Posts tagged ‘fairy godmothers’

Letters to an Unknown Fairy Godmother

Remember how I recently found a whole stash of my childhood diaries? And remember how I exposed some of my embarrassing childhood moments to you online where they will now live forever? Well, I have another confession:

For the longest time I believed in some faceless, nameless, anonymous fairy godmother. Way past the point where it was socially acceptable.

A good point....

Yes, apparently, I have been blogging about my random life long before “blogging” was a word–my sister recently confessed to reading every entry– and there nestled within my  journals were pages and pages of letters spanning back in time starting when I was 6 and going all the way up until I was 13.  Letters upon letters, upon letters.  All addressed to my Fairy Godmother.

My Fairy Godmother was not a slut. Just saying.

They talked about my life, my wishes, my worries about my future.  They were misspelled and random.  Some were about my dream playhouse. Some were about boys. Then there were the letters during my environmental phase when I was 9 where I asked my Fairy Godmother for fewer cars and that “animals not be hunt down and killed for their fur.”  Those letters were then followed by my Born Again Christian phase where I somehow managed combine Christianity with fairytale beliefs in magic when I asked my “F.G.” –cause by that point I was too cool to say Fairy Godmother– for the salvation of mankind.  I was 10.  Good times.

But despite my different phases and interests, the letters to my F.G. never stopped.  They lasted all the way up until high school, and always included not just my wishes but also all of the things happening in my life that I though she should be aware of.  When 9/11 hit, I wrote F.G a letter–just in case she missed it–and when I changed schools when I was 10–I wrote her a letter about that too.  She was like my imaginary, magical friend straight out of reading too many fairytales.  And each letter would end with some random wish.

I don’t really know if I honestly expected my F.G. to grant me my wish or write me back–most of my letters included inquires about her own well-being–but I do know that I must have felt there was some benefit in writing them. I guess I’ve always been a fanciful person, as my F.G. could probably tell you if you ever manage to locate her. And not looking back at all those letters, I realize that the magic of fairytales has always tickled my imagination.

So in honor of my box of letters to an unknown Fairy Godmother, I give you my latest review for RT BOOKREVIEWS. A sexy, modern take on a classic Cinderella tale. Enjoy!

August 31, 2011 at 8:22 am Leave a comment

The Diary of Lizzie P.

I was recently packing up my childhood room in one of those symbolic, “graduated college and now moving away to the Big Bad City” kind of moves, and while packing up clothes and books and more books and then some more books, I found an old box under my bed where I kept all my old diaries and journals.  Can you say Memory Lane?

Well, I can! And while reading those entries–dated from age 6 all the way up to high school–I learned three things.

Number 1: I have always been “wored about my futur” which since I couldn’t spell at all apparently translated as “worried about my future.”  Yes, once upon a time a little 8 year-old Lizzie poured out her heart into the pages of her diaries and along with wishes for a boyfriend and a playhouse–one she got and one her parents still refuse to give her–there were numerous mentioned of how she was “worried about her future.”  Because what would she do career-wise? What about college? Yes, college was a huge concern for me.  When I was 12, I confessed in another diary that I was very concerned about what school I would attend, my GPA, and whether I had the grades after all “college is only 5 years away.”

Number 2: I do not have a future as a children’s book author or a Spelling Bee champ. Oh man, I found a collection of stories written for class projects.  And they were…yeah.  One was about a missing cat,  just look at that picture to the left. That should say, “I bet he may be upstairs in the bathroom.  That’s where he always hides. No he is not there but I did find my…”  The other image is from my original picture book, The Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Butcher because apparently, I thought the butcher was the new wolf. And a great idea for a children’s book.

Number 3: I really wanted two things: a play house and a boyfriend. Almost every other entry was about either some crush I had at school or my ever-present desire for a place of my own. I wanted my own crib and a man to go with it. Or well, boy in this case.  First I loved Lee, then I loved Chad, and then I loved Everett, and the lists went on and on about how cute they were and how awesome and how funny.  And to combine #1, 2, and 3 by the time I reached 13, I started writing about how worried I was because I liked the same boy as my BFF.  I actually commented that I knew “it was just a crush and nothing serous like love (bec I don’t think I have the maturty for love yet) but still.”  Even if I couldn’t spell it at least I recognized my age and “maturty” level!

So in honor of my walk down memory lane, my worries about my future, and the most unlikely children’s books ever, I give you my list of 5 Essential Childhood Reads.  The five books that I read over and over and over again from 6-13–discounting the whole HP series because that’s really not fair. I think you may understand why I was so strange after reading this list.

  1. Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine. What little girl doesn’t love a fairytale? Apparently, I thought they were true.
  2. The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien .  These book were so worn out by the time I reached high school that I had to buy a new set.
  3. Anna and the Duke by Kathryn Smith. In my defense, this romance novel was cleaned-up and meant for teens. Or in my case pre-teens.
  4. Moonlight Becomes You by Mary Higgins Clark. I really wasn’t a fan of picture books so by the time I was 11, it was like Adult Fiction here I come.
  5. Sabriel by Garth Nix.  I still read this every year. Sometimes more than once. Necromancy is so fascinating.

August 26, 2011 at 12:10 pm Leave a comment


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