My ten year old daughter is writing a book. Yes, I have to brag because I am extremely proud. She is 6,000 words in. 6,000 words! That's like twenty pages. What's it about? I have no idea. She won't tell me. Why? Because I won't let her read any of my books. I told her she had to wait until she was thirteen because they're a little more romantic than I want my ten year old reading at the moment. (well, aside from BFF Notebook, which she is reading) So now I'm being punished.
In an effort to find out what her book was about my friend Candi (who she also refuses to tell because of above reason) and I were asking her questions the other day.
"What genre is it?" Candi asked.
She scrunched up her face, "Genre??"
"You know," Candi continued, "is it a mystery, does it take place on a distant planet?"
She shook her head no.
"Is it a fantasy?" I suggested (because I am very partial to fantasy) "Or could it happen in real life?"
"Oh, yes, of course it can happen in real life." Her tone implied 'duh.' But then she lowered her voice an octave, brought her hands up, and as her fingers danced across the air she added, "If the whole world were magical."
Candi and I laughed. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, 'what?'
If the whole world were magical a lot of stuff could happen in real life. I think I like her genre. Real Life Fantasy. My books fall into the same category: Real to me.