My First Book

The very first book I ever wrote was a nifty little number entitled Charlie at the Fish Olympics. I think I was in the fifth grade. Our teacher gave the assignment right around the time of the 1980 Olympics (hence the sports theme). I don’t remember actually writing the story, and my memory of the plot is pretty hazy (basically, a clownfish wins lots of gold medals). I do remember that it was “written and illustrated by Sarah Andrews and published by Googlelot McGuire.” My teacher may have given me extra points for adding a fictitious publisher’s name. The cover was cut from cardboard and was slightly crooked. The whole thing was held together with shiny brown packing tape (apparently we were fresh out of duct tape). I was proud of the idea; I was even proud of the cover and the binding. This was an A effort.

I got my A, and a whole lot more. At some point my teacher told me I should have the story published. She was proud of me. I was fit to burst with pride. Me, little old fifth-grade me, a published author? This was unbelievable. I actually had talent; there was something I was good at. Wow!

My mother was proud when I told her. When we told my father, he wanted to know how much money I would make (but I like to think that maybe he was proud too). Some people searched a little bit to find a publisher for my masterpiece, but I don’t think anyone searched very hard or very long, and that was okay. The idea fizzled. Charlie at the Fish Olympics remains unpublished. I believe it is in a box either in my mother’s house or in my storage space.

The lack of publishing success is not important. What is important is the confidence this experience gave me. I already had an inkling that I was pretty good at putting words together. Certainly I’d written stories for school before and had gotten good grades on them. What was new was the sense that people might actually want to read what I wrote. That astounded me. To be perfectly honest, this idea still astounds me, which is partly why most of my writing sits on my computer instead of in readers’ hands. But those words from my teacher, “You should get this published,” brought possibility into my life. Those words opened my mind and are at least partly responsible for the words I write today.