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Some People are Just Destined for Greatness

I’m often asked if I always knew I wanted to be a writer.  I don’t know that I ever really considered writer as a career option.  You know, because I like to eat.  And pay my bills.  And buy extravagant things like socks.  Thinking back to my childhood, however, I remember telling stories frequently.  Usually, my stories consisted of nuggets like, “No, I didn’t hit my sister; the wind knocked her over” and “Yes, yes I did finish all my homework, Mom.”  What can I say?  I was creative with the fiction.

But I have some proof of my budding genius-like story-telling skills.  My mom saved a box of old papers, art projects, report cards, and stories from my grade school days.  Now and then I like to pull them out and reminisce.  I’m always shocked by what I find though.  Somehow, the glorious report cards I remember have changed over the years and now include all sorts of negative comments from my teachers.  The amazing artwork I created back in the day, falls flat when I admire it these days.  And the stories I once considered brilliant masterpieces are well, not quite the epic sagas I remember.  Case in point – here’s a book I penned when I was in the third grade.

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    What an intriguing title. And not the least bit redundant. I'm happy to report that I have since learned how to spell "weird".
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    Waking up to a creepy clown? Yeah, I'd say that was a warning. A warning to get some deadbolts on your doors!
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    I don't know which is better - my amazing illustrating skills or my ability to rhyme words like "neat" and "meat".
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    What imagery! What great figurative language! Okay, so it's another lame attempt at rhyming.
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    I'm pretty sure I did eat pink/black swirled food for lunch back in 3rd grade. It was called meatloaf surprise.
  • image-46 6 of 15
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    Again with the clowns? This is bordering on obsession.
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    Even back then, I knew the importance of including exotic, far-off locations in my story line.
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    Yep, this has best seller written all over it. I think it's pretty clear to see how I became an author, don't you?
  • image-49 9 of 15
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    I'm pretty sure if my dad had ever referred to my mom's cooking as "chopped up junk", he'd be eating nothing but toast for a year.
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    When your TV starts talking back to you, critiquing your brand of toothpaste, it's probably time to lay off the drugs.
  • image-51 11 of 15
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    I like how my teacher corrected and capitalized the "I". In this entire book, that's what she found necessary to correct? Not the misspelled "wierd" on every page, no. Just the "I".
  • image-52 12 of 15
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    So, really, "The Crazy, Weird and Funny Day" is a misnomer as this saga continues into the next day because clearly, one day of this hiliarity is simply not enough.
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    In some countries, that's called a river.
  • image-54 14 of 15
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    Ahhh yes, cannibalism - at the heart of any good children's book.
  • image-55 15 of 15
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    Shhhh, here's a little author's trick - when you run out of plot ideas, just kill everyone off.

I think it’s pretty obvious that even back then, I was headed for literary mediocrity greatness. With skills like those, I was clearly destined to be a writer. Or you know, a sociopath. Six of one, half dozen . . .

Now I’ve gotta go because the wheels in my head are already spinning with ideas for a sequel! Ah, such is the life of a novelist.

Buy my books. You can hang them on hooks. They’re so much fun to read! They’re something you need! They’re the best thing in town. (Well, next to the clown.) Because I Said So and You’ll Lose the Baby Weight (and Other Lies About Pregnancy and Childbirth).

Connect with Dawn on Facebook because she’s far too lazy busy to update her blog every day!

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