It is funny the things you remember.
A reader asked me the other day about the first story I had ever written. I didn’t know how to respond. Creating Star Runners was not my first story. People might not be able to remember their first story, but I remember most of them for some reason—especially the first.
My second grade teacher asked us to write about whatever we wanted. The class moaned and complained, but I secretly rejoiced. This was the best assignment I had ever been asked to complete. I didn’t know school could be fun.
I went home and wrote several pages. I don’t remember how many, but it was at least between five and ten pages. I remember my hand hurt.
In the story, a crazed creature had broken loose in my neighborhood and caused all manner of shenanigans. My friends and I found a laboratory in someone’s basement complete with glowing test tubes, black lights and those little electric lightning balls everyone loved in the 1980s. In the end of the story, we discovered something called a “Zeeky-Zok-Zork” had escaped from his lab and carried out harmless pranks. I had been blamed for one in the story. Naturally, we captured the creature and all was right with the world.
I have no idea if the teacher actually read the entire story, but I know she wrote, “Creative story!” What more could I have asked for? I was hooked.
If I only I could find my teacher and thank her.
I still get excited about writing a story the same way I did when the “Zeeky-Zok-Zork” came to life. And I hope I always will.