I finally found it. My first “novel”– 14 chapters, exactly 51 pages long, with illustrations!
The crazy part? I was 7 years old when I wrote it. I had just started the 2nd grade, my first year of homeschooling.
I showed it to my English class yesterday, and they got the biggest kick out of this page:
You know, lest anyone become afraid that you could suddenly catch a fever and go blind (what happens to the main character).
Also, the back cover clearly shows I did my research (bwahahaha!).
Hmm, a Jewish-Catholic boy? Who lives in Israel? During the Vietnam War? He and his mother actually go to church and sing hymns at one point. They also have something on their doorpost that they kiss whenever they enter the house. You know. Because everything I knew about the Jewish culture had been informed by “Fiddler on the Roof” (I was obsessed with it, at the time, because I’d just started playing the violin).
Clearly, drawing was not my strongest skill…
Also, why couldn’t I have picked names like, “Mrs. Smith”? Mrs. Shatvick? Really? Mrs. Coffman is a more believable name…but then, I can’t really take credit for that one, since our neighbors at the time were The Coffmans.
The page I read to my 9th graders was about Amazone’s birthday party, in which I mention Butterfingers THREE TIMES. Clearly, I was obsessed.
Also, he learns how to play soccer…on his hands and knees. Come on guys, this is genius. Except for the part where I say, “It’s a miricle!”
Anyways, here is the living proof– I always wanted to be either a writer or an English teacher!