I know in the proper vernacular fairy tale is two words. A fairy tale. A fairy that tells tales. Tales as told by fairies. And so on.
But for me it can only be one word. Fairytale. The singular word embodies more than a story. It’s an entire fantastical life. It breathes a happily ever after. It’s the grown version of fairy tale. No longer a child’s dream and a frog prince, now it’s strong men and stronger women working toward the same happily ever after.
It’s more than a glass slipper and singing birds.
It’s a romantic interlude. A softly spoken declaration. An overindulgence of love.
It’s a romance.
It’s a dance. A kiss. A throbbing pulse. A reason to breathe.
It’s true in the moment and a healthy distraction.
It’s the best of fiction and non-fiction combined.
(Believe it or not, these lovely gowns are actually gowns! NightGowns. Or NightRails to be more precise)
It’s word play and roll play. Farce and fantasy. And sometimes in the best of times, it’s a true love story.
It’s why I write romance and why I read romance. Because I believe in the Happily Ever After.