. First, the sunflower seeds I leave out for the birds and squirrels had been planted and I had a surprise sunflower blooming in my garden. Then a blub I had thrown in an old garbage can because it had died began to grow. It made me think of the nursery rhyme, Mary, Mary Quite Contrary because if you looked in my old garbage pail you’d find a light bulb, shriveled tulip bulbs, and kitty litter left by the previous owners to keep the pail from tipping in the wind.My planned garden was dying, but a new magical one was flourishing. The sunflower already had its “day in the sun” and now the garbage plant is flowering. Hubby wants to kill it because it brushes against the car when we leave the garage, but I refuse. It’s become my affirmation. All summer I felt guilty because I wasn’t able to get my writing done. But now I know it was lying dormant, just waiting for the right time to flourish. 

Transformations with The Little Mermaid

 Having a blog has taught me some interesting things about myself. Some things I already knew and the blog just solidified the fact (i.e. I thrive on deadlines because without them my default is lazy). Some were funny (like how ridiculously happy it makes me when someone leaves a comment). How guarded I am was a big surprise.I like meeting people in person. I strike up random conversations on mass transit, waiting for my daughter to be dismissed from school, in elevators, etc. I’ll answer questions, give advice and even share my phone number if I think we’re going to be friends (I know this is totally against what Winnie the Pooh taught me when he sang “Be too smart for strangers.”). I really like to share because invariably it leads to others sharing with you. I’m not a blabbermouth, but I’m rather open.Not so with the internet. It took me two years to put my real name on the blog. I still don’t have a Facebook account because I’m uncomfortable having people randomly find me (I know what you’re thinking—but you have a blog!) and I do as much as I can to avoid signing up for anything that requires personal information. It’s something I continually struggle with—transformation is tricky. It’s like my relationship with the Little Mermaid.I have a real problem with The Little Mermaid. The Disney version tells the story of a 16 year old who falls in love with a man she’s only seen once and proceeds to defy her father, give up her legs and voice to a sea witch, and then find a way to make the prince fall in love with her. Being Disney, she is able to persevere and win his love after which her father gives her legs and she and Prince Eric sail off into the sunset happy and married. Her age is my biggest qualm because as the mother of a headstrong daughter I shudder at how easily King Triton gave into Ariel’s hissy-fit. It’s the same reason I really dislike Romeo and Juliet (two teens throwing the ultimate hissy and make good on the threat “If I don’t get my way, I’ll just die!”). Despite writing YA I’m against hyperbole.But the original story has her trading her tail for legs, which makes her the most graceful person on land but she must experience the pain of walking on dozens of knife points with every step. What did I learn? Real transformation is painful—a constant battle. Even after all that pain the tragic Little Mermaid opted to let her true love be happy with another instead of taking his life to regain her tail. I’ve never been a fan of martyrdom, but it makes a point.Now, I’m almost ashamed to say, I finally read the original work by Hans Christian Andersen. (Imagine someone with a blog about fairy tales not having read a fairy tale!) In the real story she does lose the prince (and a chance at an immortal soul), but because of her selfless act she’s asked to join the “daughters of the air” who after three hundred years of good service earn an immortal soul. Being air she can bring breezes and “carry the scent of flowers through the air, bringing freshness and healing balm wherever we go.”What all versions have in common is sacrifice. To get what you want, you may have to give something up. For me it’s anonymity. That’s probably why I started this blog by rewriting fairy tales…it gave me a place to hide.After two years of blogging, I think I’m finally ready for my land legs even with the risk of stabbing knives (Does that count as hyperbole?). I still have issues with The Little Mermaid, but I understand what it’s like to know where you want to be and pursuing it.Welcome to the new Fairytale Feminista blog, answering life’s questions one fairy tale at a time. See my new About Me page!

Losing it

I’ve been thinking about loss and fairy tales lately. It’s the prologue to most stories, shaping the hero’s or heroine’s current misfortune. Be they motherless, fatherless, or orphans loss is the beginning of a story in fairy tales. Disney has made this fact into a cliché. It’s been joked that Frozen didn’t become a true Disney movie until (spoiler alert) the parents are lost at sea. I almost think it’s pointless to warn you of the spoiler because as I mentioned before, it’s Disney’s hallmark.So what can fairy tales tell us about loss? Is it the impetus that makes ordinary people into heroes? Do princesses (or would be princesses) jump at the chance to marry royal strangers because of “daddy issues”? Are feelings of abandonment just the push a boy needs to take on giants and consider thievery as a way of life? Maybe yes, but maybe nothing so blatant.As a historian, I’m aware that these stories were written in a time when disease, war or poverty would likely tear apart families. But fairy tales don’t care about the mundane. They focus on the fantastical, spinning tales that take us out of the everyday. Wouldn’t you want to escape a reality in which becoming orphaned probably only meant a life of impoverishment and servitude? In the real world, Cinderella would have grown old and haggard at the beck and call of those three spiteful cats. Or she would have run away to the city and been forced into prostitution to survive.But I’m not just a historian. I’m a person with whimsy who sees imprisoned souls in strangely shaped trees. All it takes is a too bright moon and I immediately start to spin a tale about a community of nightwalkers affected by its phases, collecting magical Moonshine. Not all the ideas become a full-fledged story, but more than a fair share get filed in my ideas folder. And one of the most basic things everyone wonders about is death and loss, so why isn’t it a prominent feature in fairy tales? Sleeping Beauty side-steps it with a sleeping spell meant to keep her in suspended animation for a century waiting for her “true love.” Snow White is barely cold in her glass coffin before Prince Charming comes along and dislodges the chunk of apple the dwarves were clearly too short to Heimlich. Red Riding Hood and her grandmother are swallowed whole by the Wolf only to be cut out of his belly by the Woodsman. Even the newest old story, Frozen, gives us a heroine who sacrifices her life and is rewarded by it being returned to her.In my search for loss in fairy tales, I came across a story from my childhood. It falls under folklore and legend more than fairy tale, and is a popular story in Puerto Rico. It’s called La Leyenda de la Piedra del Perro, or The Legend of Dog Rock. Not far from El Morro in Old San Juan there’s a small beach with a long natural rock wall. At its tip is a rock formation that when looked at from the right angle resembles a sitting dog.The story goes that a soldier, Enrique, from back when Puerto Rico was part of Spain, was stationed there, far from home and lonely for companionship. One day he finds an injured and emaciated puppy whom he nurses back to health with food and love. In return the dog never leaves his side and becomes his best friend. As is inevitable with all soldiers, Enrique is called to a battle which requires him to leave the dog behind. They part tearfully and as the boat carrying his human companion sails away, the dog (called Amigo) swims to the rock wall and sits there from sun up to sundown awaiting his return. There’s a brutal battle in which all hands, including Enrique, are lost. The dog overhears the news and rushes out to the wall waiting without respite. He stays so long and so still he turns to stone and remains there to this day.I’m not sure what that story teaches us. On the one hand loss is something that can’t be gotten over and you can remain stuck in a moment of despair without moving on. Or it could mean that loss forces out the very nature of a being. For the dog, it was loyalty. It could be said that for the characters of popular fairy tales, it was a desire to be more or escape their current situation. In both cases, it led to profound change. Fairy tales teach us that no matter how mundane today might seem and yesterday was, tomorrow could be extraordinary--either good or ill. They teach us that loss is not the end of the story.

Waiting as taught by Thumbelina

I hate waiting.I rank it up there with pulling teeth and stupid people. It's not that I can't deal with having a tooth pulled or muddle through interactions with the intentionally daft, but I'd rather not--thank you very much!But writing has taught me about waiting because books don't spring forth perfect and complete when you snap your fingers. I've tried and barring the sudden arrival of Samantha or Tabitha, it won't happen. (I would have used a more contemporary reference like Charmed, but they were always so worried about that personal gain thing).Currently I'm in the longest waiting period, the time before school begins and my days become mine again. I now understand all those Staples commercials where parents push carts beatifically buying school supplies for disgruntled children--it is the most wonderful time of the year! As I've seen time and again, mothers (and fathers) who are also writers have had to reconcile their lack of productivity while their kids are home. We talk about it, write about it, commiserate and tell each other it's okay. Use the time for other things, like reading or in my case note taking for book 4.But all the sympathetic noises in the world can't silence that small voice in your head saying you had a deadline, which has come and gone. That got me to thinking about Thumbelina.You remember the story? Woman can't have children (I think because she's alone and sperm banks weren't exactly the rage in Early Modern Europe), so the village witch gives her a seed to plant from which a girl "no bigger than my thumb" is born. Good thing is wasn't me--I've killed cacti.Anyway, after the idyllic stage, Thumbelina is kidnapped, lost, stolen, and myriad other things which take her from her mother. And just like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, she wants to go home. At some point, winter comes (just as it always does--thank you GoT) and she knows she can't make the trek in that kind of weather. She hibernates with a field mouse and an injured bird until the spring thaw. And then she is reunited with her mother. But during this time away she made friends, met other people her own size, and even fell in love with a fairy prince (I object to that part, but it rounds out the story).Now I can't claim that I've gone on life-changing adventures, but I've spent time with my family, written notes and learned new things about my story I wouldn't have noticed if I was furiously writing. The same thing happened when I was looking for work. While I was keeping my head in interviews, resumes, and searches, I didn't stop to ask why I was doing it. When I finally took a breath, I realized I was happiest writing. I don't know if I would have made that leap if I were still keeping my head down.So, the next time I start to get down on myself for not finishing book 4 by the end of summer I'll think of Thumbelina. The journey is worth just as much as the destination...but I still hate waiting.

The Valiant Little Tailor and Other Brave Declarations

If ever there was a fairy tale character to look up to, I think Grimm’s The Valiant Little Tailor should be at the top of the list. Here was a man who had no problems telling the world about his amazing deed, even though the “seven in one stroke” he killed were only flies who wanted his jam. It led to other great deeds with giants, unicorns and even marrying a princess.The reason I admire the Valiant Little Tailor (or VLT for short) is his ability to declare his accomplishments to anyone and everyone he meets. I think we all have parts of ourselves of which we’re proud, but don’t date tell anyone. Mine is easy—I’m a writer.I know that sounds like a statement from Captain Obvious, but I find it challenging to tell people I’m a writer. I have this recurring fantasy where I finally tell everyone while simultaneously passing around copies of my newly published book. In a sense, I’m a closeted writer and I only tell people I trust to keep it quiet.But why? As I continue to navigate the publishing world, words like platform and following keep popping up. I know my silence will only hurt my chances of generating buzz and keeps me from things like Facebook and Twitter. Even this blog has the name FairytaleFeminista, but I’ve never listed my name. It’s hard to put yourself out there, but people who want to make their living in creative fields have to do it constantly.Writing becomes so personal because it’s mostly you and your words inhabiting a cozy universe of your making. In this world you can delete the unpleasant bits, reword the awkward phrases, and configure personalities that fit into your creation. When your writing becomes public, you can’t erase what other people think, do, or write about your work. And honestly, who’s a bigger control freak than a person invents people and decides their fates based on the needs of a plot. Doctors have nothing on writers when it comes to a God complex!Was VLT on to something? Should we just emblazon our truth on a sash and wear it out in the world? When is the right time to “come out” to friends and family about your literary aspirations? Will it be more like a debutant announcing herself at a cotillion or am I declaring my alternative lifestyle, horrifying the practical 9 to 5ers in my life? Well, I’ve taken a few positive steps in that regard and introduced myself as a writer to a stranger. That was easy. Let’s try some more.Hello, my name is Ivia Cruz and I’m a writer. I’ve written three novels and I’m working on a fourth.That felt good.Now what should I do about that LinkedIn page?How about you? What’s your VLT story?

Community in the Wilderness: Searching for a Writer’s Group in the Wilds of the Web

“Why did you start a blog?”It’s a question I get asked periodically by people who don’t write blogs. The honest answer is “platform”. It’s one of those buzzwords you can’t escape if you go to conferences, subscribe to newsletters, and generally stay abreast of the latest in writing and publishing. You hear it often enough that you begin to feel inadequate or inauthentic as a writer if you don’t have one. So, kicking and screaming I began a blog that focuses on fairy tales. It made the best sense because the YA series I’m working on is based on nursery rhymes and fairy tales.At first, it was a chore. I agonized over the About Me section, trying to sounds both informative and pithy enough that other people would want to read it. I tried to look at it as my “trial by fire” because whatever I wrote would immediately be critiqued. At least that’s what I thought until I realized how hard it is to make your lone voice heard in the cacophony that is the blogosphere. But even when I wasn’t read, I felt as though each posting was a courageous effort to put myself out there--proof I was a writer each time I clicked Publish.My best day was when, out of nowhere, a random person started following by blog. My initial reaction was, “Why are you following me?” But soon that gave way to real happiness and a renewed optimism in this process. Maybe blogging could be rewarding. Maybe I could grow to love it. Well, I was happy that I could at least find times to like it.I kept writing. I also kept blogging and reveled in every new follower. I would post and click (too often) on the Stats page to see if my post was being viewed. Often I would be disappointed by the turnout. Sometimes I was surprised by what really got people’s attention. Nevertheless, I continued hoping to find the magic recipe of topic and writing that would make readers want another helping. Then I fell into what all bloggers can attest to.Call it Blogger’s Blahs or Poster’s Paralysis, but I felt discouraged by the lack of interest and my lack of ideas. It came in waves, and then the Blahs ebbed because a new reader joined or a new comment would buoy me. The realization was almost anti-climactic. What I really wanted was not readership, I wanted community.Blogs about how to find a writer’s group or a critique circle are endless. They have stories of writer’s being bestowed with the friendship of like-minded writers like the Commandments. It all sounds so warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the solitary clicking of cold computer keys. You’re encouraged to branch out, make connections, join clubs and all will fall into place. Well, after a few hits and misses and, just like the querying process, you’ll find the perfect match for you. It’s like blind group dating or “Naked and Afraid” writer’s edition.My attempts to find my tribe have been mixed. I have one writer friend who is very dedicated to helping me with my writing and we’ve forged a friendship of respect and reciprocity that makes me believe in serendipity. But you learn early on that you need lots of eyes on your work.The rest of my circle (non-writers all) have fallen away, unable to keep up with the back and forth of rewrites. For once I could say without fear of sounding clichéd—It’s a writer thing, you wouldn’t understand. So, my search continues. Blogs exist to create a virtual community, but eventually virtual isn’t enough.Why did I start a blog? The short answer is to find more readers, but now I know it’s really to find more writers.Why did you start a blog? Is it the same reason you keep blogging?

The Hidden Minority Part II

I've been looking for a topic for some time now. After spending a week at Disney World, something occurred to me. Something I haven't shared with you.I have a confession to make.Like Frieda from Peanuts I have naturally curly hair. We even have the same "birthday" although mine is many years removed. According to my internet research (and we all know how reliable that is!) she made her debut on March 6th, 1961. Twenty years later, this curly girl blogger was born. I always liked Frieda because she, unlike me, was proud of her naturally curly hair and mentioned it at every opportunity. I, on the other had, tend to do everything in my power to make my hair straight, or at least no more than wavy. I know I'm not alone, but this year I decided to take a bold step. I've gone curly.To you straight-haired girls, this is hardly worth mentioning, but to those in the know it's a revelation. But the revelation also comes with a catch. No curly-haired role models, or very few on hand. The field gets even thinner when you look at the representations of classic fairy tale characters. Our only lighthouse in the sea of hair is Merida from Disney Pixar's Brave, whose hair was quickly smoothed out when she made her debut as a Disney princess. Even proud Frieda, with her bouncy locks, began to fade into obscurity in favor of helmet-haired Lucy and lanky-haired Marcie and Peppermint Patty.When did we decided that our fairy-tale heroes and heroines couldn't have naturally curly hair? After Snow White, it was quite a while before Disney even had a non-blonde princess, let alone a curly one. I watched the parades, princess meet & greets, and noticed a distinct lack of curls. Is it a silly thing to ask for corkscrews and fractals with a penchant for absorbing ambient moisture? I am officially adding curly girls to my hidden minority.I suppose there are more important issues to soapbox about like honest equality, world peace, an myriad other pressing concerns.I want world peace, and I think a great way to start is for me to make peace with my hair.

Music For Writers

 In the course of my life I’ve had many music teachers for piano, voice, music theory, and music history. I’ve taken classes in movement and drama, but I always knew that I would never be a professional musician. For me, music was another language in which to communicate. And even though I never had any problems with performance, I felt the conversation was between me and the music. It was almost religious. But let me not get too grandiose because my three B’s are Bach, Biggy and Fall Out Boy. What I really want to explain is what music has done for my writing.When an idea first hits me, it’s usually a concept.Setting: a beach with green sand and a solitary palm tree and three coconuts are left.  Then I think about what that could mean to the people on this random green beach.Problem: 4 friends and only three coconuts and they’re lost.After that it’s a game of which sounds more like a story you want to tell a friend over drinks.Solution 1: One friend shares the coconut.Solution 2: Two friends fight until one is left standing and gets the coconut.Solution 3: They play Rochambeau to figure out who should get the coconuts.Solution 4: They crack them all open and put them in a vessel so they can all share.Solution 5: They discover that the green sand is really enchanted and can add it to sea water for desalination saving the coconuts for cups and the coconut water for added flavor.I don’t get around to figuring out what the characters are like until I know all of that first. Sort of like learning a piece of music.I find a piece I want to play or sing, but it’s only a concept—notes on a page that sound one way in my head, but may change when really examined. I try to understand what the piece is trying to convey to others. Then I play with the different ways to express that idea. It all sounds very technical until you get to my favorite part—the characters.Characters are the best part of writing a story and the way I make the story real. What kind of people would make any of those solutions worth retelling? I need a martyr for solution one. Solution two needs aggressors. The last three needs clever, outside-of-the-box thinkers and a leader to orchestrate it. But I still need to know about what makes them tick. That’s where music really comes in. My secret, which really isn’t a secret but more of my trick, is to find a song for each of my characters.Since I love all kinds of music (even crappy pop music that is specifically for booty shaking) I have quite a wide selection. I also use songs for interactions between characters and situations in which characters find themselves. For example, one of my character’s from a novel I wrote is very independent and generally shuns help, but at a certain point she needs to ask for help from the last person she thought she would. While I was writing the scene I could hear Jill Scott’s I Need You playing in the background. Another secondary character had a lot of backstory I needed to keep in mind about why her life turned out as it did and I listened to Cath by Death Cab for Cutie.I’ve used Broadway show tunes, Hip Hop, classical, Dixieland jazz, opera and anything else that will make me better understand this person I’m trying to invent, but probably already exists in the strains of a melody.Now I keep in mind all the things my music teachers have told me in the past that can help me finish it.

1. Always keep your nails trimmed
2. Practice everyday
3. Rotational neglect (when you obsessively focus on one thing and then leave it alone for a new obsession that requires your attention)
4. Remember when it’s hard why you love it anyway

I may have learned to write through years of schooling, but music is what helped me become a writer. And prepare for the appalling lack of income! ;)