Honouring Our Stories: One Year With Pixie and the Fox
I am not a children’s book author. I mean, I am, but I’m not.
I never set out to be that and it still surprises me whenever someone introduces me as such.
Pixie and the Fox turns one year old today. The published version. The real first draft on paper story is closer to 8 years old.
Let’s be clear:
I did not write Pixie and the Fox (or Pixie and the Bees for that matter) for children.
I did not write them so that women could feel seen in their experience of intimate partner abuse or anxious beings could feel witnessed in their overwhelmed bodies.
I didn’t write them so that school boards and counselling offices could use them when offering an opening for conversation.
I wrote them for me.
I wrote Pixie and the Fox in one day. I was attending a memoir writing workshop at Haliburton School of Art and Design. We’d been given 6 hours to go write a story about our lives. I took my notebook down to the water. In a previous course, I’d been introduced to the idea of using fairy tales as a way to write a memoir. And so I did just that.
It was a safe way to share a very painful part of my life.
I remember how good it felt to put it down on paper. To let the story take up some space in the physical world. To acknowledge its truth.
I remember reading it out loud in front of the class. My voice wavered through it all and when I finally looked up at the end, I saw a room filled with tears.
Back home, I tucked that notebook away and went on with my life.
Two years later on my back deck, I wrote Pixie and the Bees–a story about living with an anxiety disorder. The following year, I published it. And I spent another two years marketing that story.
The whole time, Pixie and the Fox remained buried in a pile of notebooks in my overstuffed closet.
One day, I decided it was time. I pulled out the notebook, reread the story, and nodded to myself.
There were revisions and more revisions. Brooklin once again, used her paintbrushes as wands to bring the story to life. And I read the published book copy of Pixie and the Fox on May 10, 2024 at Take Cover Books in Peterborough, Ontario to a room of beautiful friends and family.
“Why don’t you chew on this moss? That way you won’t be so loud.”
“Pixie I am only trying to help you.”
“Come on Pixie. I need you. We can do this.”
Since then, there’s been more marketing and conversations.
Despite not feeling like a children’s book author, one of my favourite things to do is talk to kids about the stories. I love to hear them react and offer their own stories in response. We have discussions about feeling really sad and worried and lonely. We share strategies and comfort and encouragement.
Despite not having written the story for other women who had experienced a fox of their own, I did publish it with them in mind. I wanted them to know that they were not alone and that they too deserve to shine. I feel honoured to have been trusted with stories from others.
My Pixie stories have shown me the real point of publishing books. It’s not to become rich and famous (although I wouldn’t say no to that); it’s to offer a space for others to reflect with their own stories.
I write them for me. I publish them for others.
And so today, on the first birthday of Pixie and the Fox, I invite you to reflect on your own stories. Which ones deserve to take up space in the physical world, if only just for you? Which ones should be honoured as truth.
Erica
PS.
I am currently writing another version of my stories. One that does not (always) use fictional characters. One that gives more of myself. One that feels more honest than anything else I’ve ever written in my entire life. Yelling at Dead People will be completed by the end of 2025. Stay tuned.
To book me for a speaking event or workshop, please reach out!
I am hosting a free workshop on July 3rd at Take Cover Books in Peterborough about memoir writing through a fairy tale lens.
