Never give up the ride.
Here I am, live with Godfrey Goodfellow and his son, Bartholomew Peach, who I turned into a frog that I dated. Gulp . . .
“Gee, Godfrey, um . . . I’m really sorry about this. He looks pretty healthy though. He’s been living in my swamp. We hung out together for a while but there was no hanky-panky. Honest! So, would you mind giving me back my poofing power so I can turn him back into Peach?”
“You never gave up your power. You merely gave up the choice to use it.”
“So, I can just POOF! – and he’ll be Peach again?”
“All this mecca stuff, delivering Peach and my plagued plot to you was – ”
“Just more plagued plot . . . ”
“So, I really am in control here?”
“You’re the author – ”
“Why do I keep forgetting that? OK, then, I’m not going to change Peach back. I like him as a frog. I’ll take him back to the swamp. He can live happily ever after there. He’ll be harmless, and I can keep an eye on him. Problem solved.”
“Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.”