How to Become a Mermicorn

Newsletter Issue #61

On Tuesday afternoons, I pick my three-year-old granddaughter Louise up from preschool. We spend an hour or so together before her mom and dad get home from work, and then I spend a few minutes catching up with my daughter and son-in-law before I head home.

Lou and I enjoy lots of different activities during our time together.

When we play pretend, Lou is the Greta Gerwig of every production. If we’re playing that she is a doctor, I am assigned the role of the mom. Dr. Lou gets her medical kit out, and I am directed to bring my dozen or so stuffie children to her for their check-ups, one-by-one—the dog, the owl, the llama, the pig, the flamingo, and so on. Dr. Lou takes their temperatures, gives them their shots, and gives me clear directions for each patient’s aftercare.

If we’re playing dolls, I am given explicit directions as to which outfit each doll will wear, down to the shoes—no substitutions allowed. If we’re playing The Princess and the Frog, I am first directed to be Tiana and to make beignets for Charlotte (Lou) to eat. Then, I must become Charlotte, and Tiana (Lou) makes the beignets and then boils Tiana’s frog boyfriend in a pot, along with whatever other delicacies she can think of—the more disgusting the better … and the more it makes Lou laugh.

Lou brooks no arguments about how things go down. Here is a recent playtime conversation:

Lou: Pretend the kids already know about the magic ornaments.

Me: I have an idea. Let’s pretend the kids don’t already know about the magic ornaments and are surprised!

Lou (looking me straight in the eye): I have an idea. Let’s pretend the kids do already know about the magic ornaments.

This is how it inevitably goes.

We also put puzzles together. (“But not this one,” Lou says. “We’ll need Dad to help us with this one.”) And we play games—most recently a teacup stacking game that we both found a little frustrating. So we played tea party with the teapot, cups, and saucers instead—Lou served pretend tea and coffee to me, her Mom and Dad, her Uncle Sammy, and her Grandma Barbara and Grandpa Bruce.

Recently, Lou has been reading her first chapter books. Well, she can’t quite read yet, but she loves having them read to her, and at the end of each chapter, she says, “Next chapter!” She’s been reading a series about “purrmaids”—three best friends who are part kitten, part mermaid. They live in the ocean, go on adventures, collect charms for their matching charm bracelets, and make friends with other sea creatures, like grrrmaids—part dog, part mermaid.

The purrmaids spawned a spin-off series about “mermicorns”—part mermaid, part unicorn—and Lou started reading those books recently. Tuesday afternoon, I brought her a journal filled with lined pages and blank pages, with a cover that reads, “Just a Girl Who Loves Mermicorns.”

For those of you who aren’t in the know, this is what a mermicorn looks like.

I asked Lou what she wants to be when she grows up, and I was not the least bit surprised when she told me, “I want to be a mermicorn!”

“That’s great!” I said. “Mermicorns love to swim, and you’re already taking swimming lessons, so that’s perfect. And mermicorns love to sing, and you’re a fantastic singer!”

“I’ll need a rainbow unicorn horn, too,” Lou said thoughtfully. Then, “I don’t want to be a mermicorn. I don’t like sharks. I’m going to be a writer and write books about mermicorns.”

Lou grabbed her pink-feather-plumed unicorn pencil and began writing her book, about a little girl who dreams of befriending a mermicorn. She scribbled it all down on the pages of her journal, narrating the story out loud as she wrote. “She closed her eyes and dreamed about mermicorns,” Lou wrote. “She really really wanted to wake up, but she knew it was still bedtime, and she imagined that a mermicorn would just come right to her.” When she finished, she said, “Written by Lou.” Later, when her mom offered to write down the words of the story for her, she said, “I already did.”

I loved watching Louise write and listening to her tell her story. I loved seeing her imagine an experience she dreams of for herself. That’s what writing is all about—when we write, we can become anything we want to be, go on any adventure we dream of, and live out any life we can imagine for ourselves. Isn’t that incredible? *sigh*

XOXO

Leanne

P.S. When I was leaving Tuesday, Lou was asking her mom to read the story she’d written to her later that night, for her bedtime story. I’m wondering how that went—Lou’s handwriting is a little hard to decipher. ;)

“If you fall in love with the imagination, you understand that it is a free spirit.
It will go anywhere, and it can do anything.”

—Alice Walker

SOME THINGS FOR READERS

Falling in Love Again: What am I to do? Always wanted to. Can’t help it.
(Laura Lippman for Shaved Meats, Piled High)

The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire #82: Katya Cengel
(Sari Botton interviews Katya Cengel for Memoir Land)

If Only Your Life Was as Heroic as Your Novel
(Brandon Taylor recommends Kristopher Jansma’s short story “There Aren’t Tornados in Brooklyn” for Electric Literature)

Edith Wharton Was Mom’s Love Language
(Halimah Marcus recommends Robert Travieso’s short story “Mom’s Ashes” for Electric Literature)

“Writing is a job, a talent, but it’s also the place to go in your head.
It is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon.”

—Ann Patchett

SOME THINGS FOR WRITERS

Do it Anyway: Age? What’s age?
(Barbara DeMarco-Barrett for Pen on Fire)

Double Vision and Full Dissolution
(Alix Christie interviews Andrea Barrett about “Dust and Light: On the Art of Fact in Fiction” for Los Angeles Review of Books)

The Biggest Memoir Mistake: When Too Much Backstory Derails Your Narrative
(Lisa Cooper Ellison for Jane Friedman)

Art is the front line: the world is dumpster fire, art is the front line
(Amie McNee for Amie’s Substack)

Human Authored: On the Authors Guild’s “Human Authored Certification” and the Problems with Relying on People to Tell the Truth
(Brooke Warner for Brooke Warner)

The Trouble With Cliche and What You Can Do About It
(Sharon Skinner for Sharon’s Word Nerd Haven)

Start Strong, Revise Less: Do You Use One of These Story Entry Points?
(Heather Garbo for Write Your Next Chapter)

Never Call Yourself a Writer, and Other Rules for Writing
(Shawna Kenney for The Brevity Blog)

“You are lucky to be one of those people who wishes to build sand castles with words,
who is willing to create a place where your imagination can wander.”

—Anne Lamott

SOME THINGS TO UPLIFT YOU

Reading Maggie Smith always uplifts me. Thank you, Maggie.

Pep Talk: On Hanging in There

Susan DeFreitas uplifted me … and everyone she met. Thank you, Susan.

What We Can Learn From Susan DeFreitas, a Book Coach Who Died Way Too Young

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Leanne Phillips
Writer | Book Coach | Editor
​leannephillips.com

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