• Marilyn Gardner Woods

Once upon a time...

There is a strong possibility it will never come to life.

I have big-time doubts.

It has completed the embryonic stages. And is out of my hands.

At five o’clock on a grey coolish first day of May, I attached the manuscript and sent it off to the developmental editor.



In my short message to her, I wrote:

"I send this because I have to stop working on it. There are some parts I like very much and some that give me both heartburn and heartache."


For six months, I have labored over A Pandemic Fairytale, (working title) which could turn out to be the second book of mine to be published. It might also languish in a word file folder on my computer forever.


Whether or not it advances beyond first draft status, I did it again. I completed a manuscript.

This time part fact, part fiction. A lot of fantasy.

A manuscript that began with a bit of magic.

A manuscript that provided diversion and a goal for me during these long months of the pandemic.


It begins:

A long time ago—and yet perhaps it wasn't such a very long time ago—there lived a damsel…



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