Pulling a Prince out of a Bear

As a reader, I love a good and well-considered plot twist. Depending on who you ask there are only six, seven, or thirty-six stories in the world. With that in mind, the only way to very them is with a good twist. Mind you I said a good twist. Too often I’ve been on the receiving end of a story that bends over backward to make a plot work with a twist so implausible it ruins it. There is such a thing as too twisty a plot and I say this as a person who reads fantasy and fairy tales. Even they get it wrong sometimes.

Recently I read the story of Snow-White and Rose-Red, a story I always think I’ve read because of the Snow White angle. Now I realize why the latter was made into a movie and endlessly used for re-tellings and the former left to languish. In case you haven’t read it either:

Two sisters—Snow-White, the shy bookish one and Rose-Red, the lively, outspoken one—love one another and their mother. One winter day, a bear comes to the door and asks to warm himself by the fire. He and the girls become friends as he visits every day that winter. In the spring, he says he must go and protect his treasure from a bad dwarf. The girls encounter the dwarf many times over the spring and save him from small perils, but he’s never grateful for the help. The last time they meet with the dwarf and the bear, the dwarf begs for his life because the bear has threatened him. The dwarf tells the bear to eat the girls instead, but the bear kills him instead. Suddenly, the bear becomes a prince, explaining that the dwarf had cursed him. The prince marries Snow-White and Rose-Red marries his brother.

By Alexander Zick - Märchen, Grot'scher Verlag, Berlin 1975, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6330166

Leaving aside the fact that two sisters actually get along in a fairy tale (a twist worthy of the genre), there are so many elements that come out of nowhere that it’s hard to figure out what the point of the story is—be kind to strangers, even bears, that come to the door; always lend a hand even if the recipient is less than deserving; or is it the happily ever after with a prince. That last one works out well for Snow-White, but Rose-Red ends up married to the prince’s unknown brother. Why wasn’t he searching for ways to break his elder brother’s curse? Did he hire the dwarf? I think that’s the real story! I’ll likely have to write it myself.

Have you been blindsided by a plot twist?

Fairytale Retellings 2022

Before you ask, no that is not a typo and yes I am aware we are now in 2023. But the turning of the year was bumpy complete with an injury and a rather bad cold. Because of it, I got a slow start to all my work. But I’ll take a note from all the fairy tales I’ve read and know that how you start isn’t necessarily how you finish. In that spirit, I’m starting the year with a list, my list of fairytale-based reading from 2022

At the beginning of the year I read Shanna Swendson’s Fairy Tale trilogy. It’s a classic story in a modern setting about a woman who learns she and her sister are of the Fey and how that changes their lives. I don’t believe in spoilers, but I will say that although I loved this trilogy I know it was supposed to be longer. Some of the story for both sisters were left unresolved, which left me frustrated. As a writer I understand that life can get in the way when you have to finish a series, but as a reader my trust in a writer is broken when a story’s resolution isn’t addressed in a timely manner. And yet, I recommend all of them.

Toward the middle of the year I needed something lighter. I also have a tendency to read at least one Jane Austen retelling a year because I think of her novels as long form fairy tales. Somehow Maria Grace knew what I was looking for and as a bonus threw in dragons, my favorite cryptid. I made my way through the first three books of the Jane Austen’s Dragons series, but there are 11 so far. I intend to read each of them when I need a respite from my usual weightier reading. I think it’s important to have reading breaks while still finding a way to read and this fit the bill. And a special mention for the covers, which I loved!

My final reading was a continuation of a series I started the previous year. A Crown of Wishes was one of those books that I love and hate. I love them so much that I read them from cover to cover in an obscenely short amount of time, which I hate because the next book I read can’t possibly measure up. It’s based on Hindu mythology and is the second book in the world Roshani Chokshi created within that framework. It had everything I love in a book—mythology, a warrior woman protagonist, slow-burn romance, lots of magic and excellent writing.

I hope to have a list like this every year. Do you have any suggestions for this year? Do you have any go-to kinds of books? Happy 2023!

Mechanical Creativity II

The holidays are feast or famine time for my writing. I either have tons to write or I am stuck with nothing to write. This year is a little different because I recently published my latest book, so I've given myself a pass until the new year on getting any real writing done on the last book in the series. But I still get the itch...that feeling of restless need to make SOMETHING and work. It's the same feeling I got around the beginning of August when I was waiting for school to start up again (yes, an admittedly nerdy admission but I'm owning it!).

Back during the dark days of the quarantine I wrote about what I do when I get that itch, but haven't thought of anything to write. I called it mechanical creativity and this year I decided to make it work for me. I indulged my hobby of lettering and combined it with the normally tedious chore of sending holiday cards. The results were mixed, but it still scratches that particular itch. These are some of the results:

Although the results are rough, it doesn't really matter. The point is to do creative things while waiting for my specific creative ability to return.

Have you found your mechanical creativity endeavor? Feel free to share. In the meantime,

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

Advent Train Stories: The Words

Welcome to the Advent Calendar Story Train, where you can read through 24 stories under the theme The Gift. Thank you for reading today's story. The next one will be available to read on December 7th, titled "The Gift".  The link will be active tomorrow when the post goes live.

If you missed yesterday's you can go and read it here.

This year I am excited to participate in a fun group activity for the holidays--a flash fiction advent train! I hope you'll check out all the submissions and will join me in looking forward to "opening" one story each day. Here is my story:

The Words

Pilar walked the aisles of the ancient library. Her footsteps echoed in the empty chamber as she ran her fingers over the shelves where once stood countless tomes and scrolls. Everywhere she looked was dull and gray, just as it was outside. She was told that in the before times there were periods of light and dark with subtle changes in between the two as the day wore on. Those who were observant could tell the time by the gradations. Now all was flat, and people wandered in a careless stupor stopping to rest when their bodies tired and waking when they grew weary of the inertia.

          But Pilar also knew there was a way to bring the color back—to wake them all from the miasma—and it was in this building.

          “May I help you?” a voice, cracked and rough from disuse startled Pilar out of her thoughts. She spun around quickly and saw a small gray-haired woman bent double with a plain walking stick in her right hand. The woman smiled with a toothless grin, but her eyes looked past Pilar, sightless.

          “I don’t know,” began Pilar. “I’m looking for …” her voice trailed off. Pilar wasn’t sure if she couldn’t finish the sentence because it felt insensitive to ask a blind old woman to help her look for anything or if voicing the idea that she alone knew how to fix what had damaged their land sounded foolish. The woman’s smile deepened.

          “You seek the secret?” You’re not the first,” she said and turned away. She beckoned Pilar with her cane and walked with purpose to a small table with a chair on either side. On the table was a notebook and a pen. The woman sat down, but before Pilar could do likewise the woman said, “Stand in the middle of the room and close your eyes.”

          Pilar would have objected, but instead did as she was told.

          “In order to know the secret, you must know what we were before the words left us,” said the woman. “Once, this building, with its vaulted ceilings and rows of aisles contained the vast knowledge of the ages. Books handed down from the centuries of experience and imagination. The paper came from plants and animals from land and sea. The ink was derived from hundreds of sources in a multitude of colors. And the covers touched so many hands they came to contain the full sweep of humanity.”

          As the woman spun her tale, Pilar saw the library as it was, felt the weight of its knowledge, smelled the books, scrolls, and life that had inhabited it. Centuries passed like moments and all of it was in vivid color. Pilar’s eyes filled with tears at the images that flitted behind her closed lids.

          “Then little by little, people stopped coming. Knowledge was abandoned and slowly, the words left us.” The images behind Pilar’s eyes changed and became the world she knew now—colorless—and she cried anew.

          “Open your eyes,” said the woman and she gestured Pilar closer. “The secret is this pen and this notebook.”

          “What? How?” Pilar asked, incredulously. She’d been expecting a champion or a magic spell, something more than pen and paper. She was glad the woman couldn’t see because she knew her face would give away her doubts.

          “I know what you’re thinking. You think it’s not enough and I’m just a foolish old woman. But you’d be surprised. Words are a gift that give color to the world. Write down what you’ve seen today and everyday then put it on a shelf. It’ll save us,” said the old woman, smiling. She picked up the pen and notebook and held them out to Pilar, who took them as a reflex. She’d known this quest had been a long shot, but she couldn’t help the crush of disappointment that surged through her. She wanted to leave as quickly as possible, and she did so without another word.

          It was with a heavy heart that Pilar crossed the threshold back into the outside world. She didn’t know why she still clutched the pen and notebook so tightly, but also couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. What had she expected? A miracle, she supposed. She walked down the marble steps as an older man was walking up. In his hand was a pen and a notebook, well-worn and straining with pages. After a moment’s hesitation, she followed him, at a distance.

The man entered the library and greeted the old woman as a friend would before handing her his notebook. From behind one of the aisles, Pilar watched as she pointedly walked back and forth between many aisles and then finally stopped in front of one that looked like all the others to Pilar. The old woman bent over with assistance from her cane and the man and placed the notebook on the shelf. In a matter of moments tendrils of color flowed out of the book. The muted colors of the library became sharper, brighter and Pilar couldn’t help but gasp at the change.

Unerringly, the old woman trained her sights on Pilar and smiled.

“Now you know, so don’t waste time,” she implored.

***

Years later when Pilar returned with her own notebook brimming with thoughts and ideas, she remembered what the guardian of the ancient library told her.

“Words are a gift that give color to the world.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A Rebel's Path - Release Day!

The day has arrived! My new book, A Rebel’s Path, the third in my Enchanted Path series was released today. And for the next two weeks the digital copies of both A Smuggler’s Path and A Noble’s Path are half off!

An unruly mage from the past has returned to test the limits of Inez’s magic and terrorize Canto…

Magic has become a liability for mage-in-training Inez Garza. Now that she’s accepted Zavier’s proposal of marriage, the scrutiny she once avoided as a smuggler has become nearly unavoidable as his future queen. Any missteps with her magic risks exposing her at the highest levels of Canto and especially to her intended, who still doesn’t know she harbors inherent magic.

Control over her Powers is essential, and her only hope is accepting help from one tutor who doubts her abilities, another who covets them and her mother, who doesn’t trust either of the two.

Differences will have to be set aside when it appears a figure from the past only whispered about in stories returns and threatens all of Canto with his dark magic.

Challenging a seasoned magic-wielder with her erratic Powers is just the kind of thing that could attract royal attention, or get Inez killed. She will have to uncover closely held secrets and take help from unlikely quarters in order to keep everyone safe. But even magic has its limits…

…when you walk a rebel’s path.

Here are some early reviews:

"An enthralling quest tale with a valiant and enchanting protagonist." –Kirkus Review

"A fast-moving plot and a cast of nebulous characters who exist in the grey space between good and evil make for a thought-provoking read that hums with tension… Cruz has crafted something that truly stands out within the genre." –Self-Publishing Review

Like all indie authors, I hope you read my books and post good reviews! To learn more about my other books visit www.booksbyilcruz.com

Fairy Word of Mouth

Remember the brave little tailor? He kills seven flies with one blow and sews a belt proclaiming his achievement to anyone who read it. It led to people somehow assuming he meant giants and not flies. Or how about the woman in Rumpelstiltskin whose father bragged about her spinning straw into gold while drinking in a tavern and somehow word got back to the king? Talk about amazing marketing.

With my new book coming out I have what I assume is a common writer fantasy. It goes something like this: the book is released and because it is just so undeniably good everyone reads it (and of course loves it) without having to create marketing campaigns or materials.

Maybe fairy tales have it right. There are days I consider just wearing a belt that says “four-times published author” or “excellently reviewed novelist” with a QR code for people who want to know more. Or times I wish I had some sort of herald that would go about telling people about my work. I know it’s a dream, but it’s one I indulge in when another publishing date rolls around. Like now.

I’m less than a week away from A Rebel’s Path being available everywhere, the third in my Enchanted Path series and I am predictably behind with my marketing. And my postings. And yet, I have to remind myself I’ve accomplished something not many people do, and I’ve done it four times. In the meantime, here's hoping the grapevine does its job.

My Weird Obsession

Back when I hosted a monthly Meet An Indie Author Monday (MAIAM, I love a good palindrome), the first interview I posted was my own. And this was one of the questions:

Writers keep their eyes open for inspiration, which makes us notice a lot more than most. What random piece of everyday beauty do you love?

My answer was, in retrospect, was very subdued because I wanted to keep my responses short and pithy.

Doors. Doors have become so humdrum, so when I walk by a really gorgeous door I can't help but stop. An interesting handle, nice ironwork, a good heavy doorknocker. Sometimes I take a picture.

In truth, I LOVE doors—interesting doors, old doors, oddly-shaped doors, and doors that open with skeleton keys. I recently went on vacation to Switzerland and Bern is a door-lovers paradise!

As someone who writes about fairy tales, I think I’m in search of the door that will take me to another realm even knowing that fairies aren’t exactly known for their hospitality. There’s an allure to a door, a mystique. At least while it stays closed. It’s the embodiment of possibilities.

What mundane thing do you imbue with magical possibilities?

Relaunch and Pre-launch

Starting over is hard, but sometimes restarting is even more of a challenge. Last year I was supposed to publish the third book in my Enchanted Path series. I ‘d already written a draft and worked on the rewrites all quarantine long. Sad to say it read like quarantine—long, unpredictable and uncomfortable. I had to start, not again, but over, as though I’d never done any rewrites. My editor was really patient and helped immensely and I finally finished my book, A Rebel’s Path.

At the same time, I began to feel dissatisfied with my writer website, Books by I.L. Cruz. I think while other people were obsessively cleaning or completing long overdue home repairs, I wanted to revamp my site. I was humble enough to realize I didn’t have the ability (or patience) to tackle it myself and I hired an amazing web designer. She did a wonderful job and I’m excited by the new format.

So, without further ado I can share my new book site and the announcement of my new book’s release date—October 3^rd, 2022. I hope you all take a look. As an added bonus, anyone who leaves a comment will be automatically included in a random draw to get a free signed copy of my new book!

The third installment in my Enchanted Path series!

Happy Blogoversary

A blogger I follow once wrote about the importance of celebrating writing milestones and I have a big one today. My blog!

There are days when I wonder why I latched on to fairy tales as my theme for a blog. I knew I didn’t want to add another how-to write blog to the world, mostly because I didn’t feel qualified to add my two cents. In truth I still don’t, but for different reasons—namely my way of writing works for me, but not necessarily anyone else.

I revisited my first post, Welcome to My Corner, and it brought back a lot of memories. I had finished my first book (or so I thought it was finished, but it was really just the start of my journey into editing—a story for another time) and had been told I needed to have an online presence if I was serious about becoming a published author. My daughter was still young enough to be read to and I was reading her classic fairy tales, which I found intriguing and disturbing.

It's been ten years since I started this blog and I’m still writing about fairy tales. I’m just shy of 250 followers, which I know doesn’t sound like a lot, but to me is amazing. I’ve written four books and published three (more details on book four soon). These numbers all seem small at a time when only people who have hundreds of thousands of followers and churn out books every six months, but I’m really proud of my accomplishments.

So, readers, Happy Blogoversary! Thanks for reading and keeping up with my corner of the world.

Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay

Do you have any writing anniversaries you’re celebrating?

Finding A Name

One of my favorite fairy tales is Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and its subsequent Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There. When I was a girl, I read the book and watched almost every version on TV and in the movies. I didn’t realize it then, but Alice’s escapades began my own quest to find stories of female adventure. Considering they were written in 1865 and 1871, respectively, I’d consider them some of the earliest forms of feminist fairy tales.

I would definitely walk through a tiny door behind a curtain

Then again, there is her red-caped sister in adventuring, Red Riding Hood. My feelings about Red have run the gamut. Sometimes I think of her as a neglected child—who sends their little girl into a wolf-infested forest to bring food to an elderly woman? Maybe it’s the Latina in me, but shouldn’t Abuela have moved in with the family already? Other times I think of Red as a hapless girl talking to strangers and too ignorant to recognize that her granny has been replaced by a furry predator.

But in my quiet moments I wonder if she isn’t a bit of a rebel. She’s sent to the woods and wanders from the path. She converses with a dangerous stranger. And when confronted with an obvious fake grandmother, it almost seems like she’s flirting with her ridiculous questions. If Little Red Riding Hood had been written today, she’d be a badass! Maybe being eaten was a calculated risk in order to find her grandmother. I’d read that story.

Image by ImaArtist from Pixabay

My point is, we (myself included) spend a lot of time talking about fairy tales that feature women and girls who seem to lack agency, but there are plenty of interesting fairy tale characters who also fueled my love of women adventurers. It was what gave my blog its name.

The List

Romantic comedies (and any romance genre for that matter) are our modern-day equivalent of fairy tales. At least the “girl-finds-a-prince or the boy-is-given-a-princess-type” fairy tale. It has a discernable formula—two people meet, they fall in love, an obstacle separates them (and according to Hallmark movies, that’s at the hour and thirty mark), and then all hurts are mended to a happily ever after conclusion—and often used devices. One of the most used is the List.

You know what I’m talking about.

My first conscious awareness of it was as a kid watching When Harry Met Sally

One character, typically the guy, but I’ve seen some good lady lists too, enumerates all the reasons they can’t picture life without the other one. The one with the list always seems angry and frustrated to have to relate the list. The profess-ee stands, usually with tear-brightened eyes, in bewilderment. I’ve seen this done well and…not so well. Even so, I think it’s something that is glaringly absent from more traditional fairy tales.

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

Prince to Cinderella

“I think it’s adorable that cleaning products make you twitchy and you insist on going around barefoot.”

Prince Charming to Snow White

“No one eats apple pie quite like you.”

Prince to Rapunzel

“I love how grounded you are even though you live in a tower.”

If you’re thinking those aren’t really lists, you’re right. I think it’s what keeps the romance out of fairy tales. Relationships are transactional and haphazard. It's like marrying the firefighter who rescued you from a burning building when thanks (albeit profound) and maybe baked goods would do the trick. I suspect if either party were pressed for specifics about why they were together, the reasons would be unsatisfying.

Why do I bring this up? I suppose the breezy offerings at this time of year for books, movies, television and even music. Some tropes are admittedly overused, but some are as welcome as a cool breeze on a summer day. And it led me to wonder, where do fairy tales fit in? My conclusion: they don’t—at least not in a way that makes me want to use them as a romantic ideal.

Adult Rant

Maybe it’s the mom of a teenager talking, but I’m really tired of protagonists with lousy impulse control. It might also be the reason I’ve been actively seeking out books with adults. When I think about it Chosen One children or <gasp> teens would be a nightmare. Despite knowing nothing and adults actively trying to help them they have a psychotic need to “go it alone” or “try things out: at night, usually in a forest or a creepy basement.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Pexels.com

I understand the appeal, especially in speculative fiction. Powers have become a short-hand for hormones just as monstrousness or shifting has for puberty. I get it—lots of changes! But at the risk of sounding old—GET OVER IT. Too often it gives the protagonist carte blanche to treat everyone abominably after which the protag is forgiven in time to fix the mess mostly made by the protag.

For all I know fairy tale characters could have become just as tedious in the same way given the depth and breadth of a novel-length story. There is potential.

Jack’s larcenous proclivities could be the medieval equivalent of a teenage joyride in a stolen car.

Red Riding Hood’s deviation from the path, a stand-in for teen rebellion.

The boy in the Snow Queen who was infected by the evil mirror shards and ran away, analogous to runaways and drug use.

Still, I feel the need to rant. But maybe it’s just me. I know there’s a ton of people who love the snarky teen, whose only redeeming feature is saving the world. For me, it’s not enough. Do I ask for too much? Maybe.

But I’m a grown-ass adult.

Questions for the Queen

I’ve been in analysis mode with Snow White for some reason.

I’ve decided not to question it.

Ever think the mirror was messing with the queen? It was a fairy mirror and fairies are notoriously fickle and endlessly mischievous. Maybe they were tired of getting the same question over and over again.

How many times do we have to tell this woman she’s pretty? Damn!

Either the mirror wanted to get in the queen’s head or there was some fairy-dwarf feud we mere mortals are unaware of.

And why kill the girl? Wouldn’t marring her perfection work just as well and easier to pass off as an accident?

“Oops, sorry you broke your nose falling down the stairs. Is that a scar?”

“Don’t worry, I cut my own hair all the time.”

Clearly being nice didn’t figure into the “fairest” bit if the mirror was already giving her rave reviews up until Snow started growing. And the story explicitly says the queen was vain. So, stooping to some mean girl tactics are less extreme when compared to her other homicidal tendencies.

What would you ask the queen?

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First Three Things

Random thoughts are a given for most people. For writers they’re source material—the answer to the oft-asked question, “What inspired this story?” Here’s one of those stray thoughts that crept in during a sleepless night.

What were Snow White’s first thoughts when she woke up? Aside from the obvious—who’s this guy?

“What’s your name?”

“Prince Charming. You?”

“Snow White, so at least we have one thing in common.”

“What’s that?”

“Our parents were crap with names.”

Also…

What’s the proper amount of gratitude? Can I get away with, ‘Thanks, I owe you a drink,’ should I ask my miner friends for a small cache of silver and gold for this guy, or is this one of those ‘I am forever in your debt’ deals?

We all know what she chose.

And there’s always a third thought. Was it for her stepmother? Did I really fall for another costume change? Was it for her lost kingdom? O.M.G. what’s the address? Or was it something completely random? Did I leave a pot on the stove before I DIED?

These are the kinds of thoughts that can keep a girl up at night!

What do you think her first three thoughts were?

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To Warn or Not to Warn

To Warn or Not to Warn...that is the question.

One of the reasons we read fairy tales is to be transported in a predictable way. Yes, it’s all fantastical, but there are big neon sign type clues that tell you it’s coming. If you save a golden fish in a lake, you better believe it’s going to get you wishes. If a fairy godmother comes with a dress for the ball, you’re going to catch a prince’s eye. And if some rando takes your broken-down old cow and gives you beans, your garden is not getting basic wildflowers.

But would you want to know that the story contains economic hardship, foot mutilation or the dismemberment of a giant? Does it effect the experience? Admittedly fairy tales are rarely read once, so you already know what you’re getting by the first reread. I call that the Shakespeare clause. You don’t read Shakespeare for the ending—he lays that out at the beginning—you read it for the language and the twists of the plot. Unless it’s the histories, and then you already know what’s coming.

What if all you want is some surprise twists and turns? This is the Shyamalan clause. Once you know the ending, is there any point to watching the movie again? Maybe or maybe not.

This is all a long way of working out my feelings for book blurbs that tell the reader what to expect from the book explicitly. I don’t mean the “Will she save the world or lose her life?” descriptions. I mean the warnings. Lately I’ve seen a lot of addenda stating how steamy the romance will be or giving trigger warnings about violent acts. Is it really fair for the author to have to give these kinds of descriptions for a potential reader? In the case of the trigger warning, I can see the desire to warn, but as to the heat levels for the romance—that feels like you don’t want to waste a reader’s time. And I think that’s where I struggle. Part of the reading experience is wasting time. After you finish school, any reading you choose to do is just that, a choice. I know we’re all super busy, but even the book I relegated to the DNF (did not finish) pile taught me something about my likes and dislikes. You look at the cover art, you read the back blurb, you skim the first few pages and then you take a chance. It’s relatively low risk, so why not leap? Reading is literally (and literarily) a pastime.

Jack didn’t hesitate at the bottom of that beanstalk, he just climbed.

As I said earlier, I’m on the fence. Blurbs can be misleading and then as a reader you feel cheated. I’m also the person who hates watching the Netflix trailers that give away the entire story and then I don’t watch because, why bother?

How about you? Do you want to know exactly what you’re getting when you open a book or is part of the adventure finding out as you go?

Running Through the Forest with Disney

As anyone who likes fairy tales knows, it is impossible to ignore the outsized influence of Disney. Many of the stories we think of as universal are really our collective watching of movies made by The Mouse. I personally have no problem with this because I love a good fairy tale re-telling (although I admit some are not that good) and my favorite is Robin Hood.

My first animated crush

I know what you’re thinking. Robin Hood is not a fairy tale. Well, you’re right. It’s a legend, which I like to think of as an older fairy tale. There is no magic, but the Disney version created whimsy by making all the characters animals. I think it’s an inspired touch that they made Robin a fox because of their popularity in fairy tales and fables as clever. My idea of an ideal guerilla army would have a fox at its head (not a mixed metaphor!), but that’s another post.

It was my first animated crush and my first love story. Robin Hood was dashing, brave and pined for Maid Marian, who he’d known since childhood. I didn’t care that the accents were all over the place (why was Allen-a-Dale a Texan, Friar Tuck and Little John from the Midwest, various characters from the American South and only Robin, Marian, Prince John, and Hiss from England?) or that the music was decidedly 70s folk. I just loved the pageantry, the adventure and the love story. And of course Lady Kluck, who was my secret hero and gave me hope that woman (even a chicken) can fight their own battles in a story.

I also attribute Disney’s Robin Hood for starting my interest in history, Anglophilia, and stories in general. All my favorite things came together in one animated package. I’m not even ashamed to admit that on nights I can’t sleep I often quote the entire movie and play it in my head from beginning to end! I saw other live action versions, but none compared to that first experience.

I’m not entirely sure why I wrote this post other than to say that when the world seems crazy and truly horrible things are happening, it’s hard to imagine that something as trivial as fairy tales are important. Stories matter. Taking walks through the forest, real or metaphorical, can lead to the unexpected—escapism or maybe a calling.

Did a story ever steer you toward something? A life choice? A career? A life-long love affair?

The Day After

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day (as if you didn’t know), the day dedicated to love. And though it’s supposed to be about all love, romantic love is arguably the most exciting, so it’s what we focus on. I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day, but it doesn’t stop me from appreciating the symbols and gestures of the holiday. With one exception…

Fairy tales are not romantic. I’m always baffled when people claim they want “the fairy tale.” With very few exceptions, fairy tales contain none of the hallmarks of romance. No meet-cutes, no long courtships, no enemies to friends (exception being Beauty and the Beast) and all the kissing happens when one of the party is unconscious. Not romantic!

And yet, we continue to look for our romantic ideals in fairy tales that were written in a time when romance was more about worship from afar, and becoming a couple was more about joining of property than joining of soulmates.

But I do believe in literary romance—Jane Austen comes to mind—just not in fairy tales. I just prefer my happily ever after’s to actually include love. Maybe we should change the saying to wanting the “Austen novel” or “fill-in-the-blank novel” (like Susanna Kearsley or Olivia Atwater).

Or (shameless plug) The Cemetery Circle!

What’s your favorite happily ever after?

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A Winter's Story, part III: Book Divining Edition

Writers get inspiration from anywhere and everywhere, especially when they’re blocked creatively. Part III of my 100-words serial was elusive, which I hoped wasn’t an omen for edits in my third novel (currently underway). I remembered reading somewhere that there are psychics who pick a book at random, flip through, and point to a sentence to determine a reading.

Recently I bought a book of defunct English words—because words are one of the many things I geek out over—and decided it was the perfect book for my purpose. It had words like sandillions, drizzen, and idle-worms (post for another day). I flipped through the book with my eyes closed and then pointed at

Ostentiferous: adj. that which brings monsters or strange sights.

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I love lightbulb moments! Here’s what my newly-learned word inspired:

Winter’s Story, part III

The woman’s gaze careened between the lamp and the large-eyed sprite. At length her eyes settled squarely on the girl.

“It’s an ostentiferosity light,” she said matter-of-factly. At the stricken woman’s blank stare the sprite continued. “It summons the fantastical.”

“Then why are my treasures gone?” asked the woman. The sprite cocked her head considering.

“They must not have been fantastical. But you’re still here,” she replied and a slow smile spread across the sprite’s face. The woman blanched at the sight.

“What does that mean? Where did my things go?”

“Shall we go and find out?” asked the sprite.

A Winter Story, part II

Well, this is embarrassing…

A few weeks ago, I was scrambling for an idea. I’ve been remiss with my postings lately and I didn’t want another week to go by without putting something up. It’s not that I haven’t been writing—I’m in my (fingers-crossed) last couple of edit passes with my editor and outlining new projects—but when I’m in fiction mode, it’s hard to shift over to creative non-fiction. It’s what gave me my first idea.

I decided I would partake in an experiment and what is it they say about scientists who experiment on themselves? I wrote 100-word story without preparation, something I don’t do. I hoped, rather than believed, that I would come up with the next 100 words two weeks later in time for my next posting. Over a holiday! Two weeks came and went and nothing came to me.

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It is a lesson I continually learn as a writer. I’ve had ideas for stories that were only atmospheric introductions with no plot ready, story endings with no idea how the beginning would work, and even names or single lines of dialogue I’ve loved with no story to call their own.

And that’s the gig. It’s not all writing jags and entire chapters that flow effortlessly, although there are those days too.

This was a very long way of saying I’m sorry for not finishing my story on time, but here’s what I have so far:

A Winter’s Story, part II

Bright light…

…filled the dark, cold house illuminating all the things the woman had collected over the years. In the blink of an eye, every item disappeared—all except the star light. Sitting next to the light was a girl, no bigger than a doll. The girl’s wide eyes took in the empty space for a long moment while the woman dropped down to the bare floor, her hands confirming what her eyes beheld.

“It’s all gone,” they said in unison, although the woman said it as a plaintive wail and the girl with gleeful awe.

Both woman and girl were right…

A Story for Winter

Somehow the end of the year is almost upon us. There are days I wonder where the time has gone and others when I can't wait to see the back of this year! I'm sure most of your can relate. The days are shorter (in the Northern Hemisphere) and despite every natural thing saying its time to hibernate, we're more busy than ever getting ready for the holidays. For some of us that means traveling to family for the first time in over a year. I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to the traffic and rest stops with too few restrooms and long lines at the food court and yet I'm glad I have the option to do so. It also feels like the best time of the year to sit around in the dark and tell ghost stories. Here's one:

A Winter Story

Once there was a woman who lived in a large, drafty house surrounded by things instead of people. There were things that walked and things that talked. She had things that sang and things that danced. There were even things that existed only to be admired. She rescued these things from the oblivion of the unwanted.

          When the days grew shorter, and the night grew colder, the woman found a light in the shape of a star. She lovingly restored it to its former glory and on the shortest day of the year, she turned it on.

 Bright light…

Part II in two weeks!