The thing that’s really standing out to me tonight, though, is the number of “Dear Ms. Andersen”, “Dear Ms. Anderson”, and “Dear Mr. Anderson” queries I’m getting. It’s starting to do my head in, so I’m going to set a couple of things straight.

[1] I’m a girl. It’s okay if you didn’t know this–it happens to me a lot. And, growing up, I was a tomboy. And I still climb trees. So no big deal.

See? I really am a girl, even if my hair is about to get quite a bit shorter soon...

[2] It’s “Andersen”. Blame my husband, Joe. His father’s family is Danish, and they spell everything funny.

[3] Please, people, don’t feel obligated to put in a title, or my whole name. It makes me feel all kinds of posh, and as if I have to write back in very careful, very formal English. Honestly, “Peta” is just fine. And, since lots or people ask, you can pronounce it either way–Pea-ta (like the organisation) or Pet-ah. My family calls my both, so you can, too. Assuming you want to call me, that is.

Now, back to queries. By the way, January is going to be a dark winter issue, a mixture of creepy, hide under the bed stories, and curl up with a good cup of hot chocolate ones…

Les Bonnes Fees, September 2008

The September issue of Les Bonnes Fees is now online–so settle down with a cup of hot chocolate, something to eat, a box of tissues, and get reading!

In the meantime, have a look at our new autumn site template, here, and let us know what you think. The illustration is an Ivan Bilbin, from The Beautiful Vasilisa (and I’ll post more on her later).

Before I go, a little pretty for a rainy Sunday afternoon…

Poster for Salon des Cent, Eugene Samuel Grasset, 1894

So, what’s in store for September? A bit of everything.  Fiction by new writer Laura J. Sanger (Not One of Us, Chimaera Serials, Black Ink Horror, Leading Edge Magazine) and Kentucky author Patricia Correll (Reflection’s Edge, A Thousand Faces, The Written Word, Art Times and Magazine of the Dead), to name just a couple. Want to know more? Come see us Sunday! Or look for tomorrow’s teaser post…

Now, a little bit of business stuff.

With respect to guidelines and querying: if you haven’t heard from us, we still have your submission. I know our guidelines say a 30-40 day turnaround; we’re working on it. There’s simply so much wonderful work for us to wade through that it takes us time to give everything the attention it deserves. Anyway, the upshot of all this is ff you want to query, don’t hesitate. We know it’s difficult to sit on your hands, really, again, don’t hesitate to drop us a line. And if you don’t need to query–write to us anyway! We <3 feedback.

Status: we’re working on our Cinderella issue too right now (more on that in the coming days) and farther ahead. I’ll post themes (loose themes) when we’ve all managed to stop gossiping about our contributors and our fixations on chocolate (me: dark. joe: milk. sheryl: milk. rouha: dark.) long enough to reach a decision.

Have a happy Friday, People!

I’ve been–and still am–away. I wish I could say I’m off on a fairy tale fact finding mission, but I’m not. Well, not really. I am busy talking to people, searching out literature, and generally doing things for Les Bonnes Fees at the moment. But, because I’ve been travelling, my internet access has been patchy, so I haven’t been able to post much.

A general update–our water theme has been working out rather well, though I’m still looking for non-fiction and poetry. We work with google documents mostly, too, but there have been some issues with that lately so, if you haven’t heard from us, don’t panic. We are reading submissions, and we are sending out .rtf and .pdf notes and comments. Some of these emails will be coming from others on the Fees team due to my woeful lack of regular internet access, but I do see everything that comes in.

And the next issue? There’s no real theme as yet, but I’ve been seeing a lot of Hansel and Gretel works lately, so perhaps there’ll be something in that. Maybe something not quite as specific as that, but a theme to do with eating, or manipulation, or even mother and father figures…what do you think? Comment and let us know!

I’ll be posting a bit more about Rampion in the Belltower tomorrow (Australian time), as the lovely Merrie Haskell has written a bit about how she came to write the story. ‘Til then!

Artists–we haven’t forgotten you. If we’ve contacted you about using your work, we’ll be sending out a contract &c. soon. (Joe is our contract guru, so don’t be surprised if you’re hearing from him rather than me. Don’t worry–he improves on acquaintance.)

Second issue–we’re working on it! We’re sorting through works for the second issue right now (at least, we will be as soon as I’ve posted this). Again, we’re not much on themes, but we’ve been getting a lot with water as a focus, a character, and a setting, so perhaps we’ll work with that. i.e. if you have a water-styled piece, send it in! We’re also actively building our list of non-fiction contributors (including reviewers); if you’re interested, drop us a line with a sample article or two.

Third issue–we’re working on it, too. No emergent themes as yet, but I’ll post if/when something crops up.

So, wondering about the first issue? Stay tuned–I’ll be posting a little about some of our contributors in the next few days.

I can be reached through the general Les Bonnes Fees address.

Later this week, we’ll be revealing a bit about our first issue’s cover artist. In the meantime, a fairy tale…

Kate Crackernuts

Kate Rolls Nuts To The Baby

Once upon a time, there was a King with a daughter called Bonny Kate, and a Queen with a daughter, also named Kate. Princesses both, the two girls loved one another very much, sharing the best of heart and hearth. The King and Queen, remarking this, soon decided they should love one another also.

Now, everything between the girls remained as before, but the Queen’s heart was stained by jealousy, being as the King’s Kate was bonnier than her own. Vexed, she walked out to the old hen-wife to seek help with her trouble. “Just send her to me a-fasting,” said the old woman, “I’ll set her bonny looks to rights.”

So, come early the first day, even before the fast-breaking, the Queen said to Bonny Kate, “ Walk out to the hen-wife and fetch me back a basket of eggs, for I hear her chickens are in fine fettle.” And so the girl set out, but as she passed through the kitchen, she laid her hand upon a crust of bread, and took it with her to nibble along the way.

When she came to the hen-wife’s house, Bonny Kate bespoke a basket of eggs, and the hen-wife said to her: “Look into that stirabout for me, love, while I off and get your eggs.”

Kind lass that she was, Bonny Kate did as she was told, unaware of the hidden hen-wife’s gaze. Leaning over the fire, she watched the pot faithfully, but nothing happened. The hen-wife then handed her a basket of eggs, and sent her home, “and remember your mother to keep her larder better locked.”

Come early the second day, even before the fast-breaking, the Queen contrived to send Bonny Kate back to the hen-wife, “for a bunch of fresh sage, which,” she said, “grows best in the clay soil near the hen-wife’s farm.” And so the girl set out once more, with nary a bite of breakfast.

Rambling along the road, the princess soon met some kind farm folk pea-picking by the wayside, and she stopped to pass the time of day with them. After a spell, Bonny Kate returned to her errand; the farm folk gave her some peas to gnaw as she went her way.

Again the hen-wife slipped into the larder; again Bonny Kate looked over the pot; and again nothing happened. The hen-wife then handed her a bunch of sage, and sent her home, “and bid your mother keep a sharper eye on her ducklings”.

Come the third day, the Queen went with Bonny Kate to see the old hen-wife. The princess’ stomach rumbled as the walked, but the Queen said “we must hurry,” thereby ensuring Bonny Kate ate nothing along the way.

When she was bid look over the hen-wife’s pot, the princess hesitated. But what could she do, with the Queen and the hen-wife urging her? Mustering her courage, Bonny Kate leaned over the pot—and as her own head fell off, a sheep’s head leapt on! With the Queen and hen-wife cackling at her misery, Bonny Kate covered her head with her apron, and walked home in shame.

Seeing her sister thus, the Queen’s own Kate’s was moved to pity. Fetching her best scarf, she tied it around her sister’s head, then gathered together a parcel of bread and cheese and nuts. When twilight settled over the land, the sisters departed the castle they had lived so happily in, determined to find a spell for the sheep’s head charm.

They passed through several villages, Kate offering her services as a scullery maid and kitchen hand in exchange for food and lodging. Sometimes, the warm-hearted country-folk would give them a bit of something, a cottage loaf, or a rind of cheese, because they were such nice, well-mannered girls. Such people always felt sorry for Bonny Kate. They couldn’t see what her trouble was, because she kept her head covered and eyes low, but her sad air and quiet voice spoke her sorrow just the same.
One evening, as the girls passed into a new land, Kate heard a pair of peddlers gossiping.

“It’s true,” said the elder one. “I had it from the barkeep, who had it from the hostler, who had it from the king’s stable boy. Any soul willing to sit the night with the king’s sickening son ‘ll get a pouch o’ silver.” Thanking the peddlers, Kate immediately went to the castle and agreed. A whole pouch of silver! It would go a long way toward helping her sister.

Come sun down, Kate settled herself by the fire in the prince’s room. She had heard that all the people who had sat with him ‘til now had been stolen away by morning. But Kate was a strong lass, brave and true, and now she sat in front of the fire, calmly took work from her apron, and mended stockings.

All was well ‘til midnight, when the great bell began to toll. Then the prince rose, dressed, and ran to the stables with Kate after him, her footsteps lithe and light. He hopped on his horse; quietly, she leapt up also, and held fast to his cloak.

On through the forest they rode, soon passing into a grove of hazel trees. Quiet and nimble as the smallest mouse, Kate plucked nuts and stowed them in the apron. On and on they rode ‘til, after what seemed like hours, they came to a mountain, tall and wide and green. Here the prince halted, saying, “Open green hill, open, and let the prince, his horse, his hound, in!”

“And his lady behind him,” murmured Kate.

Within the green hill, a great dance was taking place. Even the darkest crook blazed with light The prince dismounted and handed his horse to a steward, along with his cloak and hat. Then he was whisked off by some very pretty women, with small pointed ears and dainty wee feet. And so Kate knew she stood in a hall of the good neighbours, and that the prince was caught in their spell. Covering her hair, Kate slipped away and hid herself in a corner, where she watched the prince dance until he could dance no more.

Soon after, the cock crew, and the prince returned to his horse; Kate leapt up behind him. Then back through the forest they rode, Kate plucking nuts all the while.

The next night passed much as the first had done:

Come midnight, when the great bell began to toll, the prince rose, dressed, and ran to the stables with Kate after him, her footsteps lithe and light. He hopped on his horse; quietly, she leapt up also, and held fast to his cloak. Again, Kate plucked nuts and stowed them in her apron; again they passed into green hill; again the prince danced until he could dance no more.

Meanwhile, Kate heard a small cry, and turned to find a baby shaking its rattle at her, wanting attention. She cooed obligingly. Nearby, a woman said, “That’s quite a useful rattle. Three strokes against the forehead, and ‘twill make Kate’s sister the bonniest lass that ever there was.”

And so Kate began rolling nuts to the baby, cooing and calling ‘til he dropped the rattle and began to toddle toward her; Kate scooped the toy into her apron, and crept away to another corner.

Soon after, the cock crew, and the prince returned to his horse; Kate leapt up behind him. Then back through the forest they rode, Kate plucking nuts all the while.

When the King and Queen entered the Prince’s room that morning, they found Kate calmly roasting and cracking her nuts by the fire. “I shall need to spend another night,” she said. Then she ran off in search of her sister.

Lightly did Kate strike her sister upon the forehead, one, two, three. At the third stroke, there sounded a great crack as the sheep’s head tumbled to the ground, and Bonny Kate’s own head appeared in its place.

The next night passed much as the first two had done:

Come midnight, when the great bell began to toll, the prince rose, dressed, and ran to the stables with Kate after him, her footsteps lithe and light. He hopped on his horse; quietly, she leapt up also, and held fast to his cloak.

Again, Kate plucked nuts and stowed them in her apron; again they passed into green hill; again the prince danced until he could dance no more.

In her corner, Kate played with the baby once more. This night, he held a wee birdie in his hands. As before, the baby’s mother and her companion began to talk, unaware of Kate’s long ears.“Ah,” said the companion, “three bites of that there wee birdie, they would make the king’s son as bright and bonny a lad as ever he was.”

And so Kate began rolling nuts to the baby, cooing and calling ‘til he let go the birdie and began to toddle toward her; Kate laid hands upon the birdie, tucked it into her apron, then crept away to another corner.

Soon after, the cock crew, and all was as before.

When they reached the castle, the prince went to bed. But not Kate, oh no! Clever Kate Crackernuts, she hastened to the kitchen and cooked up that birdie fierce quick. By the time the sun was awake in her sky palace, she stood in the prince’s room with a fine tray, laden with coffee and bread and a well-cooked wee birdie.

“Oh!” said the sickening prince, leaning forward. “Oh! If I only had a bite of that birdie—” so Kate gave him one, and he sat up. “Oh, if I had but another bite of that birdie!” so Kate gave him another, and the prince reached for the tray. “Oh! If I had just one last bite of that birdie I feel I might—” And so the prince ate it all up. Soon, roses returned to the prince’s cheeks, shine returned to his eyes, and strength returned to his person.

Next morning, when the King and Queen came to the prince’s room, they found the prince sitting with Kate, by the fire, roasting and cracking nuts. And everyone sat down, around the fire, and listened as Kate told them the story of the green hill and the fairies and the good baby. And they all lived happily after, and are living so still, if they have not died.

Originally published at Peta’s Journal.

At the moment, we’re actively looking for art and non-fiction. If you’re interested, drop us an email at les.bonnes.fees@gmail.com.

In the meantime, have a look at the lovely designs available over at Alienskin Clothing (and thanks to Jessica Marie over at Folk-and-Fairy for featuring them):

Update: our pay schedule is now up on the Guidelines page.

More to come soon!