Some writers enter the field in adulthood. Not so for me. Both of my parents came out of college with English degrees, and our house was filled with books. I learned to read at four (and did such a good job my kindergarten teacher brought me to read to my brother’s second-grade class — my first triumph!). After that, I spent long hours of my childhood lost in fantasy worlds.
I started writing in elementary school too, so by the time I hit ninth grade and was told to write a children’s book, I was ready to go. I thought you might enjoy this early attempt, which showcases a common thread that remains in my stories to this day — the outsider.
My adult literary analysis — good story arc, but she needs to lose more than her hair at the end and there’s too much wording repetition. Oh well, what can I say — I was only 13!