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The Story Behind the Story
“The Farmer’s Boy and The Southern Princess”
originally saw light as a Christmas gift to my wife. Years ago my
family instituted a “homemade gift policy” as a way to fight how
exorbitant our Christmases had become. Essentially, we replaced big
spending with big stress and lots of last minute sewing, cooking,
and leatherworking. Yes, leatherworking. We’re that handy. At
least, the rest of my family is. With no craft skills beyond the
ability to cook a delicious cream of tomato soup (Merry Christmas!
Here’s some soup!) I resolved to use the one skill which I did have,
writing.
My wife Victoria is from Uruguay. That’s
practically as southern as you can get without hitting ice, and the
name of the story popped into my head early on. Anyone who’s laid
eyes on her wouldn’t argue with the princess part of it, either.
She’s, simply put, dazzlingly beautiful, and carries herself with
the kind of grace that is normally reserved for royalty. I’m from
Texas and the Midwest, and while I’m no farmer, it often feels like
I’m staring into the light of the sun when I look at her, which is
as often as I can. It is humbling, wonderfully so, and I thought
the initially cow-eyed character of the farmer’s boy captured this
emotion well. The rich/poor, royal/common dichotomy is a common
one in fairie tales, and I sought to evoke that mood as well. The
title stuck, and all that was lacking was a story to carry it.
The first draft of the story came quickly. I
think I finished the story Victoria would read on Christmas morning
in only one or two days. That’s remarkably fast for me. I knew I
wanted the story to be about warmth, and innocence, and sacrifice,
all themes I associate with my wife. I also knew that I wanted
their love to be legendary, a trait which could easily move into the
trite if it wasn’t handled carefully. I thought some narrative
distance might help with this, and thus was born the character of
the Grandfather telling his grandson about this epic love story from
long ago.
Nothing’s free in this world, or any other I
presume, and so like any great love, the Farmer’s Boy had to work
for it. His perseverance and certainty as he waits for the Princess
each year might possibly have a real-world analog in my own courting
of Victoria, but you didn’t hear it here. When it came time to
publish, I recognized that the story lacked an antagonist against
which the lovers could unite. The Astronomer walked onto the page
one morning as I struggled with this problem and dared me to write
him out of the story. I could not. He was too much fun to write,
and I had to admit that his heart was in the right place.
I’m proud of this story, and I hope you enjoy
it. Ultimately though, this is the one story I’ve written where
your reaction, gentle reader, means the least to me. This was
my gift to the woman I love. A gift that, I hope, was fit for a
princess, and a love that, I know, is legendary.
C. Mitchell O’Neal
Winter
2007 - Ann Arbor
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