First off, before you wander out alone

sniffing for fortune, have sex at least once

so that your sex is no commodity and blood

no restorative. Purity is nothing

but a lure for unicorns.  Avoid all kings.

Castles are for cats with agents. Trust me,

Fairy Godmothering is a racket: first taste free.

Be wary of pomegranates and apples you didn't

pick and peel yourself. The sweeter the fruit, 

the stronger the poison. It's perfectly fine to say

"No. Thank you." No need to be rude about it. 

Definitely avoid treats accompanied by placards 

instructing you to eat. It's easy to outgrow 

doors of houses you don't own. Why chance it all 

on some reduction scheme? Magic is rarely 

delightful for the magickee.

Treat talking toads and poultry warily. They may 

claim it's a curse but even so,  why fling yourself

neck deep into someone else's story? Probably the

talking beast won’t even give your 

character a name. At best, you'll be called

villager or girl or village girl and no lines either. 

One valiant deed will rarely satiate the landed 

gentry. Plan to waste a decade sorting lentils

out of cinders, stealing eggs from giants, or 

trying to speak with sparrows. Wise up, kid!

Ninety clever boys before you rode out waving

And were never seen again.  No postcard.  Nada. 

Don’t wave.  Observe.

Be, quick and low.  Silent as stone. 

Don’t think you know everything because

nobody ever does. You might feel lucky but

no one beats the house for long.  Survive 

long enough and you become your home. Just 

another sucker leasing to own.  Be wary of those

who fall in love with their own lies.  Immediately run

far away and if you mentioned it, change your name.  That 

kind of guy starts to believe he’s speaking for God.  

Before you know it, you’re spellbound on a bus 

bound for some hard-bitten years of deprivation 

performed on tambourine at airports.  Chance any

escape you can improvise once you remember

we are none of us immortal or we wouldn’t have

pockets.  Expect thieves especially at revivals.  Make it 

habit to look backstage without apology. See? Those curtains 

are not walls, just heavy.  Look for seams.  Before

you kick the door down--try the knob.  Save your

toes for climbing out, gold or no gold. Get old enough

your nephew stops pretending he’s still listening.  

Just one more thing and it’s important.  When 

the sky is beautiful, remember to look down and swerve

around the inevitable piles of shit ahead.  

I’m finished. You can go. 

Come back if you make it to 40

and I’ll tell you all the really scary stuff.