Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful maiden. Or was it a wise old king? Or an ogre, living alone in a forest. Funny, how fairy tales come back to people so often. Of course, if rocks and trees were writing these stories, then the tale would wind itself around a lonely oak or a stubborn piece of obsidian.
But people typically like to read about people.
And fairy tales—for all that we commonly title them with fey creatures of magic and mystery—are about people. The overlooked scullery maid. The younger son. The child of the dysfunctional step-parent. Fairy tales are rarely about the witches, giants, or dragons we often associate with the label. No, fairy tales and folk tales and fables are all about people. The people we imagine. The people we know. And often, the people who tell them.
When an oral story is passed from one generation to the next—bed time stories, campfire stories, gossip on the backseat of a bus—we tell the stories we remember. Fuzzy details may be rewritten or recorrected, but we tell the stories that stick in our heads. Over time, this story and that one can become stitched together to create the sensation we want to achieve. Romance is added. Outdated morals are altered.* Anything to get that satisfying ending.
And so fairy tales still remain the oral folklore of old. Each time a story is told—or retold—it comes out a little different. Changing as much to suit our memories as to suit our audience. Writers everywhere are always in search of the right connection to bridge the gap between their imagination and their readers’ fancies. May your own fairy tales teach you as much as you pass on to the next wide-eyed listener.
*And by outdated, I mean any morals that the current generation considers “old-fashioned.” Some morals never go out of style. Some people don’t like to be held accountable for their actions, and so pretend that morals are something that happens to other people.
