I’ve been writing for a long time. A very long time. I wrote my very first story when I was six, something about a little girl with a pet hippo whose friends didn’t understand her.

I recently told my mother about this. She seems to think I was feeling unappreciated by the kids at school. I think I only knew how to spell a few words, and “hippo” happened to be one of them.

The point is, writing has always been a thing for me. Storytelling in general, really. My sister and I used to play games that would span entire weeks, but stay true to the same storyline. Our biggest one was about a New York newsboy who traveled to India and brought back an Indian girl to be newsboys with him and his rough and tumble gang. Also gypsies. We did gypsies a lot.

The story I’m working on now actually grew out of an idea that grew out of a smaller idea that I’ve had since I was thirteen. And do you know what you get to do? You get to see what I wrote at thirteen to go with that idea.

It’s embarrassing.

And a bit sad.

But I like to think I’ve grown a bit since then. I hope. God, I hope.

So, here it is:

The Musings of a Thirteen Year Old trying to write fantasy

What do your beginnings as a writer look like?

 

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One thought on “A long, long time ago

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