A Little More Magical
For as long as I can remember, some part of me knew I was destined to be a writer. You might wonder why a small child would think that. The answer is pretty simple. My name means writing. As a child who grew up hearing that, I realized that it was something important and that it was something that kind of belonged to me. My first memory of writing was back in the first grade. I had an activity in class to write a very short story, with illustrations. It was supposed to be a retelling of any classic well-known story. We were given simple white board books, blank canvases that we could turn into anything we wanted. I decided to rewrite the story of the three little pigs. I called it, The Three Little Fish. It was set underwater. I don’t remember much about it, but that was the first time I saw my name on the cover of a book, proudly lining the bottom of the front cover. I remember feeling a sense of fierce pride. This was something I had created and no one could take it away from me. I g...