1. Mother returns with Anne. Kate takes Anne and leaves.
2. Kate and Anne find palace of sick prince, reward for spending the night watching him
Kate decides to try for reward (basket of silver)
1st night
Kate learns he is enchanted by fairies who make him dance all night—earns silver
2nd night (for basket of gold)
Kate learns 3 taps of wand will cure sister
rolls nuts to take wand from baby
cures sister upon return to palace
Here’s a sample from the time line:
Ages 7–9? Kate’s father and Anne’s mother die.
Ages 11–13? Kate’s mother and Anne’s father marry.
Ages 13–15? Kate’s mother notices differences between her daughter and Anne and becomes concerned, worried, then obsessed enough to plan Anne’s destruction.
Story begins here: 1st day of story—Kate’s mother contracts with henwife for spell on Anne.
Day 1—sends Anne to henwife but Anne eats crust.
Day 2—sends Anne to henwife but Anne eats peas from gardners.
Day 3—takes Anne to henwife, spell works, Anne’s head replaced with sheep’s head.
Same day—Kate’s mother returns with Anne. Kate wraps Anne’s head in cloth and leads Anne away from home.
? _______ (How long?) the two girls journey (Must take long enough to reach area with another king; yet not so long that they look so raggedy from their journey they are not welcomed)
1st night—Kate stays with sick prince; collects nuts as they journey together; learns nature of spell fairies have placed on him; earns silver.
Next morning—Kate is sitting at fireplace cracking nuts, given silver, makes deal for 2nd night for gold.
As you can see from these excerpts, the word outline and time line, while similar, are not exactly the same. When I create a word outline, I focus on the sequence of events in the story. When I create a time line, I focus more on the passage of time within the story, not just the order of events. Both are learning tools, created while I am working to learn the story to help me see how events might flow.
I also made a story map for “Kate Crackernuts” using cartoon-like stick figure drawings. When I create story maps, I continually ask myself: What is the next picture I need to create for my audience? I’m also creating the map as I’m striving to understand the story, so it keeps changing and changing as my understanding of the story changes. My “Kate Crackernuts” story map is pretty much indecipherable by anyone but me. And that’s okay, because I’m the one I created it for!
Okay, I imagine you have the idea. I draw pictures, not great art, but stick figures, as I’m thinking my way through the story. The map for this story continues for thirty-seven panels, with some containing words (Panel 32 says “repeat panels 21–25”) to note repeated events. As I work, I notice when I need to return to the text because I can’t recall what comes next. I consult the text only as much as necessary to keep myself moving through the story. I do not consult the text for every step as I create my story maps because I’m working to discover how I picture the story, not trying to create a rough duplication of images I could glean from the text. It is the process of drawing the map that contributes to my learning by making me think through the story visually instead of with words.
Story Map
Panel 1: Four stick figures, labeled KM (for Kate’s Mother), AF (for Annie’s father), K (for Kate), and A (for Anne). A line connects Kate’s mother and Annie’s Father. Another line connects Kate and Annie.
Panel 2: Kate surrounded by trees with circles representing nuts underneath them. Off to the side is a palace with an arrow pointing away from it (to emphasize that this character spends her time outside).
Panel 3: Annie surrounded by musical notes and a needle and thread. Off to the side is a palace with an arrow pointing toward it (to show this character spends her time inside).
Panel 4: A frowning Kate’s Mother stands on the left. From her head, a cartoon thought bubble with musical notes and a needle and thread inside. Facing her, a smiling Kate holds a nut in her hand.
I also ask and answer questions as part of my work, such as:
• Kate’s mother notices Kate and Annie are different, but what does she see and what does she hear that leads her to become so obsessed she is willing to destroy Annie?
• What is Kate’s mother so afraid of?
• Why don’t the fairies know Annie is cured and wand is missing if they know Annie is at the palace?
• Why don’t they catch on and stop Kate—or do they know she is listening?
• Or do they just not check the palace every day?
• Or, is Kate listening to different fairies who are talking about different things, and the fairies themselves have not communicated new information to all before Kate secures the yellow birdie?
And I make notes of my observations, such as:
• Fasting is important to put spell on Annie, but eating is important to break spell on Prince.
• The henwife says “The pot won’t boil if the fire is away” to mean the spell is your idea so you need to be here—you are the fire. On this day the henwife doesn’t even ask if Annie has eaten, she just gives the message?
I don’t usually save the work I create while working on learning a story. I just happen to still have the work from “Kate Crackernuts” because at about the time I was finished using my outline, time line, and map, I was hired to teach a full-day workshop on learning to retell folktales. The workshop coordinator wanted participants to be able to attend the workshop having already selected a story and completed some of the work of learning it before they arrived. Because I did not want participants to fall into the common misconception of believing learning a story meant memorizing the words, we mailed participants copies of my learning work as examples, and asked them to arrive with outlines, time lines, and maps of their chosen stories. Seeing my examples helped the workshop participants really believe my advice that the only way they could create unacceptable outlines, time lines, or maps for their story would be to simply not create them at all. So, I saved my work and have used it as preparation examples for workshop participants in subsequent folktale retelling workshops.
That I do the sort of work I’ve described—creating outlines, time lines, story maps, asking questions, making observations, and more—while pondering the story I want to retell does not make me unique among storytellers. This is the type of work many tellers who “learn the story, not the words” do as they come to know a story they wish to retell. This is also the sort of work I first learned about in the storytelling residencies with Laura Simms.4
Eventually I reach my goal of becoming so familiar with the characters and the story of what happened to them that I can more fully imagine this story from their lives. When you compare my version with the Jacobs version, it is pretty clear I’ve imagined more details of the girls’ lives than the Jacobs text provided. Because I wanted to focus on Kate and Annie’s story, I provide more detail so my audience can more fully picture how these two stepsisters, while very different from each other, show love and respect for one another. And, as mentioned earlier, my interest in Kate’s mother’s motivation led me to more descriptions of what she saw and felt as she watched Kate and Annie grow up.
I’ve also made smaller deliberate changes. I changed the peck basket to a pound. Maybe you’ve bought something by the peck recently, but I haven’t. When I considered using simply “basket,” I kept imagining Kate negotiating the size of the basket before agreeing to her task, and there I was—back to “peck.” I dropped the hound because I simply could not picture Kate and the dog at the home of the fairies without also seeing the dog’s actions revealing her presence. As for the yellow birdie? Why yellow? I haven’t a clue, although I’m fairly sure I harbor no animosity toward Tweety!
In addition to thinking and imagining beyond the text of a story, it’s not unusual for me
to also think about events in characters’ lives that I know I’ll never include in my telling of the tale: How did Kate’s mother explain the missing girls to Annie’s father? Did she tell the truth or lie? How did Annie’s father react to these events? Did the girls invite the parents to their wedding? Could Kate and Annie ever forgive Kate’s mother? Is any reconciliation ever possible after such events?
I owe a big thank you for my ending of the story to Candy Kopperud, the library services coordinator at Palmer Public Library in Palmer, Alaska. Until Candy heard the story, I had ended it with a reference to the weddings and a happily ever after. After she heard the story, Candy told me she had been sure I was going to mention dancing at the weddings and how Kate’s prince did not like dancing, but did not know why. Oh my! I knew an improved ending when I heard one, and with Candy’s permission I’ve incorporated her idea into the ending ever since.5
I don’t know what happened to the would-be Texas cheerleader, but her mother was granted probation in 1997. The young woman was thirteen when her mother was convicted and seventeen when her mother was granted probation.6 By now, she is an adult. Like Kate Crackernuts, I hope she managed to know and trust herself and chart her own successful path.
THE KING AND HIS ADVISOR
There once lived a king. The king had an advisor. Everywhere the king went, his advisor went. Whenever anything happened, the advisor would say, “Your Majesty, everything happens for the good.” The king thought this meant his advisor was incredibly wise.
One day, the king and his advisor were walking in the palace gardens. The king spied an especially beautiful rose. He reached out to pick it, and a thorn cut his finger. His finger began to bleed and bleed.
The king cried, “Look at this. Who could imagine such a cut from a thorn on a rosebush?”
The advisor looked, “Your majesty,” he said, “everything happens for the good.”
“What? I cut my finger. I am in pain and all you can say is everything happens for the good. Now that I think about it, I see that is all you ever say. I thought you were wise, but perhaps this is the only thing you know how to say. I order you thrown into the palace dungeon. What do you say about that?”
“Your majesty,” said the advisor, “everything happens for the good.” The advisor was thrown into the palace dungeon.
A day or so later, the king went hunting. When he was far away from his own lands, he was attacked and seized by people whose ways were quite different from his own. One of the customs of his captors was that of killing prisoners in sacrifice to their gods. When the people saw the king, they said, “Look at him! His clothing is magnificent! Surely he will be a perfect sacrifice for our gods.” They began planning the sacrifice.
When all was ready, a final inspection was made of the king’s body, for it was essential that anyone sacrificed to the gods be perfect—no marks, no scars, no blemishes of any kind.
When the inspectors found the cut on the king’s finger, they said, “He isn’t perfect! We could never sacrifice him to our gods. Our gods would be displeased.” They took the king back to where they had captured him and set him free.
The king hurried to his own lands. He went straight to his palace, then straight to the palace dungeon. He told his advisor the whole story, “. . . and so, my dear advisor, I now understand why, when I cut my finger, you said, ‘everything happens for the good,’ but I still don’t understand why when I said I was going to throw you into this horrible place, you still said, ‘everything happens for the good.’ ”
The advisor smiled. “Your majesty,” he said, “that’s easy to explain. You see, I go everywhere with you. Had I been with you, I too would have been captured. Your majesty, my body has no marks, no scars, no blemishes of any kind. Me, they would have killed! So, you see your majesty, everything happens for the good!”
COMMENTARY
Sometimes a wonderful story is dropped in a teller’s lap, or in this case, arrives in the mailbox. In 1986, I told stories at Thompson Middle School in Southfield, Michigan. Shortly thereafter, I received a letter from Umang Badhwar, a thirteen-year-old student. In her letter, Umang thanked me for my storytelling, saying, “I really liked the way you drew a picture in my mind by just using words.” Then she added, “Well, see I know this one story called, ‘The King and his Advisor,’ and here’s how it goes:
The King and his Advisor
Once upon a time there was a king. He was known to be the strongest king in the world. Now, this king had a priest as his advisor. Well one day the king was in his garden admiring his beautiful flowers, when he pricked himself on a rosebush.
“Look!” shouted the king, “I just pricked myself on the bush!”
“Everything that happens, happens for the good,” answered the advisor. Everytime something bad would happen, this would be his answer.
“Shut-up!” shouted the king and demanded that the priest or the advisor be locked up in the chamber. “Do you have anything to say before I lock you up?” questioned the king.
“Everything happens for the good,” answered the advisor.
The next day the king went hunting alone deep into the jungle. The king saw a tiger and began to follow it. As he was doing so, a native tribe captured the king and took him back to camp. The native people would burn people in respect for their god, but they burned people with no cuts or scars on their body. As soon as the native people saw the cut on the king’s finger, they let him go.
As soon as the king got home he demanded that his advisor be let free. Then the king asked the advisor, “The native people did not kill me because of my cut, but why was it good that you got locked up?”
“Because my great lord, if I would have gone with you, they would have killed me instead!” replied the advisor.
Umang ended her letter with the following: “Hope you liked it! My grandfather told me this from India.” She hoped I liked it? I loved it! I wrote back to Umang for permission from her and her family to retell the story. In her reply, she wrote: “I would be very happy if you told my story as a part of your collection.” And “My grandfather shared this story with me over the summer. He said that it was passed on to him from his father. My grandfather is from India, and so am I. I came to the USA about eight years ago.”1 After that exchange, I added the story to my repertoire, but I did not stay in touch with Umang. In the midst of working on this book, I found her again!
Not long after I visited her school in Southfield, Michigan, Umang’s family moved to Bloomfield, Michigan, where she graduated from high school. In college she studied English and psychology. She also lived a year in Chicago and then nine years in New York City. In 2008, she returned to Bloomfield to finish her master’s degree in clinical psychology. She is currently in the last phase of the program and is also studying psychoanalysis at the Michigan Psychoanalytic Institute. Someday she hopes to have her own practice. I was delighted to learn of her accomplishments, and I asked her if she remembered sending me the story and if she tells it. Yes! And Yes! The story is one Umang tells to her brother’s children.
Compare Umang’s version with my retelling, and you can see that while I’ve stayed true to the basic plot, I have retold the story in my own words, gradually making changes along the way as I filtered the story through my imagination. Looking at both versions, I can see I added more dialogue, changed “priest” to a consistent “advisor,” sent the advisor to a “dungeon” instead of a “chamber,” changed the single god in Umang’s story to the multiple “gods,” and had the advisor provide more of an explanation at the end. Other than the consistent change to “advisor” and the explanation at the end, I made none of my changes consciously. I simply told and retold the tale as I remembered it, keeping what seemed to work with each retelling.
Years after adding this story to my repertoire, I found a collection of tales from India, Folk Tales of Orissa by Shanti Mohanty, which included a variant of the story.2 In Mohanty’s version the basic plot is the same. Differences between the M
ohanty and Badhwar versions include: The advisor is referred to as the king’s minister. The king cuts off his finger while attempting to cut a mango. The king has his minister pushed into an old well. The king follows a stag into a forest and is attacked by Savaras.3 The god to receive the sacrifice is female, while gender is not specified in the Badhwar version.
In Folk Tales of Orissa, Mohanty writes, “It is not surprising to note that more or less similar stories are prevalent even in distant states of India.”4 Umang heard the story from her maternal grandfather, whose surname is Sansi. The Sansi family is not from Orissa, but is originally from Multan, Pakistan. Umang wrote, “After the partition of India and Pakistan, Hindus were exiled from Multan, that’s how my grandparents settled in New Delhi.”5
So, what makes a folktale a folktale from a specific place or people? Umang Badhwar became a U.S. citizen in 1990. She tells this story to her brother’s children, and perhaps someday they will tell it to their children. Umang heard the story told in Hindi when her grandfather from New Delhi, India, was visiting Michigan. She sent me her English translation of the tale.6 The family member she heard it from was born in what is now Pakistan. So, is this story a folktale from India? A folktale from Pakistan? At some point does it become an example of American folklore? Is it already an example of U.S. folklore? Who decides how the tale would be classified?
In this book, the Kentucky folktales were all collected in Kentucky. So, if I had encountered Umang in a Kentucky school instead of in a Michigan school, would that make her tale a Kentucky folktale? Is it because she knows her grandfather grew up in India and the story is part of her cultural heritage that makes this story an Indian folktale? What if a Kentuckian retelling a folktale knows the family ancestors are from France, England, or Germany? Are the tales passed down through the generations Kentucky folktales or are they French, English, and German tales?
Could “The King and His Advisor” be classified as an example of Michigan folklore? After all, it was passed along in Michigan, so it could be said to have been collected in Michigan. Yes, it was sent to me in writing, but Umang heard it orally. Many of the Kentucky tales in this book were collected orally by students in classes who then transcribed, or recalled, the tales and presented them in writing to their teachers in college and university classes. From there, the tales have found their way into various archival collections. Some of them include information about where the teller heard the story, but many do not. And all of these tales, unless noted as being collected outside of Kentucky, are considered Kentucky tales.
Kentucky Folktales Page 16
