The Cinderella Plan

Author’s note (yes, the author would be me): Here’s a bit of lighthearted frippery I wrote a while back, supposed to be short (less than 750 words!) and sweet and perhaps a little ridiculous. Hope you enjoy.

I watched as the archduke approached, gingerly carrying a ridiculously impractical glass slipper across the room. Soon he would ask me to try it on. This was my moment. Feigning clumsiness as he presented it to me, I jostled his wrist and gasped as the slipper crashed to the floor.

At first he only stared in shock at the scattered shards, but then he began to weep. Poor man. “Don’t cry,” I told him, reaching into my apron pocket. “I have the other one.” His eyes darted to the shoe I held out, and he began to smile again.

Trust a man not to notice the glaring size difference between the original slipper and mine.

“Thank you for finding me!” I threw my arms around him and wailed. A little melodrama couldn’t hurt. “I’ve missed my prince so desperately!”

He escorted me out to the carriage. And just like that, I was on my way to the palace and my betrothal.

***

I’d resisted my parents’ suggested brides for years. The fiscal irresponsibility of the parties they dreamed of throwing for my nuptials was almost a greater deterrent than the brides themselves.

Almost.

Apparently their only requirement for my wife was that she sport the latest hairstyle. A brain was unnecessary. And a bit of common sense was quite undesirable. They didn’t want someone who would actually agree with my budgets and projections. At this rate, by the time the kingdom became mine, it would be destroyed.

As my parents increased the pressure to marry—increasing the costs of their wife-finding extravaganzas as well—I finally came up with a desperate plan. A fake mystery woman. A whirlwind romance. An impossibly tiny glass slipper that would never fit anyone. I would gain months of peace if I could convince my parents I was heartbroken when the archduke couldn’t find my true love.

***

Of course I wasn’t the girl from the ball. She didn’t exist. I was just a girl with a few unorthodox ideas, a penchant for eavesdropping on secret plans, and an unhealthy love of meddling. But no one listens to the ideas of an unimportant glassblower’s niece, no matter how marvelous. As the prince’s new fiancée, however, I had a chance.

Oh, he wouldn’t be pleased at first (men always think their plans are the only way to do something), but I was exactly what he needed.

***

The herald approached my parents’ thrones and announced, “The archduke has returned, victorious in his search for the slipper’s owner!”

“What?” I sputtered. “He wasn’t supposed to—” Mother shot me a surprised look. “I mean . . . I’m so thrilled he’s back. I just thought the journey would take longer.” I pasted on a smile of delight. “Bring her in!” Then I would decide how to get rid of the impostor. No gold-digging piece of fluff was going to trick her way into marrying me.

***

I sallied into the throne room wearing last year’s gown. The queen had looked excited when I entered, but now she cringed. I smiled. She’d change her mind soon enough, but first I had to convince the prince to hear me out.

“Darling! I feared we’d be parted forever!” I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck—the perfect position for secret conversation. Plus it couldn’t hurt to waft a little lilac scent over the poor man.

“Who are you?” he hissed into my ear.

“Your fiancée, of course,” I whispered back.

“Whatever you want, you’re not getting it.”

Straight to the point, then. “I want to help you. You’ve been going about things with your parents all wrong. Spreadsheets will never convince them to change.”

“Oh? And what will?”

I smiled wickedly. “Fashion, my dear.”

He pulled back, aghast. “Fashion?”

“Yes,” I told him firmly. “Retro-minimalist fashion, to be exact. Bring back the stuff that’s been sitting in the attic for starters. I made some charts for you to look at.”

“You did?” He perked up. I knew the prince couldn’t resist a good chart.

“Yes. But first we have to convince them this is real.”

“How?”

“Kiss me, of course.” I winked.

***

Could her plan possibly work? She smiled warmly, and I thought it might be worth a try. I’d have to consult her charts to decide for sure, but maybe my fortunes—and my kingdom’s—were turning around. So I leaned down to kiss my new ally. My new fiancée.

Now I just had to find out her name. 

On the Eve of November

This is my fourth attempt at writing something meaningful and clear and interesting here. So far it hasn’t worked. So let me lay it out straight, incomplete, and unpretty:

When I wrote up my November challenge, I was happy to see that several people had things they really did want to do and might actually be encouraged to work on in November (list below). But I also realized that I hadn’t defined the idea well enough or broadly enough. Some people have crazy, insane dreams like publishing novels. Some people don’t. This is all perfectly well and good. Quite frankly, I am actually kind of jealous of people whose dreams are more domestic (this is a topic for later, one I haven’t really fleshed out or fully understood yet). So if you don’t have a huge November project, maybe you could have some “smaller” things to work on (small perhaps in physical scope but not in effect or level of personal importance). Or maybe you are already living and doing the things that are really important to you. If so, congrats! That’s awesome. I’m really jealous of you too. I struggle on a daily basis to do the writing I want to do (if I did as much as I meant to, you’d be hearing from me a lot more often). I struggle on a daily basis to do the mothering I want to do (if I did, my children would be a lot happier, be cleaner and better fed, and feel more loved).

So whatever it is that brings you joy and brings you closer to who you are meant to be, do a little more of that this month! Or just do what you already told me you might do…

Dawn: Finish up 30 days’ worth of sewing projects! I’m already excited to see everything you make.

Kem: Write a racecar game (step 1 in a plan that I think sounds supercool).

Kirsa: Start painting her Giant Canvas of Doom (or, you know, just a giant canvas without any 

doom).

Marci: Work on her art projects, fifteen minutes a day. (Granted, I haven’t heard how Hurricane Sandy treated her family--in New York--so she may have more urgent matters to attend to in November.)

Marneen: Decide which of her awesome ideas would make her feel happiest at the end of the month. Then do that one! :)

Meghan: Write a novel, baby!

Michael: Write a novel (a different one from Meghan’s)! :)

Michelle: Finish that tree skirt—just in time for Christmas!

I suppose I should also toss in my plans for November, in case you’d forgotten (not likely, I know, given the amount of time I spend talking about it). Fifty thousand words! A novel! Craziness! Cashing in all my wifey points! Avoiding Facebook like the plague! And also avoiding blogs and email too! And tossing in a few exclamation points, just for good measure!!! These are the things I have planned for November.

Okay, people, go and do! And keep me updated! And take pictures so we can all revel in our awesomeness at the end of the month!

Book Review: A Tale Dark and Grimm

I recently got to listen to Adam Gidwitz and several other authors* discuss fairy tales, why people love them, and why these authors had chosen to retell them in some way. These people were funny, delightful characters. I wanted to invite them all over for a party and a book club. I wanted to shake their hands and soak in their awesomeness. And—probably what they cared about more than my admiration—I wanted to buy their books.

 

So I picked up a copy of Gidwitz’s A Tale Dark and Grimm. Gidwitz himself was witty, amusing, and used the word “awesome” at least five times—which I found to be, quite frankly, awesome. How could I not buy his book? On a more serious note: He talked about the archetypal quality of fairy tales, and how that makes them—even the gruesome ones—less traumatic to read and easier for children to process. He said that he deliberately tried to keep that quality in his books so he could tell the worst tales without overwhelming children. I was intrigued; generally what I have loved about fairy tale retellings is that they take the archetypal and vague qualities and give them life and depth and complexity and specificity. I wanted to see how he made his versions work.

And, to my view, he did so beautifully. I think there are three things that make this book work so well:

First, the narrative voice. The narrator, like Gidwitz himself, is dry and funny and gives you the opportunity to step back briefly from the worst parts of the story. A repeated theme when he gets to the gruesome bits is something like, “Now, have we made sure there are no children in the room?” Or, “You may want to skip this next part.” A bit like Lemony Snicket, but he doesn’t overwhelm the narrative like Snicket sometimes did.

The point is that the narrator provides opportunities to step out of the story for a moment and warns you when it’s about to get bad, inserts humorous asides and commentaries, and even throws in a good moral or two for kicks.

Which leads us directly to the second thing that I think works nicely in this book: the bits of moral thrown in. I tend to be one who hates being beaten over the head by morals in fiction.** And a lot of the original fairy tales are pretty much a lesson wrapped into some bare minimum of plot. And yet. He manages tossing in a fair number of morals or at least ideas to consider, I think partially because of the matter-of-fact way the narrator and the characters face difficult and/or illuminating truths. And the personal way they do it.

And finally, the third bit that makes this book so delightful: the overall structure. In short, the story follows Hansel and Gretel through the twists and turns of a whole slew of Grimm fairy tales, most of which I didn’t know (fun times! I want to go read them now!). Gidwitz has made them the featured characters in all those stories that just had “a girl” or “a boy” in them. They’re the stars. And then he also does a nice job at the end of showing how we got the versions we have. But pulling together so many disparate tales into one fluid story? Fun and delightful.

Overall, yes, it’s gruesome. There is blood, there is dismemberment, there is boiling a warlock in oil with a bunch of poisonous snakes. There are murderers and terrible decisions and sadness and death. And while some heads are reattached, and some wounds are miraculously fixed (it turns out stringettes probably would be helpful!), some are not. But there’s a kind of meaning in all the suffering (mostly). I hate to say it’s lovely, because that’s a pretty weird word to attach to this book. Especially if I want any young boys to read it. But it kind of is.

I’ve checked out the next one, In a Glass Grimmly, from the library. Looking forward to reading that one too.

*Including Shannon Hale! Squee! But that is a story for another time.

**If I’m reading various genres of nonfiction, I’m perfectly willing to expect it. After all, who reads a self-help book not wanting to get the moral to the story?