Intuitive Editing

Recently, I had the pleasure of being in the company of Tiffany Yates Martin, a developmental editor of note and buddies with Jane Friedman. I, being a member of the committee for the three-day Write Stuff Writers Conference, helped arrange for her to be a presenter and our keynote speaker. She was quite a delight.

Because of an earlier career as an actor, Tiffany has honed the skill of presenting to sleep-deprived conference attendees, keeping us awake as she made salient points, points worthy of which one should take note. Inspired by her presentations, I purchased her book Intuitive Editing: A Creative & Practical Guide to Revising Your Writing at the conference book fair. (Got it signed, of course.) It is my current favorite book on writing.

Beyond the introduction and before the final word, she divides the work into four sections and thirteen chapters. I think it illustrative to simply list the sections and chapter headings. I like the way she has broken things down.

Part I: Macroedits

            Character

            Stakes

            Plot

Part II: Microedits

            Suspense And Tension

            Point of View

            Showing and Telling

            Structure

            Momentum and Pace

            Voice

Part III: Line edits

            Line Editing

Part IV: Getting Feedback

            How to Train Your Editor Brain

            The Frugal Author’s Guide to Getting Editorial Feedback

            Hiring a Pro

Within the chapters, as she addresses problems, she has the recurring subheadings labeled How to find it and How to fix it. She uses many examples to illustrate problems but is also quick to bullet point for simple, concise clarity. I appreciate the mixture.

I will also point to chapter eleven, where she spends eight pages on critique groups and provides the most exhaustive coverage of the topic and its pros and cons that I have encountered in books about writing.

I did scan the reviews of the book on Amazon. Mostly positive. I found the objection that there is nothing ‘intuitive” about the work to be valid. It is all very practical advice. I found the one-star review that dealt with the reviewer’s objection to the way she referred to Dan Brown’s works to say more about the reviewer than about the author. (You’ll have that.)

My next read might well be her The Intuitive Author: How to Grow & Sustain a Happier Writing Career.

There are other worthwhile books on writing:

On Writing, Stephen King

The Writing Life, Annie Dillard

Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott

The Elements of Style, William Strunk & E.B. White

Story, Robert McKee

Steering the Craft, Ursula K. Le Guin

To name a few, some are still on my books-to-read list.

What are your favorite books on writing?

A Daughter

I got to bed a little early and fell asleep immediately. But now it is four in the morning, and I am wide awake. There is something about four in the morning that is different than any other hour except for, perhaps, midnight.

For a reason I cannot remember, a copy of Dawkin’s More Greek Folktales is on my nightstand. I sit up in bed, fluff up my pillows, and use Thalia’s method to choose a story. I close my eyes and stab my finger at the table of contents. The Wild Man and His Daughter will help to put me back to sleep.

A king has three daughters, whom he asks to dream of him and then relate their dreams. The first two daughters tell of glorious images of their father. The third and youngest tells of a dream where the moon bows down to a star and washes her hands.

The king interprets the dream to mean he will one day humble himself to this daughter. Incensed, he banishes her, leaving her deep in a forest to be devoured by animals. Through her wit, she survives and comes to a white tower in which she finds food to eat.

Uncertain as to who lives there, she sets the table for a meal, then hides herself in a lemon tree in the garden. A wild man shows up and calls out to whoever has done him this kindness. The girl, afraid to answer him, stays silent. This goes on for days, the girl keeping his house when he is gone, and not until the wild man swears great oaths not to harm her does she show herself.

The wild man takes her in as his daughter. After some time, when she offers to clean his head, she discovers the keys to the wild man’s forty storerooms in his hair, bundled into a piece of cloth. He allows her to enter all of the rooms except for the last one. It takes three days, but she succumbs to curiosity. The storeroom proves to be empty, but a window opens up into a royal garden. She makes herself comfortable there, under a lemon tree, to sit and work on her embroidery.

A golden bird comes to sit in the lemon tree and tells her the wild man plans to fatten her up and then eat her. After she returns home, the wild man sees her sadness, knows she has entered the last storeroom, and asks her what she saw there. The girl tells him of the golden bird.

He instructs her to tell the golden bird the story that the king of the royal garden is fattening the bird to eat him. She will dine on him on her wedding day to the king, and her father, the wild man, will drink his blood from a china cup.

This conversation between the girl and the bird happens three times, each time scaring feathers off of the bird. The king of the royal garden, wanting to know why the golden bird is losing its feathers, investigates and spies the girl.

Wishing to marry her, he sends his mother to bring her presents. The wild man anticipates this and tells his daughter to make light of the gifts. A golden chain is used to hang a lamp, bracelets are used as collars for puppies, and pearls are thrown before chickens. At last, the king sends his mother with a ring of betrothal, which the wild man tells her to accept.

Not long after the marriage, the wild man tells his daughter he will soon suffer an epileptic fit—a disease of the moon—during which she must cut off his head. His body will turn into a golden throne for her to sit upon, and his head must be planted in the ground, from which will grow an immense tree, its flowers turning overnight into pearls and piling themselves on the ground. She must share this wealth with all, rich and poor.

Her birth father, whose fortunes had fallen away after he banished his youngest daughter, hears of this generous queen and travels to visit her. When she sees him coming, she and her husband open the gate and call for a feast. During the feast, the father humbles himself before this queen and washes her hands. She tells him who she is, and they are reconciled. She sends him home with much wealth.

The tale does not help me sleep. I think of my own daughter and our contentions with each other. My mind is still in that mode as I see the sun rising.

Wild Man and His Daughter – Part Two

Forbidden Room

Augustus’s newest blend, named after the last Greek fairy tale I related to him, Dove Maiden, is quite delightful. Unusually mild for Augustus, made up mostly of Cavendish and Izmir Turkish with a secret ingredient he will not divulge. We sit on our comfy chairs in his testing room, filling it with our pipe smoke.

“And what tale offering do you have today?” Augustus asks.

“Tale offering?” I say. “What makes you think I have a tale offering?”

His eyebrows rise in pretend alarm.

“Oh, okay,” I relent, “of course I do. The Wild Man and His Daughter. Another Greek Dawkins tale like the last one I told you.’

“Oh good.” Augustus settles back into his chair as I tell the tale.

When I finish, it is followed by minutes of contemplative silence before he says, “What a charming blending of some standard motifs along with a surprise or two. I am going to compare it with Cap O’ Rushes, although the similarities are superficial.

“Let’s start with the motif of a king asking his three daughters to demonstrate their love for him, and the youngest is banished for her answer. I think of this as the King Lear thing, but Shakespeare borrowed the motif from the fairy tales and did not invent it. He also turned it into a tragedy when the fairy-tale conclusions are not.

“Both our tale and Cap O’ Rushes start with the King Lear thing, and the heroines end up in a kitchen as maids. Both have three events in their ordeal: three balls or three evenings of dancing. Both end with reconciliation with the father. There the comparison ends.

“In Cap O’ Rushes, the heroine takes charge of her life when abandoned by her father. In The Wild Man and His Daughter, the heroine is adrift until adopted. The wild man dictates her life going forward. I think Melissa would agree with me.”

“While holding an ax to grind, I’m sure she would,” I nod.

Augustus smiles and continues after relighting his pipe. “The wild man interests me. The story gives little description?”

“None,” I say.

“The girl,” Augustus continues, “finds a packet of keys hidden in his hair. That does suggest voluminous growth, but I may be conjecturing. The term ‘wild man’ in Greek may imply something other than what we think.

“Now, the forty rooms is a Greek thing. I have come across that before. That the fortieth room holds the key to her future, a room the wild man wanted her to avoid, is, for me, the turning point in the story.

The forbidden room in fairy tales is always life-changing for the heroine or hero, although it is usually entered by a heroine and not a hero. The event leads to a challenge. In the case of Bluebeard, the room is filled with body parts of other women victims. In our case, it is the entrance to a royal garden, where, nonetheless, the girl meets the golden bird and his seeding of doubt. The daughter’s mistrust of her wild-man father proves to be a momentary blip in the tale. She follows his instructions to the letter and in that way wins the heart of the king.”

Augustus pauses to repack and light his pipe. “When the heroine and king are happily married, many stories would end there. Not so in this tale. In our tale, the wild man makes the ultimate sacrifice. Remember, this is a Greek fairy tale. Alexander the Great was Greek. Alexander suffered from epilepsy. That the wild man suffers the same, I think no coincidence. Our unknown storyteller purposely made the connection.

“Cutting off the head of the story’s helper, often a fox or a horse, is a common enough motif. They usually transform into a prince, the brother of the story’s princess, or some such.

“Here, his body transforms into a throne for her to sit upon. His head becomes a source of wealth, which she is obliged to share with all and not profit from personally. That act leads to the reconciliation with her father.”

Augustus nods, drawing a contented puff on his pipe at his conclusions.

I still have questions.

Wild Man and His Daughter – Part Three

Disappearing Fathers

“I am thinking,’ I say, repacking my pipe, “dads get a bad rap in the fairy tales. Particularly regarding daughters.”

“Oh, how’s that?” Augustus puffs contentedly.

“Well, beyond the King Lear thing, let’s take Donkey Skin. The inciting incident comes when the father, the king, wishes to marry his daughter. This is hardly a role model for us elderly gentlemen.”

“Completely scandalous,” Augustus agrees.

“In Snow White,” I state, “her father remarries and allows the new queen to demote, then attempt to kill his daughter. He not only abandons her to the queen’s machinations but abandons the story completely. We never hear of him again. Oh, the disappearing father is quite common in the tales.

“In The Goose Girl, we come to a wise and effective king, but, like the wild man, he is a substitute father figure. The goose girl is not his daughter. Her father died years ago, another disappearing dad. We are right up there with the evil stepmother.”

“Let me think on this aloud.” Augustus’s eyes unfocus as he stares toward the billows of smoke in the room. “There is the Beauty and the Beast/East of the Sun and West of the Moon type of story. After the merchant/father’s near-fatal encounter with a beast, the youngest daughter is given over with her consent, a noble sacrifice that protects the family. The father does not disappear from the story but becomes ineffectual, I will agree.”

Augustus takes a few more puffs. “Ah! The Juniper Tree. The father is present throughout this story. The relationship is really between the father and the son, although there is a stepdaughter involved. Oh! But if I recall correctly, the stepmother tricks him into eating his son. No. No. Not a good role model either. The father is at best a fool.”

Augustus takes a few more puffs. “So, you are saying fathers get disrespect in the tales?”

“I am saying fathers of daughters are fated to come off badly. Fathers of sons is a different matter. The usual storyline is that a father/king has three sons, whom he sends off on some sort of quest. Typically, the two elder brothers gang up on the youngest, but that is another story. The father means them no harm and rewards the young hero at the end. The Three Feathers is an example of my argument.”

Augustus taps out his pipe. “Almost off topic, but can we think of any stories with an evil stepfather?”

“Well, that’s a conversation stopper,” I chuckle. “While that would be the ultimate bad PR for dads to bolster my argument, I can’t think of any at the moment. There has got to be one out there, but certainly not as common as evil stepmothers and stepsisters. We will not consider evil step-uncles, evil step-aunts, evil step-grandparents, evil step-cousins, or evil step-second cousins twice removed. The tales just don’t go there.”

I grin, and Augustus shakes his head, then looks at me sidelong. “Does your obsession with the fairy-tale father and daughter thing have anything to do with you and your daughter?”

There’s a conversation stopper. Augustus knows me too well.
I knock out my pipe, repack it, and light up. Augustus is still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

“When her husband committed suicide, I could not help but feel she was complicit. When she—let’s say devolved—the court gave me guardianship over Thalia.”

“And your wife died about the same time,” Augustus adds.

“Yes. Overwhelmed, I bought another house, demarcating a new beginning for me. In my daughter’s eyes, I had sold her childhood home and stolen her daughter.

“Not until I read The Wild Man and His Daughter last night did I ever consider her point of view. Will she and I ever reconcile?”

Augustus sets down his pipe. “Isn’t it interesting how fantasy and fairy tales can get us to consider our real lives?”

I know Augustus is my tobacconist. I didn’t realize he was my analyst.

Your thoughts?

This month, I will talk about critique sessions and critique groups. I’ll address critique sessions first.

For years, I have been a member of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group, which hosts the Write Stuff Writers Conference. As long as I have been associated with them, the conference has had a “Page Cut” critique session as one of the Friday night offerings of this three-day conference.

An attendee can sign up—there is a small fee—and we limit the number to ten authors per room and allow up to three rooms. On the day of, the author brings four copies of a no-more-than-one-hundred-word synopsis of their work and four copies of the first page of their novel (about 250 words). In both cases, the documents are devoid of the author’s name. In the front of the room is a host/reader and a panel of three experts. These experts—authors, editors, and agents—are the presenters for the Saturday, all-day three-ring circus of sessions, which is the main event of the conference.

During the Page Cut session, the host reads the synopsis and the first page to the panel and audience of each participant in turn, the panel can follow along with their copies and then give their first impressions of the work. (The presenters like this since there are no pre-conference evaluations they must do.)

The fun is—while waiting with bated breath for them to come to your work—you hear the anonymous works of others, have your first impressions, and see how they compare to the experts. (OK, someone in the room is going to know it’s your work, but for the most part, you are anonymous.)

Our Friday night social follows the Page Cut, and there is a cash bar if you really need it.

Concerning critique groups, I am sure there is a range of opinions. My own is that we need one. Particularly if you are self-publishing and not inclined to afford more than a proofreader. Your critique group is the one who will say, “Who’s speaking here?” or “Wait, didn’t you kill that character off in chapter one?”

I have been part of various critique groups, although only one at a time. There can be—and should be—a good amount of time dedicated. Every group is set up differently. In one of my groups, a member submitted a piece for a given month, and the other members critiqued it. The next month, another member submitted a piece for consideration.

In my present group—the word ‘present’ is misleading; we have been together for more than a decade—we meet monthly, each of us submits ten to twenty pages of our work in progress ahead of time. In Word, we use the review function and make copious notes and analyses. In our Zoom meetings, we share these documents and discuss them. There are three of us, and the meetings are about three hours long. I am not sure that critique groups of more than five people can be useful.

I will note here, this group used to be the perfect critique group. Pre-pandemic, we met at each other’s houses, followed the process pretty much as described above, then the host treated the other two to lunch. Being foodies, it was a competition to outdo each other for those few years. The word “Camelot” comes to mind.

Then the pandemic hit, and one of us moved way out of state. Since then, the meetings have been over Zoom. Still highly valuable. We understand each other’s work and what we are trying to achieve, although we are in different genres. Nonetheless, we miss the lunches.

Below is my recipe for Gado Gado sauce, an all-time favorite of our competitive lunches. Put it over your choice of steamed vegetables and shredded cooked chicken if you wish.

Gado Gado Sauce

2 cups warm water

1 ½ cups peanut butter

3 tsp minced garlic

1 tsp red pepper

6 tbsp lemon juice

4 tbsp molasses

6 tbsp soy sauce

If you decide to start your own critique group, consider meeting at a restaurant. I was part of one of those, too.

That’s Irish

Thalia and Jini have come to an agreement. Jini will celebrate St. Patrick’s Day if Thalia will celebrate Diwali with Jini. Sounds like a good bargain to me. Jini has already been anglicized into recognizing Christmas. Well, there are gifts involved. Why not another holy day? However, I think Thalia gets the better part of the deal. Diwali goes on for five days.

We’ve had our sumptuous meal of leek soup, corned beef and cabbage (which Jini skipped), and colcannon, ending with shortbread cookies. We, including Mellisa, have settled into the study for Thalia’s reading of an Irish tale.

“The King of Erin and the Queen of The Lonesome Island,” Thalia announces. She holds a copy of Jeremiah Curtin’s Myth and Folk-lore of Ireland.

The King of Erin, out hunting, spotted and gave chase to a black pig, which ran into the ocean, and yet, the king followed, barely surviving. He found shelter in a castle where all his needs were invisibly attended to. During the next two days, the king tried to leave the castle but traveled all day to find himself at the castle door by evening.

On the third evening, his hostess revealed herself and explained that she was the black pig that lured him to the castle. She and her two sisters remained under an enchantment that will be broken by their son that the King of Erin and she, the Queen of The Lonesome Island, will have between them. In the morning, she will let him return to his kingdom.

The son was born, and the queen raised him, teaching him her magical arts of wisdom and war.

Years later, the queen sent her son to defend her “friend,” the King of Erin—the son not knowing he was his father—against the King of Spain and his army. Single-handedly, the son destroyed the army and the king.

The king’s rightful but deceitful queen convinced him that their champion was their eldest son, drugged the true champion, and threw him into the river. Washed out to sea, he was rescued, and he returned to The Lonesome Island.

The son of the King of Spain, now the new king, soon attacked again to avenge his father’s death, and the Queen of The Lonesome Island sent her son again.

Things fall out similarly as before, but the deceitful queen’s new ruse was the claim that she was dying and only water from the well at Tubber Tintye could cure her. Taking the deceitful queen’s two sons with him, he set out on his next adventure.

Aided by the two sisters of the Queen of The Lonesome Island, also under enchantment, they instructed him on the deadly obstacles facing him, at which the cowardly brothers found excuses not to follow him. With the help of a lean, shaggy little horse, which addressed him as the son of the King of Erin, revealing the son’s true identity, he was carried over a burning river, through poisonous trees, and into a castle where all the monsters, giants, warriors, and other castle inhabitants had fallen into a seven-year sleep. He passed through the twelve chambers of the maids-in-waiting and into that of the Queen of Tabber Tintye, in whose chamber was the well of the healing water.

He lingered there for six days with the sleeping queen. He left with the healing water, leaving behind a letter explaining that he was the son of the King of Erin. After his departure, back through the poisonous trees and over the burning river, and at the horse’s request, he killed and quartered the beast, touching the pieces with a druid’s wand, turning it all back into the four princes that had formed the horse.

Seven years later, the Tubber Tintye Queen woke up to find she had a six-year-old son. She and her army descended on the King of Erin’s kingdom, intent on finding out which of his sons was the father of her child. The test was who could ride her gray steed. The cowardly sons died in the attempt. The true son succeeded. The deceitful queen was consigned to the flames, the King of Erin married the Queen of The Lonesome Island, their son married the Queen of Tubber Tintye, and all remaining enchantments were dissolved.

“Oh, wow, so that’s Irish,” says Jini.

Yup, that’s Irish.

Fairy Tale of the Month: March 2025 The King of Erin and the Queen of The Lonesome Island – Part Two

Talking Animals

“But why,” Jini frowns a bit, “would a king go chasing after a pig and follow it into the sea? Seems rather unking-like.”

“Oh,” Melissa answers, “pigs have a special place in Irish lore. There are quite a few legends involving pigs. For example, The Boar of Ben Gulbain. This involves the death of the hero Diarmuid of the famous Irish warriors called the Fianna. He was the son of Donn and Cochrain, both of the Fianna clan. Donn had a falling out with the rest of the Fianna, and Diarmuid became a foster child of Aengus, one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, who were divinities of a sort.

“Donn’s wife then had another child, but not by one of the Fianna. Donn killed the child, but a magician turned it into a wild boar with the prediction that the half-brothers would kill each other.

“In an attempt to save his foster son, Aengus put a geas—a kind of Irish curse—on Diarmuid that he should never hunt a pig.

“Skipping Diarmuid’s interesting history, I come to the end. Fionn, King of the Fianna was not too fond of Diarmuid, who stole his would-be bride, Gráinne, from him. Thus he failed to protect Diarmuid from the wild boar—Diarmuid’s half-brother—who had killed a number of Fionn’s men. As predicted, the half-brothers kill each other.”

“That’s so Irish!” Thalia giggles.

Jini appears disconcerted. “Isn’t that gratuitous violence?”

“Not if you’re Irish,” I say with a smile.

“In early times,” Melissa continues, “the Irish were a warrior culture. However, the Christians arrived in the fifth century and tamed them. In the ninth century, the Vikings arrived and had them for breakfast.”

“I think you are oversimplifying,” I state. Melissa only grins at me.

“Ok, so what about this talking horse?”

I admire Jini’s unrelenting curiosity.

“Horses, like pigs, have their role in Irish stories.” Melissa temples her fingers and nods her head toward them. “There are only a few animals with the power of speech in the Irish tales. Even pigs, in pig form, don’t talk. Horses talk. Eagles, bulls, and foxes talk. Now that I think about it, that might be all, except when there is a convocation of animals, or only animals are talking to other animals. There are no talking ducks, or chickens, or bears. Enchanted Nordic bears talk, of course. Did you know there are no bears in Ireland? No snakes. No bears.”

Melissa pauses to collect her thoughts. I think the Guinness I poured for her might have loosened her tongue.

“Let me go off-the-wall,” she says. “I have a personal theory. Talking animals have something to do with transportation.”

“What?” I say. “Explain.”

She gives me another grin and takes a sip of her stout. “Think about it. All the talking animals in the Irish tales can be ridden. Even the fox, magically, can carry heroes on its tail. Eagles often fly heroes about. Bulls are usually carrying young women, shades of the abduction of Europa.

“A little off my topic, while there are no talking snakes in Irish tales—no surprise—but neither are there talking snakes in any European tales that I know of, despite there being a talking serpent in the Bible. Talking snakes in Eastern tales are not unusual.”

I notice Johannes napping on his window seat. “What about talking cats? Puss in Boots, and all that?”

“Not Irish. That is more French and German,” she says.

“Oh, right.”

Johannes stirs but does not speak.

Fairy Tale of the Month: March 2025 The King of Erin and the Queen of The Lonesome Island – Part Three

Three Queens

“We are not getting to the core of this story.” Thalia snaps the book closed. “There are three queens. Three’s a crowd.”

“Not to mention half-brothers.” Jini rests her forehead on her hand in puzzlement.

“Let’s start with the Queen of The Lonesome Island.” Melissa takes another sip of Guinness. “She provided the inciting incident, the luring of the king of Erin to her castle and entrapping him there until he did her bidding. Making love to a beautiful woman, I don’t think was all that hard for him.”

She pauses for a second. “Men are not that good at thinking about consequences, but I will not go there.”

I wonder about her former husband, to whom she has made reference, and I will ignore Thalia’s and Jini’s perplexed stares.

Melissa continues. “Their son, destined to lift the curse on her and her two sisters through his actions, does so. What is not clear in the story is the nature of the curse. Nor is the origin of the curse given to us.”

“Oh, yeah.” Thalia’s eyes widen. “You know, I didn’t even notice that. The curse is lifted, but nothing changes. The Queen of The Lonesome Island is still the queen, and her sisters are still her sisters.”

“What about the enchantment of the little shaggy horse?” asks Jini, in whose lap Johannes has crept to have his ears scratched.

“That’s not a device I have seen before,” I can’t help saying. “Four princes enchanted into one entity? Strange. And they appear to be four random princes, and, again, the origin of their enchantment is not given.

“I have also noticed, in this tale, as in many others, enchanted beings also possess magic themselves. Enchanted fishes are always granting wishes.”

“Granting wishes like fishes.” Thalia tests out a rhyme. Jini giggles.

“Then there is the Queen of Tubber Tintye,” Melissa states. Oh, but she is holding court tonight. “There appears to be an undeclared curse on her as well. I think a seven-year sleep would not be voluntary.

“If they are under enchantment, its origin, again, is not stated. In the end, by her actions, any remaining enchantments are dissolved.

“The fall guys in this tale are the first wife of the King of Erin and their two sons, who were ruled by deceit and cowardliness. In fairy-tale terms, they deserved their punishment.

“However, setting all that aside, this is a women’s tale.”

Thalia and Jini brighten at the thought, and Melissa goes on. “There are three queens, three kings, and three mature princes. I will discount the shaggy horse and infant prince, who played a small role.

“The queens call the shots. The King of Erin does not control his situation. The kings of Spain are destroyed by the hero at his mother’s bidding. The hero goes to Tubber Tintye at the deceitful queen’s request. The Queen of Tubber Tintye sorted things out in the end, to the death of the two brothers and their mother. Most of the men are killed off.”

Thalia and Jini nod in agreement.

“But now, my dears,” Melissa smiles broadly, “I have gifts for you two from the nixie.”

The girls are all ears.

“Not because it is Saint Patrick’s Day, but rather because Ostara is upon us. The nixie wishes you to have these.”

Melissa hands each of them a small packet that appears to me to be made of oak leaves. The leaves crumble as the girls open them. Inside are pendants of highly delicate filigree in the shape of aspen leaves on chains of the same material in a loose braid.

Admiration shines from Thalia’s eyes. “What are they made of? Something between silver and gold.”

Jini’s eyes hold disbelief, but she speaks the truth. “Moonbeams.”

Your thoughts?

PS. Revisit https://chaztales.net/2024/07/28/fairy-tale-of-the-month-july-2024-the-girl-fish-part-one/

Hi all, this will be a short one. I have a writer’s conference coming up, in which I am involved with running. Write Stuff Writers Conference 2025

If you follow this blog, my fascination with fairy tales is well known to you. Part of my fascination is beyond the message of the tales but also into the origins of the tales. Ballads are one of the origins of some of the fairy tales. (Conversely, fairy tales are the origins of some of the ballads.)

Back in January, I blogged about the English and Scottish Popular Ballads and my project to ‘translate’ them into understandable English. I still think this is a worthy goal, but I have since discovered I am too late. There is a cadre of musicians who have accomplished this task. I knew some of the Child ballads had been resurrected by modern musicians, but I had not realized the extent. My attempts to update the ballads would be to reinvent the wheel. Others have done it better than I.

A word here about the term “ballad.” Back in the days of the 16^th and 17^th centuries, ballads were story poems. Most appeared as “broadsides,” a single printed sheet of paper for sale, containing the ballad verses. Tunes were later associated with the ballads but did not appear on the broadsides. That ballads are musical is a modern notion.

My discovery that I am too late comes with my tripping upon the site Mainly Norfolk: English Folk and Other Good Music. This is a massive collection of folk discography. It is well organized. I suggest you click on the Child Index link in the column on the left. There is a huge amount of information, often including the lyrics to the ballad as interpreted by the musician and YouTube videos of the song being performed.

This site is informative and entertaining. Check it out for yourself. I give you the example of The Elfin Knight / Scarborough Fair / Whittingham Fair / Rosemary Lane. Please take note of the YouTube video of Paul Simon singing Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme with Miss Piggy on The Muppet Show. Yup, that came out of the Child Ballads.

Alone Again

Loneliness is a sorry thing. One does not realize how comforting ambient noise can be until it is absent. No bustling about of another person. No distant voice talking on their cell.  No clattering coming from the kitchen. No Thalia.

It’s February, the month that Thalia traditionally goes with her mother to visit her ex-husband’s relatives. I cannot explain that, but it is of some comfort to me that Thalia has taken Jini along with her for company.

That does leave me alone in the middle of winter for a week. However, I discover that I am not the only lonely one.

“Read me a story.” Johannes, who I thought was asleep on the window seat, is now erect, his tail twitching in agitation.

“A story,” I say thoughtfully as it occurs to me that Thalia and Jini always lavished attention on Johannes, and he misses them as much as I do.

I reach for my copy of The Complete Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm translated and edited by Jack Zipes, turn to the table of contents, spiral my finger in the air, and let it come down on the page, the method by which I select the tale to be told (a
Thalia tradition).

My finger lands on The Three Little Birds. The story starts with the phrase, “More than a thousand years ago . . .”

A king, out hunting with two of his ministers, hears three maiden sisters calling to each other as they tend to their cows. Each declares they would like to marry one of the three men, the eldest sister choosing the king. Soon, it is arranged.

When the king has to take a trip, he asks the other two sisters to stay with his wife as she is about to have a child, a boy as it turns out, who is born with a bright red star as a birthmark. The two sisters, not having children, are jealous and throw the child into the river.

Up flies a little bird singing,

“Get ready for your death.

I’ll see what I can do.

Get ready for the wreath.

Brave boy, can that be you?”

When the king returns, the sisters tell him his wife gave birth to a dog.

 The exact same thing happens a second time, and on the third, the only difference is that the child is a girl, and the sisters claim the queen gave birth to a cat. The king then imprisons his wife.

However, each time the sisters cast the babies into the river to drown, they are rescued by a fisherman. He and his wife raise them as if they were their own.

Eventually, the eldest discovers they are all foundlings and sets off to find their father. A year later, the second brother sets off to find the first brother and, finally, the sister goes off to find them both.

She comes to a river where there is an old woman—as had her brothers. The woman carries her across the river—as she did the brothers—but because the sister is kind to her—although the brothers were not rude—she gives the sister more instruction.

The old woman gives the girl a stick and tells her to travel on and ignore the black dog along the way. At a castle, she must drop the stick on the threshold. On the other side of the castle, there will be a well and a tree. In the tree, there will be a bird in a cage. She must return with the caged bird, a glass of water from the well, and retrieve the stick on her way out. Meeting the black dog again, she shall strike it in the face with the stick and then return to the old woman.

This she does, meeting with her brothers along the way, and when she strikes the black dog in the face, he turns into a handsome prince. The old woman carries all of them back across the river and, therefore, is freed from a spell and disappears. The foursome returns to the fisherman’s hut, and there is much in the way of glad greetings.

The second brother, a bit restless, goes out hunting and then settles down to play his flute. The music attracts the king, also out hunting, and all end up in the fisherman’s hut, where the bird in the cage sings a song, which is the whole story about what has happened.

The truth now known, all return to the king’s castle, the queen is freed from prison and given the water from the well to restore her health, the two sisters are burnt, and the daughter marries the prince.

“Nice. Nice,” muses Johannes.

Fairy Tale of the Month: February 2025 The Three Little Birds – Part Two

Much Alike

“You know,” I say, “I’ve not read this story before, but I am sure I’ve read a variant.”

“You have read it a thousand times!” Johannes’s ears flatten a little. “It must be in the top ten most popular fairy-tale motifs.”

“Let me think on that a second,” I say.

Johannes does my thinking for me. “Straparola’s Ancilotto, King of Provino; One Thousand and One Nights’ The Sisters Envious of Their Cadette; Schönwerth’s The Talking Bird, the Singing Tree, and the Sparkling Stream; Wolf’s The Three Royal Children. Even stories like the Six Swans have that motif.”

“Wait,” I defend. “Six Swans? The heroine is not accused of birthing puppies and cats. She is accused of eating her children. And the culprit is her mother-in-law, not her sisters.”

“I speak of ‘The Calumniated Wife,’ or, in simpler terms, ‘The Slandered Wife.’ It comes in many forms.”

He’s got a point.

“And,” Johannes goes on, “I couldn’t help noticing Wilhelm started The Three Little Birds with the phrase, ‘More than a thousand years ago. . .’ He apparently felt this story to be very old.”

“A thousand years might be going back a little too far,” I consider. “You mentioned Straparola and, indirectly, Galland. Straparola is fifteenth century, and Galland’s translation of One Thousand and One Nights is seventeenth century. Although those stories were not Galland’s inventions and they go back far into time, I will guess they fall short of a thousand years.

“Johannes, refresh my memory. How similar are Straparola’s and Galland’s versions?”

“In both versions, the king hears or is informed of three maidens expressing their marriage wishes. The king grants their wishes, even though the girls are of no particular status, and he marries the youngest.

“In Galland’s version, the cruel sisters substitute puppies for the three children as they are born and cast them into the river in a cradle or basket where they are saved by the superintendent of the gardens, a high official.”

“A basket in the river?” I interrupt. “That sounds biblical. I may have to reconsider the ‘more-than-a-thousand years thing.’”

Johannes pushes on. “In Straparola the three children are born all at once, with golden chains on their necks and golden stars on their foreheads. The conspiracy against the queen is conducted by the mother-in-law, the two sisters, and a midwife. All three children are sealed in a box, cast into the river, and replaced by three whelps. Their rescuer is a common miller.

“In both cases, the queen suffers some sort of imprisonment, yet the three siblings end up living in a castle not far from the king, who is unknown to them as their father. Because of their special natures, the king takes notice of them, and the conspirators are alarmed.

“An old woman appears to the heroine; in Straparola’s case it is the midwife, who talks her into sending out her two brothers on the dangerous mission of finding three magical items. In Straparola it is the Dancing Water, the Singing Apple, and the Beautiful Green Bird. In Galland’s version, the tasks are to obtain the Golden Water, the Singing Tree, and the Talking Bird.

“In both cases the brothers fail, and the sister rescues them. When they show these prizes to the king, the bird reveals the whole story. The king and his children are reunited, the mother released from prison, and the evil women punished.”

Johannes must be feeling really lonely. He is talking my head off, and I don’t think he is done.

Fairy Tale of the Month: February 2025 The Three Little Birds – Part Three

My Thinking

“My thinking,” I say, “is that the Arabic version is the original even though Straparola’s version was published before Galland’s.

“Stories travel, you know, and this story traveled to Straparola’s ear, then he might have changed it to his liking for a literary audience, accounting for the changes between the two versions.

“I don’t think The Three Little Birds was drawn from Straparola. The three children being born at once is missing. The plot between the mother-in-law, the sisters, and the midwife is gone. The Three Little Birds is closer in detail to Galland’s translation.”

“Ah,” Johannes raises a paw. “But the three little spirit birds are missing from these other two versions, as well as the black dog. What have you to say about that?”

Johannes is trying to trap me.

“Indigenous additions from the local German culture,” I state.

“I believe,” Johannes asserts, “it is more complicated than that.”

“Go on,” I encourage. We have all the time in the world to argue.

“What this Grimm story has in common with the other versions is: One, there are three sisters. Two, one of the three marries the king while the other two marry men of lesser status. Three, the two sisters connive against their sibling. Four, there are two sons and a daughter born and abandoned. Five, the three children are rescued. Six, there are magical devices involved, which vary a little except for the talking bird. Seven, it is the talking bird that reveals all. Eight, the king is reunited with his children, and the culprits are put to death.”

“That is a lot in common,” I suggest, “indicating a common origin.”

“It is, but, as I have said, The Three Little Birds has its unique points. There are the spirit birds, after which the Grimms named the story. The stick and the black dog, not to mention the old woman who carries them over the river, appear nowhere else. These are all particular to the Grimms’ German version.”

“You are about to make a point, I am sure,” I say.

“Quite. Here is my suspicion. This tale traveled—as you suggest tales do—to Germany as it traveled to Italy and into Straparola’s awareness. Then, some storyteller heard it, perhaps as a youth, forgot about it, then ‘revisited’ it in a dream. The illiterate storytellers’ structure for their stories was dream construction. The spirit birds flying up as the children drown, the old woman carrying the cast of characters across the river, the stick lying across the threshold, and the black dog transforming when struck by the stick, are all dream-like forms.

“You humans are hardwired for story. It takes little for tellers separated by great distances to come up with the same story.”

“Hardwired for story,” I repeat. “I think you refer to the collective unconscious, but wait, how do you know about such things?”

“I have been around a long while. I considered Dortchen Wild my mistress when she married Wilhelm Grimm. I kept my ears open when the brothers talked. Later, I let Marie-Louise von Franz take care of me and made a few suggestions to her.”

“Really,’ I say. “Then I am flattered that you are a part of my household.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I am here to watch over Thalia.”

Well, I should have known, but I am uncomfortable being put in my place by a cat.

Your thoughts?

(This is a longer-than-usual post for me, but you will soon see why.)

I am sticking my toes into the choppy waters of AI. I know there is a riptide out there, but I promise not to wade out too far.

I, along with many others, feel it is irresponsible to have AI write a story for you and immoral if you claim it is your own creative work. But what about using AI as a writing assistant?

After listening to a podcast by John Tighe called Create Your AI Writing Bot! I created a style sheet for the book I am working on and brought up CHATGPT for a conversation that went exactly like this:

Me: I would like your critique of sections of a story by using the style sheet that I will provide.

Chat: That sounds great! Send over your style sheet, and I’ll use it to critique your story sections based on your specific guidelines. I’ll focus on areas like tone, characterization, pacing, language, and thematic consistency.

Me: Style Guide for Fantasy Novel

**1. Narrative Tone and Voice

Tone: The tone should be reflective and introspective, with a touch of grandeur appropriate for a fantasy setting. Use a formal and slightly archaic language style to evoke the sense of a grand, historical world.

Voice: The narrative voice should convey a deep connection with the characters’ internal struggles and the epic nature of their world. Maintain a balance between the characters’ personal dilemmas and the overarching plot.

**2. Characterization

Complexity: Characters should have multi-layered personalities, with inner conflicts and detailed backstories. Emphasize their internal thoughts and emotional states, especially in moments of introspection.

Dialogue: Use dialogue to reveal character traits and advance the plot. Characters should have distinct voices reflecting their backgrounds and personalities. Formal speech may be used for characters of higher status or ancient beings, while more casual or poetic language may suit other characters.

Internal Monologue: Characters’ thoughts should be woven into the narrative to provide insight into their motivations and conflicts. These should be reflective and may include philosophical musings or personal revelations.

**3. Setting and World-Building

Descriptive Language: Use rich, descriptive language to create vivid images of the setting. Include details that evoke the fantasy genre, such as magical elements, historical artifacts, and grandiose architecture.

Atmosphere: Convey the atmosphere through sensory details—how the setting feels, smells, and sounds. Use these to enhance the mood and immerse the reader in the world.

History and Lore: Incorporate elements of history and lore into the narrative. References to ancient events, magical artifacts, and historical figures should be integrated seamlessly into the plot.

**4. Plot Structure

Pacing: Balance action with moments of reflection and character development. Allow for slow, introspective scenes interspersed with more dynamic plot developments.

Foreshadowing: Use subtle hints and foreshadowing to build suspense and anticipation. Reveal key plot points gradually, allowing the reader to piece together the story.

Themes: Explore themes of destiny, power, and identity. Characters should grapple with their roles in the grand scheme of things and their personal quests.

**5. Magical Elements

Magic System: Define a clear and consistent magic system. Explain its rules and limitations subtly through the narrative and character interactions.

Magical Artifacts: Introduce magical artifacts with specific properties and significance. Ensure that their role in the plot is clear and impactful.

Magical Effects: Describe magical effects with precision, focusing on their impact on the world and characters. Use evocative language to capture the wonder and danger of magic.

**6. Language and Style

Formal and Poetic: Employ a formal and sometimes poetic language style, particularly in dialogue and narrative exposition. This should enhance the fantastical and epic quality of the story.

Imagery and Symbolism: Use vivid imagery and symbolism to deepen the narrative. Symbols should be consistent with the themes and add layers of meaning.

Dialogue Tags: Use minimal dialogue tags and let the dialogue itself convey the tone and emotion. Tags, when used, should be varied and fitting for the character’s voice.

**7. Additional Instructions

Do not change Flora’s dialog.

Avoid the “to be” verb, such as the word “was.”

In general, up the tension, particularly with Jonathan’s emotional state.

Increase Jonathan’s reactions.

Chat: Got it! Your style guide provides a clear and detailed framework. Send over a section of your story, and I’ll critique it based on these guidelines, offering suggestions for tone, characterization, pacing, language, and tension.

Me: Jonathan churned away on his hurdy-gurdy. The ungainly instrument lay sloping on his lap as these instruments do. The trompette and other drone strings buzzed as he keyed the melody with one hand and rotated the wheel with alternating rhythm with the other. Sounding as if it were a stringed bagpipe, magical notes poured forth.

Flora stood beside him, today smelling like roses, making up lyrics to the music he played as they went along. Jonathan knew they made a visually striking pair; he robed, hooded, seated, hunched over his hurdy-gurdy, while she stood straight and stately. Nonetheless, everyone in the market could see by her red hair, dark skin, and colorful dress that she had all the markings of a Traveller.

The audience came and went, of course, stopping to listen to a tune or two, throwing a coin into the cup tied to a stake in the ground, before going about their business of the day.

Playing music and listening to Flora sing were Jonathan’s delight, not to mention collecting a few coins to keep them alive. But he knew he could not settle down into the reverie of this simple life.

As evening drew near, he packed away his instrument, and he and Flora wandered back to their inn with the smells of the fishmonger, butcher, and spice dealer still hanging in the air as these merchants too packed up their wares.

“I trust you’re aware,” Jonathan spoke as he stopped to inspect some apples still being offered for purchase, “that I need to go about bringing Matilda and Geshmell back into the present.”

“Of course I do

And outside of you,

Who could begin

To do such a thing.”

Jonathan dug into his coin bag for a newly acquired silver to purchase two apples from the vendor lady, who eyed them suspiciously. He handed one of the apples to Flora. “You have more confidence in me than I do,” Jonathan smiled. “Might you, by chance, know any tricks to handle my problem?”

“Oh, I know tricks,

As plentiful as sticks,

But none that will solve

Your present resolve.”

“I thought not.” Jonathan fell silent, except for the crunching of his apple.

Chat: Here’s my critique based on your style guide:

Strengths:

Tone & Voice: The slightly archaic and formal tone fits well. The introspective nature of Jonathan’s thoughts aligns with the reflective style you’re aiming for.

Characterization: Jonathan’s contrast with Flora is strong, both visually and in demeanor. His underlying tension about Matilda and Geshmell adds depth. Flora’s rhyming speech remains distinct, as per your guidelines.

Setting & Atmosphere: The marketplace feels immersive with the descriptions of sights and smells, especially at the end when the lingering scents transition into the evening.

Foreshadowing & Themes: The mention of Matilda and Geshmell hints at the greater quest without being too direct, which keeps the tension simmering.

Areas for Improvement:

Jonathan’s Emotional State:

He acknowledges his greater mission, but his internal struggle could be more visceral. Rather than simply stating, “But he knew he could not settle down into the reverie of this simple life,” consider showing a more immediate emotional reaction—perhaps a fleeting moment of longing before he steels himself.

His hesitation about his abilities (“You have more confidence in me than I do”) could be expanded with physical cues—does he tighten his grip on the apple? Does his stomach twist at the thought?

Pacing & Tension:

The transition from playing music to discussing Matilda and Geshmell feels abrupt. Consider adding a beat where Jonathan watches the crowd disperse or catches an expression on Flora’s face that prompts his shift in thought.

The last exchange with Flora is light but could carry more weight. If Jonathan truly doubts himself, perhaps he lingers on her answer or tries to push for more help, betraying his unease.

Use of Stronger Verbs:

You’ve done well avoiding “to be” verbs, but a few places could still be more dynamic:

“The ungainly instrument lay sloping on his lap” → “The ungainly instrument slumped across his lap.”

“Flora stood beside him, today smelling like roses” → “Flora stood beside him, the scent of roses clinging to her today.”

Would you like a rewritten passage that integrates these suggestions?

That last question is, of course, the one you want to ignore. Frankly, Chat is a pretty lousy writer.

Note: in my first exchange with Chat, I used the word “critique.” If I used the word “analysis’’ instead, Chat might come up with something a bit different. With AI, it is all about how you ask the question. Also, AI will never get bored with you. Ask away.

I am taking a short respite from working on my next novel—a sequel to another novel I have not talked about in this blog—to pursue yet another project. (I think I write to entertain myself.)

This endeavor is to “translate” some of The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, by Francis James Child, commonly known as the Child Ballads. The problem with this contraction is that it is misleading. Do not expose young children to these ballads! They are comparable to Game of Thrones. Every murder ballad you have ever heard shares common ground with this collection. Well, at least from the first two volumes of this five-volume work. I am only near the end of the second volume, but I feel the tone of the ballads is getting lighter.

Incidentally, this ballad collection is poetic, not musical. Many of the ballads have been set to music, but Child did not concern himself with melodies.

Next, you might ask, why would I translate something written in English into English? It is the Scottish side of the equation that is the problem. The ballads are in 17^th/18^th century Scottish dialect, which is a barrier to understanding and appreciating them by modern audiences. Words like “mickle,” “aboon,” and “bree” abound.

The practice I follow is what I think of as a creative puzzle. The challenge is to take verses written in dialect, make them understandable, and yet retain the feel and rhyme of the ballads.

So far, I have exercised my method on two of them, two in which—surprise, surprise—no one dies. One is Tam Lin, which I did specifically for Halloween, and the other is King John and the Bishop. 

Tam Lin is probably the best known of the Child Ballads, and I will use some of its verses to explain what it is that I am doing.

Janet has kilted her green kirtle

A little aboon her knee,

And she has broded her yellow hair

A little aboon her bree,

And she’s awa to Carterhaugh,

As fast as she can hie.

Every phrase introduces a little challenge.

           Fortunately, I stumbled across a dictionary for Scottish dialect, which helped me in half the cases, not all.

“Kilted” is to tuck up one’s skirt.

“Kirtle” is a dress.

“Aboon” is above.

“broded” I did not find in the dictionary, but will assume from the context it means “braided.” “Braid” in Scottish dialect means “broad.”

“Bree” is eyebrow.

“Awa” is away.

“Hie” is hasten.

Originally, I jumped to the conclusion that “Carterhaugh” would be Carter Hall. It is not. It is Carter Wood. The word “haugh” can also imply a stream with low banks.

In the rhyming scheme, it is the second, fourth, and sixth lines that are paired. However, “bree” and “hie” are words we no longer recognize.

My solutions to these problems are below.

Janet has tucked her forest green skirt

A little above her knee,

And has braided her bright yellow hair,

In hope of Tam Lin to see.

And she’s away to Carterhaugh

As fast as she can flee.

Obviously, I have taken some liberties, but I think I have not modernized it, and it retains the sense of the original.