Hello lovely people,

A month has flown by since I last wrote to you, so I thought I’d squeeze in another update before the end of the year.

Mostly, I’ve been working on the short stories I mentioned in my last letter. I’ve written a few more, and received feedback on the first batch from my editor, too.

I think what is wonderful – and challenging – about editorial feedback, is that it makes you question and interrogate your work, sometimes in unexpected ways.

The feedback I received this time has made me think a great deal about the level of darkness and trauma in fairy tales told specifically for children, how that darkness and trauma is expressed, and how obviously symbols and metaphors point to real world situations. These are all such important considerations, especially when taking into account the wide age range of readers I write for, and their vast diversity of experiences and needs. 

I believe fairy tales are a powerful tool for exploring difficult experiences and emotions in a safe space. But too much darkness, or metaphors that point too obviously to traumatic real-world situations, could potentially be harmful to some young readers, exposing them to upsetting scenarios they might struggle to process.

Writing for children, I feel, is inextricably linked to caring for children. In both roles, there is a responsibility to protect children from harm, yet also speak to them honestly, and hopefully help them gain knowledge and skills that will enable them to survive and thrive in the real world. It’s a tricky balance to strike, and certainly one worth giving careful thought.

I think one solution, in the world of fairy tales at least, lies in finding really good metaphors and symbols – ones that are loose enough to be interpreted in a variety of ways, to suit different needs; yet powerful enough to help readers see and understand their world in fresh and useful ways.

A book I’ve found helpful while pondering all this, is Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Women Writers Explore their Favourite Fairy Tales, edited by Kate Bernheimer. It contains essays by an amazing selection of women writers; including bell hooks, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Terri Windling. Many of the essays contain moving descriptions of how the writers, when they were young, found themselves in fairy tales; saw difficult situations they were struggling with reflected in metaphors, and found comfort and new ways of coping. I was especially moved by Terri Windling’s brilliant and poignant essay, Transformations, an extract from which is below:

“I hungered for a narrative with which to make sense of my life, but in schoolbooks and on television all I could find was the sugar water of Dick and Jane, Leave it to the Beaver and the happy, wholesome Brady Bunch. Mine was not a Brady Bunch family; it was troubled, fractured, persistently violent, and I needed the stronger meat of wolves and witches, poisons and perils. In fairy tales, I had found a mirror held up to the world I knew – where adults were dangerous creatures, and Good and Evil were not abstract concepts.”

And this, on why Terri writes, I loved:

“My past is like a patch of nettles, the memories burn as I pluck them up… and crush them… and spin them… and weave them into coats made of words and paint. My own brothers are grown now, but there are others out there still caught beneath their donkeyskins and swan feathers. And so I continue to spin, and weave, and toss those coats made of words into the air – hoping that someday, somewhere, they will set somebody free.”

There is a companion collection to Mirror, Mirror… called Brothers & Beasts, also edited by Kate Bernheimer, in which male writers talk about their relationship to fairy tales. I haven’t explored this one yet, but am looking forward to reading soon.

Moonlighting from my short stories, I’ve also been working on something completely different, and entirely speculative in that I have no idea if it will ever be published, which is a strange feeling after so many years under contract. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, I think it’s quite exciting. I’ll perhaps talk about this in my next letter though, as this letter has already got quite long!

I will say though that I’ve been reading lots of brilliant non-fiction books as part of this project, and I’d love to recommend a truly fascinating one (for grown-ups) Eve: How the Female Body Drove 200 Million Years of Human Evolution by Cat Bohannon, who has, somewhat magically I think, made a 624 page scientific non-fiction book, hugely entertaining, immensely readable, and deeply nourishing. The use of storytelling in this, I think, is wonderful, and really brings all the ideas to life. 

I’ve been pondering what other books to recommend in this letter. It’s the season of Best of the Year and Gift Guide lists after all, but there are so many of these lists around already, and I always think of book buying for others as such a personal thing.

I have purchased a few copies of A Swallow in Winter, A Christmas Miracle, written by Timothée de Fombelle, illustrated by Thomas Campi, and translated by Sarah Ardizzone, to gift. It’s a small, short (64 page), highly illustrated, stocking-filler of a book, aimed at 7+, but one I think adults will especially relate to, and find touching.

The main characters are a swallow, a lonely delivery driver, and an asylum seeker, who, one Christmas night, all save each other in different ways.

As far as gifts though, I’ve also been inspired by the letter my fifteen-year-old wrote to Santa (pretty sure he still does this to humour and delight me). As always, he included a moving request for Santa to give to others who need more than he does, and this year he specifically asked for:

“...the majority of resources which you so generously spare me to instead by diverted to the long-suffering youth of Palestine, whose unforgivable situation as of this time must surely be alleviated by any means that all more fortunate souls possess.”

I had a word with Santa of course, who agreed to donate to Medical Aid for Palestinians on behalf of my son, and the website allows a rather nice tribute letter to be created for such a donation, that can be printed and popped in a card (click ‘dedicate this donation’ on the donation page, and they will e-mail you shortly afterwards with another link to do this). So, if I were to recommend any gift this year, I think that would be it.

On that note, I shall sign off. I wish you all a wonderful festive season, and look forward to writing to you again in the new year!

With warmest wishes, Sophie x

P.S. In response to the CLPE Reflecting Realities Report, I’m offering a free six-month mentorship opportunity for a racially minoritised children’s writer in the UK. You’ll find details on my socials, and I’d hugely appreciate some shares, so the news reaches as many writers who might be interested as possible. Thank you!

P.P.S. If you’ve read this far, as a small thank you, send me a message, with your favourite book of the year, or just a hello, and I’ll pop names in a hat and send someone a copy of A Swallow in Winter.