When I began to write stories

I don’t even remember exactly how old I was, but it was pretty soon after learning to read – at the age of three. I had these little note pads, where I was constantly writing little stories, based on the kind of books I liked to read, or had read to me. They’re all gone now, and that’s just as well. From what little I remember, those stories were really simple.

After that, I kept writing, but I don’t think there’s anything left from the time before I was ten or so. I wrote essays in school, but that’s hardly the same thing. One of them made my teacher ask my mom to come in and talk to her. Apparently I’d written something about how school was like a prison…

Several years later, I wrote another story about how I felt about school. It was about a little ant who was kept prisoner by her enemies…

Did I have any role models? Some, at least. Not counting the writers I read as a child (some of which I still return to) I didn’t have that many role models, but I did have my parents.

Mom used to tell me really great stories. I wish she’d written them down. In the past couple of years, mom has begun to write really cool children’s stories – many of them are about respecting animals, as well as people.

My dad used to write when he was a kid, mainly stuff for his school paper, but also some poetry. He once won a contest on his school for that poetry. I’ve been told that he also wrote some adventure stories, probably about space travel. His older sister was called in to help him with illustrations. She was a very kind sister. Even if she’d been out until late the night before, she’d always help her little brother out.