Escape reality, embrace the fallacy

Naturally I’m a cynic. The world is a dark, cruel place and anyone who hasn’t realized that has their head in the sand.

I’ve gotten through my miserable life by writing stories of fairy

tales. I write these stories to escape the truth of what life really is. It is how I’ve made my living, and I’ve been told that my stories are a true inspiration for so many. It’s made them believe in the power of friendship and the validity of true love. But they don’t realize that it’s all a lie. It’s nothing but a fable, a way to enter a different world to leave our own. 

I started working on fairy tales as a teenager originally. I was

an outsider in high school. One of those broody types who is convinced that no one understands them. I’m sure I was wrong, I’m sure there were some people that could understand certain parts of me, but I figured it wasn’t worth the effort to find them. People were constant disappointments. I had learned this from a

young age directly from my parents. Promises to take trips, to spend time as a family, to stay together and work on their marriage. All fallacies. As I grew up I determined that every promise they made was a lie, so my expectations became lower and lower. I watched my mother move on from my father so quickly

it was like she never cared that he had been around in the first place. A constant revolving door of men entered her life and mine. Some of them trying to create a bond with me, and other’s avoiding any type of contact. 

When I was a young child I was less of an outsider, I had one

friend who also dealt with divorce, Alana. Somehow her parents still got along, she would get multiple gifts on holidays, nobody would forget her birthday, and when there were hard times, she had her sisters to lean on. I’m an only child, so I never had that additional support at home. Another reason I think I became an outsider, nobody saw the true ins and outs of my home life. 

Anyways, to get back to it, I started writing fairy tales as a

teenager. I began my stories by basing them off of what I believed the lives of others around me must be like. Watching the other girls walk the halls, stupid in love with their football playing boyfriends. Watching the boys buy carnations every year for the girls they liked, holding their books for them in the hallways and opening doors. They all had started living the fairy tale life already, at such a young age. I could practically see the tiaras on their heads when I imagined how cushy their home lives must be as well. Supportive families who asked them how they were doing, dinners as a family at a table every night, new clothes every school year. And if anything ever went wrong, it was always fixed for them. I would trudge down the hallway and watch these kids in wonder,

pulling at my pants that had turned into “high waters” because I had my third growth burst and we couldn’t afford to keep buying new jeans. I had none of their experiences, and I knew I never would.

The one thing I was always able to have was a pen and paper. So to

avoid listening to my mom cry on the phone about her newest boyfriend or about how my dad was spending all his money on his new family instead of us, I would put on headphones and write about what their lives must be like. As I got older these stories evolved. They turned into true princes and princesses. They were trapped in towers, they ran away together, their families always accepted them, there was never not a happily ever after. Nobody had an unstable home and good always triumphed over evil. 

I think a part of me hoped that if I kept writing these stories I

would find a way to triumph the evil in my own life. If I went through enough scenarios, I might find something that would work for me and my family. But every time I tried to inject the fantasy into reality, I was just disappointed again. I took this as my final sign to give up and keep optimism in the form of pen to paper.

I left my dreary (dreary to me at least) home town as soon as I

could and went away to college for creative writing. My stories that I had already created throughout my teenage years earned me a scholarship and I was able to travel far away from home. I got a part time job so that I could pay for rent the entire four years and only go home when it was absolutely necessary. Neither one of my parents really minded, my mother was still distracted by each new man she was trying to create her own fairy tale with. My father had his own kids to coach through soccer and get off to school every day. He would occasionally send me some cash and ask to meet for lunch once a summer, probably just to make himself feel better and convince himself that he hadn’t completely abandoned the first child that he put on this earth. I always accepted to keep the peace, answered his occasional questions and moved on. I ignored my mother’s phone calls most of the time, she just wanted to talk, but I was done listening.

I forged a bond with one of my creative writing professors in

college, Professor Abila. She’s a small Spanish woman who always showed nothing but support for my stories, critique when necessary, and never prodded too much about my personal life or my inspiration. She asked the right questions and gave me the right amount of space. This allowed me to become close with her. She never set me up for disappointment, only reality.

It was because of Professor Abila that my first fairy tale got

published. It happened my senior year of undergraduate. She told me that I had been working on it for a long time and it was worth putting out there for the world to see. She said there was no promise of success, and I appreciated that. She kept my expectations acceptable and it came as a pleasurable surprise when it did become a success.

She worked with me to edit all of my works and find a

literary agent. I remain in touch with her to this day. She’s the reason the name “Elsa VonWonder” is a household name these days. She helped me develop this pseudonym so that I would never have to deal with the direct impact of being well known.  She reads all my stories to this day before they even go to my agent and provides all the realistic critique that I need. 

I like to be able to remain in my solitary world of disappointing

reality and enter the realm of fairy tales for an escape. But there is no truth in those, and I saw the reaction my readers had. They also went to these stories for an escape, but then they would dress up as the characters. They would convince themselves they could live their lives. I knew it wasn’t true and I couldn’t bear to be the one who revealed that truth.

So I hid behind the name, never agreed to public readings (someone

else could do it) and changed not much else. Now I live alone with my cat Buster in an apartment in New York City. I found a small group of friends who are also writers and appreciate their solidarity. We get together once in a while, but for the most part we know to leave each other alone. I choose not to get too close with them for obvious reasons. I didn’t even tell them a few months ago when I got approached with a movie deal for my first big fairy tale hit “The Missing Queen in the Forest of Dreams”. I only told Professor Abila.

As soon as I called her I started complaining that people wanted

to bring it to life even more, create something even more tangible for everyone to believe in. They wanted to continue to spread these lies. Didn’t people see things as more plausible when they were on screen? They aren’t. It’s just a story, and I want them to believe that.

My professor responded with “its good money, and you should be

proud. Let them do it, they’ll let you have your say.”

So I’m doing it. Today I have to go to the movie set and meet with

the actress that they have selected to play the queen. Her name is Rebecca Lawry. She’s stunningly gorgeous of course, and apparently is a huge fan of the book.

I arrive at the studio, show my credentials and they let me in.

I’m shown to Rebecca’s dressing room, we shake hands and I sit down on the cushy couch across from her perched on her makeup chair.

“It’s wonderful to meet you Elsa!” She says. I scoff internally,

if only she knew, even my name is a fake.

“I’ve always been such a huge fan of this fairy tale, it really

showed me as a kid that I can chase my dreams. It’s worth it! The queen accomplished all her dreams at the end, even though the evil witch tried to burn down her forest. It was amazing! It gave me so much hope for the future and I think it was a big part of the reason I became an actress.”

I was stunned. I knew people put a little too much stock into

these stories, but I never imagined I would hear someone say they owe their career to it. 

“Oh” I started, unsure “Well, thank you. I’m glad to hear you are

such a fan.”

“Of course!” She replied with a huge smile on her face “and I’m so

glad to meet with you today, because although I have my interpretation of the queen, I’d like to hear yours! I want to make sure I’m doing the character justice on screen. I want to make sure she is everything you always imagined her to be.”

I took a deep breath. How would I be able to explain to Rebecca

that I always believed the queen could never exist? That she could only ever be a part of a fake, unattainable world?

“Well…the queen has dreams beyond measure. I always imagined her as a woman who was able to take charge of her life and believe in change. But she couldn’t believe in it fully until the forest showed her the way. She’s a woman who lives this truth that is unattainable in our world. It’s something that a normal person in real life could never have.”

I see Rebecca’s brow begin to furrow. 

“You see, she experiences only good things. She sees only good

things. That’s why she gets her dreams, that’s why she can defeat evil, it’s a fantasy. A fantasy where only good things can happen.” I feel myself trailing off and pull myself back to explaining the character “So, yeah, she’s a happy, optimistic, crazy woman. She always has a smile and is never able to see the bad, only the good.”

Rebecca had a complete frown on her face now. I could see her

hesitate before she began to speak.

“Forgive me, but that’s not what I got from her at all when I read

the story.”

“Really?” What could this woman have possibly gotten other than

what I had just explained?

“Yes! I think the queen sees the bad, she understands it, but she

doesn’t let it get her down. She doesn’t allow herself to believe that only bad things will come. She works hard to achieve her dreams and finds new avenues. She’s innovative and strong. The way you describe her makes her sound ignorant – I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect!”

“No, no, you’re fine!” I was intrigued now “Please go on!”

“Okay…well, I just think while it is a fairy tale, there is still

a strong message of reality. A strong message to overcome things that are hard and pick yourself up because there is more to live for than the bad. The way the queen shows that is inspiring. That’s why I’m so honored to be playing her.”

I was entranced. I had never thought of my stories that way. They

were lies, lies that I wrote to create a world that didn’t exist. That couldn’t exist. And now I was hearing my lies, the words I wrote myself, were actually part of a bigger truth that I had been refusing to see for so long. I had been ignoring the realities of my life because I decided it was easier than being strong. It was easier than overcoming them to find the bright behind the dark. 

I could feel my eyes welling up with tears.

“Oh gosh, I’ve upset you! I’m so sorry. Are you alright??”

“Oh no, really I’m okay!” I respond quickly while wiping my face

with the backs of my hands. “You haven’t upset me. You’ve just given me a new perspective, and I’m very grateful.”

Rebecca smiled, “I’m so glad!”

“So am I. And I think you are going to play this character perfectly, Rebecca. You know the queen better than I do. I can’t wait to watch you bring her to life. Thank you.”

By the end of our meeting we were both in tears, and I felt like I

had a new lease on life. I was moving forward with a brand new perspective on my experiences and all that I had been through. I told Rebecca my real name, Alison Lippett. I told her I was going to start doing public readings. I wanted to meet my fans. I wanted to hear more stories like hers, and I wanted to change the perspective of more cynics, like she had done for me.

I walked out of the studio feeling refreshed, and pulled out my

cell phone. There were plenty of changes I needed to make, but I had to make this one first. I put the phone up to my ear and listened to it ring, and then she answered.

“Oh my gosh, Ali, honey!” She was elated.

“Hi mom” I smiled, I could feel the first change going my way

already.