What's wrong with Happily Ever After?

For the seventh time, Max ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't stop feeling weird, unnatural, different. The makeup crew had definitely over-gelled his hair, and there was some ridiculous powder on his face that perpetually flecked onto his vest. He reminded himself that this was the final interview before they let the books sell themselves.

"Coffee, sir?" Shannon, the weirdly attractive woman who had been harassing him all day, appeared at his side, offering yet another coffee.

Max took it automatically and drank it, forcing a smile. Despite talking with her over the phone and spending practically the whole day with her, he still had no idea what the hell her job actually was. In one of his stories, she would be some deceptive, multi-talented, Swiss Army knife henchman. Henchwoman. Max frowned thoughtfully, wondering whether she would be a worthy foe for his equally adaptable, entrepreneurial Prince Enrique.

He took a few gulps of the coffee before he remembered that he had privately forbidden himself from drinking any more caffeine. Goddamn it, he had to go on stage in like, five minutes, and he'd be jiggling his leg like some demented toddler, trying not to piss.

Max awkwardly held it away from him, and in a whoosh, some magical backstage crew member snatched it out of his hands, no questions asked. Some random person dabbed sweat off his forehead, and Max resisted the urge to recoil and melt into nothingness just as his depressed Wicked Witch did in the bath.

Before he could inquire about the toilets, somebody herded him towards the stage, clipped on a mic, and all but shoved him out the curtain.

The spotlight seared down onto him, and Max blinked, temporarily blinded. Then the audience, composed of parents, tweens, and teens, began hollering, and Max awkwardly shuffled towards the grinning hostess.

Damn, her teeth were whiter than his vampire version of Snow White. They did a cringe-worthy fail at some hug-handshake fusion, and then Max gratefully took a seat, already wishing this was over. He wished he could steal some of the confidence and wittiness he imbued into his characters.

"Tonight's special guest is Max Cruz, critically acclaimed writer or some would say, rewriter of popular fairytales! Welcome to the show Max, it's lovely to have you," Lauren settled herself at the edge of her desk, crossing one leg elegantly over the other.

Max smiled back, hoping it didn't come off as sarcastic. "Thanks, Lauren. It's a pleasure to be here."

"So Max, let's get right into it. Why do you edit popular kids' books? Why not write your own stories?"

Max took a deep breath, which he hoped wasn't as loud over the stupid mike. "All of us grow up reading these stories, hearing allusions to them, and they shape a massive part of who we are. I used to write stories set in my own universe-"

"But they weren't as popular?" Lauren interrupted, shooting him a sly side glance and laughing.

Max smiled, imagining her as a witch interrogator, holding him captive to find the source of his powers. "Yes, and I realized that fairytales end up shaping a lot of people's view of the world. I wanted to change the stories to include people more like me. People of colour, better roles for women and little girls, more interesting stories with more moral complexity." There was a smattering of applause.

"Of course, that's so important, isn't it guys?" Lauren asked the audience, inciting more cheers. "Don't you worry that these books might be...difficult for children and young readers?"

"I think people underestimate how smart kids are-" Somebody yelled appreciatively in the crowd, and Max chuckled, "-and I write mostly for middle schoolers and teens anyways. I just thought there was so much potential in those stories for action, comedy. More than the typical damsel in distress, and the nameless, faceless Prince Charming, and rags to riches stories."

"That's a little cynical, isn't it? And what's wrong with happily ever after?" Lauren asked, leaning in close. Max reminded himself that this was her job; she probably didn't know anything about his actual books.

Max tried to stall for time to think. "Well-"

"I mean, isn't that what everyone wants? To be happy at the end? To find true love?"

"Okay, thanks, Lauren. Happiness at the end of what? There is no happily ever after, in life, there's always the next challenge and the next. I want my stories to show happiness during the challenges, I want to show some character growth, give some of these princes a background, make them better role models for young boys. I also hated the whole damsel in distress thing. When I was a boy I liked and respected girls who played on the playground, and knew how to have fun, and who were smart on their own. I think people are tired of reading stories where they don't see themselves."

Max couldn't stop himself from blurting the sarcastic question: "Also, true love? In all of two days of knowing, or two minutes of staring at someone's face?" 

"I don't know, it only took two dates for my Prince Charming and me, to fall in love." Lauren giggled, and Max wondered what on earth they were possibly paying her to remain constantly polite. 

Max forced himself to keep a level, conversational tone. He hated these stupid interviews and wished his overactive publisher would get pricked by an assassin's needle. "Okay, these stories are full of life lessons. In the 21st century, telling little girls that they need to wait for a man to free them, or telling young boys that it's okay to randomly kiss sleeping girls, or that it's their job in life to find pretty girls that need saving, is so boring, and not that educational. I mean, Lauren, you're a self-made woman, you didn't wait for some man's kiss to turn your life around." People cheered in the crowd again, and that prompted a genuine smile from Max.

Yes, finally! The people he actually came to talk to. It was a struggle to remember that Lauren wasn't the target audience here. It was kids like him, people like him. People who needed to believe in magic again, and were okay with the princesses realizing they were in love, or the Prince working with the mermaid to explore the seas more.

"I understand that, but how are your stories educational in the real world if they have vampires and magical creatures?" Lauren asked her first detailed question, and Max quickly continued, now fully focussing on the crowd.

"Okay, that's a metaphor for toxic relationships. Snow White literally sucks the life out of people, she's wicked, evil, murderous. The little mermaid in my story and the Prince represents racial divisions, and how people slowly get to know each other. And no, it doesn't have a fully happy ending, and that's because I wanted to show growth, again, and the hard work it takes to reach understanding." These were obvious ideas in his book series, but Max relished the opportunity to share them anyways.

"Yeah, I rewrite stories, make metaphors out of them, and some people don't like that. Some people tell me I'm confusing their kids by including LGBTQ characters, or that I should create entirely new stories if I want to include and showcase people of colour, like Prince Enrique. I'm not even going to bother addressing how wrong that first criticism is, but as for the second. There's nothing new under the sun, and those fairytales are the source material for so many things written, and felt, and thought about today. Those old stories are going to still exist, but I want there to be more diversity, more voice, more modern-day values in them too."

"Those are some lovely words, and thank you! Everyone, we'll be back after the break!" Lauren shook his hand and grinned down at the crowd.

Max grinned a little tiredly, chugging down his hopefully unpoisoned glass of water. He'd forgotten all of the talking points his publisher expressly told him to bring up, and instead decided to expose the depth of his love for characters he had created ever since he was a child. Characters that were pieces of him that met his world every day and took it on.

Max excused himself to quickly race to the bathroom, grinning despite his uncomfortably warm face, and forgotten taking points.

This might just be the best interview he'd given, the challenge he'd enjoyed the most, one happy moment before the next challenge to come.

Not quite happily ever after, but a slowly growing collection of happy days, happy hours, happy moments.