Why I write

I was never much of a fan of English when I was growing up.

Well, I take that back. As a child, my mother read me books, and I was a reading-level ahead of most of my classmates. In elementary school, they gave test in every English class to see what kind of textbook to give to each student, and I was always one of the few using the textbook a grade-level ahead. Also at this point in my life, I was obsessed with R.L. Stine and read Goosebump novels whenever I had free time, including my lunch periods.

But somehow when I got to middle school I lost a passion for reading. I don’t remember liking books at that stage of my life at all actually, and I have no idea why. After my English grades began to slip, I came to the conclusion that I hated English, and acted as such. Continue reading “Why I write”