At home, secretly tucked away on my bookshelf, is the very first story I wrote. It was for a grade five school project. My teacher typed it out for me and let me draw the pictures to go with it. (I’m a really bad artist… so the drawings were horrible but the writing wasn’t too bad, considering I was in grade five.)
It was about a class that went to a museum and stole some dinosaur eggs. The eggs hatched and the dinosaurs destroyed the school. I guess you can tell what I used to daydream about.
My mom kept it all these years and somehow along the way, she gave it to me to keep. I can’t bear to throw it away now. (I don’t exactly show it off either. Note above where I said it was secretly tucked away)
I keep it beside my dragon books. Yes. You heard me. I have almost half a shelf dedicated to dragons. (Side note – I have one shelf dedicated to vampires, one dedicated to Jane Austin, one dedicated to “other worlds” eg. Harry Potter, Narnia, etc. and one dedicated to my favourite children’s books.)
By grade six, I was becoming more and more fascinated with fantasy – specifically – with dragons. On my free time, I would write about them and create different species in my mind.
I felt dragons also needed to have magical powers. Like some could shrink or grow on a whim; or others could blow ice rather than fire. They had exotic names like “The Bubble-Tongued Fire Bellied Dragon” and I would take the time to fill out forms with information like, what did they eat, where did they live, and what did they look like. I did research on reptiles and tried to figure out if dragons were more like lizards or alligators. (I decided it depended on the breed.)
See…even then I was putting together research and notes to go back to.
I still like dragons. Maybe someday I’ll write a novel about them. I’ll put that on my list of things to do.