Guest post from author Erin Dealey
You might know a child like me: one you’d NEVER expect to write children’s books. One who thinks of writing as very serious business–definitely not fun.
I loved school. I loved recess with my friends, playing outside. Huge thanks to my teachers who encouraged every spark of creativity. Oh how I loved reading to the kindergartners, or opening that box of brand new books from the Book Club. (I can still smell them! Can You?) Thank you, Mr. Markey, who assigned 6th-grade autobiographies, and did not grumble when I turned in a biography of me–written by my shadow…
Endless gratitude to growing up in Oakland CA, on a hill where you learned how to stop your bike or jump off your skateboard before the stop sign at the bottom; in a neighborhood where kindness was the norm, and we played together, looked after each other.
My favorite place to do homework was on top of our garage, where a sawed-off footstool (Thanks, Dad!) made the perfect desk, surrounded by the neighbor’s treetops. I liked Math because there was a process to follow to get the right answer and, if my answer was wrong, there was a formula to fix it. With writing, not so much. To me, it felt like you had to be psychic to figure out what the teacher wanted. So, nope, writing wasn’t my thing. [Read more…]
