Friday Flashback: Tales of a 4th Grade Writer

I can tell you exactly when I knew I would be a writer. Fourth grade, I was nine. I had just finished reading a book from my 4th grade teacher's classroom bookshelf, and I loved it so much that when I was finished I turned it straight back to the beginning and began again.

I had never loved a book that much before.

When I was a six-year-old first grader I was in the slow readers group. I can remember the first day of first grade SO clearly, when the kids around me read the words on the bulletin board at the front of the classroom and my face burned because I had absolutely no idea how to read anything. I remember crying when the other slow readers got promoted to the faster groups but I stayed behind.

But I didn't let it discourage me because I wanted to READ. I pulled out my reading folder every night and worked hard at it and by second grade, I was devouring books. I ate them for breakfast. My grandma used to take me to the library on Monday and I'd check out twenty books at a time and have them all finished by the weekend.

But it wasn't until that mystery I borrowed from my 4th grade teacher's shelf that I discovered I want to be a writer. I want to tell stories that people read, flip the cover over and start again from the very beginning.

So I began to write.

And write and write.

In fifth grade, I spent so much time in the family office, hacking away at the black and green screened computer or scribbling on millions of sheets of binder paper, that my mom gave me a file cabinet. Just for me. One wouldn't think a file cabinet would be the appropriate gift for a ten year old, but WOW that was the best gift ever. I had it in my room all through middle school and into high school, the folders stuffed to the brim with my stories.

Years later, I don't have the file cabinet anymore. But I still have those stories.

And the notes, maps and character sketches to go with them.

I was in high school when I went on a search for that influential book from my fourth grade days. I didn't remember what it was called or who it was by, only that it was a mystery about a girl called Meg, who lived in Williamsburg in the seventies (remember when I posted that I was a colonial girl for Halloween in 4th grade? And when I posted that I wanted to be a colonial farmer when I grew up? Yeah... thanks to me geeking out over that 4th grade book).

My teacher had retired years before so his bookshelf was gone. In the mid-nineties, the world wide web was still a fairly newish thing and you didn't find things quite as easily as you can today... but I eventually found it. It took me about three years to find it, but one day I did! Some lady in Canada with a used book store had it and I snapped it straight up. When I got it in the mail and I opened it up, still remembering everything inside it... well, there might have been tears. Just sayin'

Amazing how something seemingly simple like a book on a classroom bookshelf can change a little 9-year-old's life.

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Have a flashback of your own to share? Hop on over to Tia's blog and join us for Flashback Friday!

xoxo,