Book Review: Someday My Prince Will Come by Jerramy Fine

“Someday My Prince Will Come” is a true-life story about a girl who has the courage to purse her childhood dreams.

I wrote this review for The Celebrity Cafe probably about seven years ago. I have notice they have clean their website of my writings so, over time, I’ve been posting some of my past work here.
Jerramy Fine grew up wanting to be a princess. Born in Colorado to hippie parents that named her a boy’s name, she takes the reader through her hippie, farm town childhood. She feeds chickens and never really fits in at school for her royal ways. At the age of six she picks her husband, Princess Anne’s son, Peter Phillips. She even writes letters to Peter in care of Buckingham Palace.
Fine grows up planning her life around going to England and fitting in among royalty. While most girls grow out of Disney fairy tales (her parents never allowed her to watch) she holds on to her dreams. She travels to London for grad-school, meets Princess Anne, and Earl Spencer. She spends a holiday in India, has struggles with flat-mates, expenses of London, and dating.
Fine’s insensitivity to her parents and small town did become a little tiresome half way through the book. If people compromise I guess there would be no book. At times she sounded a little naïve in romance and men. I felt she was trying hard to keep the fairy tale princess theme going and sometimes it came off flat. But she kept the story flowing with her humorist voice and dramatic adventures.
Jerramy Fine’s memoir is a very light and funny read. I found it refreshing to read a memoir that wasn’t all doom and gloom. She is witty and entertaining. I found myself laughing out loud many times. I admire Fine for her determination and endurance setting out and staying true to her goals.

3 out of 5 stars.

Inner Struggles of a Writer

People, I think I’m in a writing slump. I wouldn’t say I am suffering from writer’s block because I am still writing. I say slump because I sit down to write and nothing satisfying happens. I expect some goals to be accomplished but story idea productivity has become stagnant and frustration has followed.

I know I’ve been too hard on myself. With extra time to write I expected more work and have been creating less. My goals are too ambitious. With the extra time I expected a story to bloom on a page the moment I started writing regularly again and take shape, after editing, into a beautiful completed piece of writing. It hasn’t happen that way. The stories seem to stall soon after I’ve started. I’ve been trying to outline some work but struggle. To make good use of my time and not feel like an unproductive moocher, recently I’ve been editing an old piece from college. I’m not crazy about it. I have voices in my head that tell me, something doesn’t sit right, this piece will define my writing style, and this is not the kind of work I want to be defined by.

Okay Brain, shhhhh.

It’s time to just write. Even if it’s an edit, I’m writing. Just finish the story. Finish any story! Nothing saying this narrative will ever be publish but I must keep working. Not every morsel of fiction is meant for publishing. I do believe writing more will awaken my sleepy imagination. Got to stop this head of mind from mucking up my creative process. I must focus on a small task I can accomplish and use that positive energy to push through these anxieties. I know it’s not easy. Making mistakes is a part of the writing process but giving up is the worst failure of all.

Writing slump, come at me, because I’m pushing through.