The Secret World

I was eight years old when I wrote my story, “A Secret World,” where candy grew plentiful on trees and cute little munchkins ruled the land. Not long after I arrived, however, the munchkins unexpectedly turned on me, and I had to flee my precious world, slither back through the little hole in the fence, and slide into my chair—just in time for my least favorite dinner, liver with onions.

My teacher loved my story and I was sent to The Young Writer’s Conference to share my work. I left the conference inspired and couldn’t wait to write more chapters, even a sequel, of how I finally triumphed over the corrupt munchkins. But sadly, those chapters were never written.

First, doubt creeped in. Then I lost interest because the fear was hard to overcome. Not to sound melodramatic, but my story died that day. The very story that lived in my brain. The one my own mind created. The one no one else knew about.

Just me.

We all have something to share. Something no one else thinks about. A different way of seeing the world.

So grab a paper and pencil and get writing. You're not the only one who needs your words written down.

Others need to read them too.