I've actually written a book once. In the fourth grade my teacher had us write a story and she made the whole cover-thingy so that it looked like a real book...except for the poorly drawn picture on the cover. Anyway we were supposed to write about anything that came to mind as long as it was school friendly. My story was about a pride of lions and a huge salt-water crocodile attacking gods and it was up to a Nile crocodile to save the day by defeating the other croc and making a rainbow to appease to the gods. I have no idea where I got the idea for that story from and now that I think about it, it was the damndest plot I ever heard but all the same I still somewhat proud of what I wrote just because I alone came up with that story and I would still have that book today if my mother didn't 'misplace' it somewhere. So that was the start of my writing I wasn’t exactly enchanted by it since it was the only thing I wrote for fun in the next six years.
Just last year in my English class Mr. Underwood had us write in journals for writing practice I guess and we were supposed to fill them out by the end of the year with whatever floated our boat. Mid-way through the term I only had one-eighth of the journal filled so then I just decided to write stories in it to take up pages. I had, if I say so myself, became a great storyteller over the years so I thought it shouldn’t be a problem. The first story I wrote was about a troll named Wiglaf that I killed and I realized I was enjoying make up stories but they weren’t exactly as… personal as I wanted it to be. No matter how good you can lie being attacked by a ten-foot troll with a silver spear coated in the blood of the hydra just can’t be read as nonfiction. So I decided to write about some of my more memorable and somewhat psychotic dreams and nightmares I’ve had and some of the more vicious battles I had with my brothers. I came to find that I loved writing about past experiences even more than my made-up ones because I could write about it easier and they had all the intensity of a real-life situation, or however real a dream can be. My friends loved my stories as well but that was just an added bonus, what I realized that I truly enjoyed and was entertained by my stories; which was a big thing for me . For the past ten years or so the only other thing I truly enjoy is fighting and it’s nice to have a hobby that’s isn’t so painful or damaging.
