Special gift

When I was little I wrote multiple novels. That is, I started writing multiple novels. None of them were ever finished. The longest piece was about 20 pages (handwritten) and I was very proud of it. Only secretly obviously, because I never showed my work to anyone. I was too afraid and shy. I thought I was born to be a great writer, but I didn’t want anybody to know – yet. So, I never talked to anybody about my novels. Had I done that, I might have come out of that lofty cloud of being a oh so special writer a lot earlier.

Today, as I work as a teacher, I talk to many children on a daily basis. And to my surprise a lot of them tell me that they have written stories and novels already. I mean, not hundreds, but a few. Many more than I would have ever expected, especially when I was a child myself. And they talk about it openly. I would have never done anything like that. The thought of anybody knowing about my secret scared the shit out of me. These brave kids. They probably have a far greater chance of ever making it to writers heaven than I had.

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