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.
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.