Dear Gilbert,

The Children's Fairy House took my story! They're going to print it in their April issue! I sent them that story I wrote for Walter- the one with the made up animal! It's going to be in the magazine!

I've tried a great many magazines- all I've been doing lately is writing!- and no one's accepted anything, but yesterday I got the letter in the mail and now I'm going to see a story of my very own, published for the first time!

….My, I've certainly used a lot of exclamation points, haven't I?

But you know what, Gilbert? ...It feels awfully good to live a life that can be full of exclamation points!

Anne's only downside was that the magazine did not want to use her illustrations in the story. They had their own artist, and when the magazine came out, her story was accompanied by his drawings instead of hers. She had to admit that their magazine artist did draw better pictures than she did, but she didn't like that he was allowed to make the mysterious animal in the way he had dreamed up- it didn't look at all like the animal she had drawn for Walter.

Anne continued to write, so much so that she wasn't as helpful as she could be.

Marilla didn't mind, smiling to herself as she scrubbed pots and pans after dinner. She was glad Anne felt a sense of purpose.

And, she thought, I'll have to get used to doing my housework without the help of a daughter! She'll marry and be gone from me, grown up to run her own household.

The thought was bittersweet- how she would miss her!- but how relieved she was, to know that Anne already had the promise of a life full of love: she had a good man, one who was committed to her, and a child who adored her...Marilla knew her dear girl would never be alone.

The next time Gilbert was able to come home- it was a holiday weekend- Anne put her writing aside to spend time with him, until one evening, observing Gilbert and Walter engaged in pretend play, she reached for her pencil and began furiously scribbling away.

Gilbert wouldn't have thought anything of it, except that Anne would frequently stop writing and stare at them, and upon some word or act, would be prompted to take to her paper again. She seemed to be observing them like one would a science project.

Gilbert, curious, asked her about it later.

"I've...I've sort of been writing about Walter," Anne said slowly.

"About Walter?"

"Yeah…" she said slowly. "About raising him."

"Can I read it?"

She let him.

Her writing sounded, to him, like a column in a newspaper, one mothers might read for advice and encouragement. Glancing at the coffee table, he saw a magazine called Mothering. "Is this to send for publication?"

Feeling a bit defeated, she finally told him, "I can't write to a mother's magazine."

"Why not?" Gilbert asked, turning the page. "This is good stuff." He smiled, reading an anecdote about Walter feeding himself for the first time.

But Anne seemed ashamed of it. "I've liked writing about raising him. And I have a lot of ideas! But I can't send them anything, because of that little word that comes before my name!"

"Little word before your name?" Gilbert asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Miss!"

He hesitated. "I don't see why not," he began- but he knew she was right. A lady whose name began with 'Miss', telling their readers about her baby?

"They'd never let me write anything for them."

"What about- when you send it in- just writing your name? No title in front of it."

"Gilbert, I can't. You can't send a letter with no title on it!"

"Ok, then sign it Mrs. instead of Miss. They don't have any way of knowing."

Anne shook her head sadly. "What if someone we know saw my name in there? There are probably women right here in town who subscribe to this magazine. They'd see Mrs. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert and it would be ridiculously embarrassing! And they'd feel sorry for me, which is the worst thing of all."

Gilbert wanted to make a suggestion, but wondered if Anne would take to it or not. "What about...what about taking on somebody else's name?"

"Like a pseudonym?" Anne asked with interest. "I suppose. ...But if I use a pseudonym I'll lose the fun of seeing my name in print!"

Gilbert shook his head slowly. "I didn't mean to make up a name. I meant, keep Anne. You'd be Mrs. Anne...and then you could use someone else's last name. Maybe...you could use mine."

"Mrs. Anne Blythe," she said slowly, trying it on.

Then she looked at him and said, "Gilbert, you just want me to use your name because it makes us sound married!"

Gilbert ducked his head, hiding a smile. "I'm only trying to help," he said. "With your problem of your name and title, and all."

Anne laughed. "How helpful you are. But it is a lie, you know."

"Is it really?" Gilbert asked, impish. "If you were published under the name Mrs. Anne Blythe...and a few years from now, you take that magazine out and look at it again, would Mrs. Anne Blythe still be a lie?"

"Could be. We might have gone our separate ways by then," Anne said casually, teasing him.

Gilbert shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. "The name is yours if you want it. I'm not giving it to anyone else."

All right," Anne agreed with a grin. "I will borrow my name ...from the future."

Mrs. Anne Blythe's beautifully poetic accounts of her child and all the lovely things she did with him out in the summer countryside delighted the publishers of Mothering, who knew that most of their subscribers were housewives living in major cities, full of noisy, crowded, bustling streets and factories that pumped smoke into the air. For them, stories of farm life- with imagery of happy, carefree children frolicking among dewy meadows- painted a picture of an idyllic life.

And- as the magazine editors knew- nothing sold better than the illusion of a perfect life.

Anne's piece was published quickly. But she did not tell Matthew or Marilla.

She also did not tell them when Mothering contacted her to request she write four more pieces.