I read a lot! At a the young age of six, I read the whole Little house on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I enjoyed it, and still do. It usually took me about one week or so to finish a big chapter book. Now, if I'm really interested, I can read a big, big chapter book in one or two days. But I loved to read. I did it all the time. 
            Of course, when you read all the time and you're a young child who has note books full of lists of people you know, and you love to write, you want to be able to write books, too. This was me. I wanted to write amazing stories of what little kids like to write. Stories of  the Princess getting saved by the Prince, stories of animals who can talk and are your friends, wild tales of men sailing the high seas. At least, those are the kind of things I wanted to write. 
           I wanted to have my name published on the front of the book for all to see. I wanted be famous. Of course, that's not my goal now. But it was then. I have twenty five notebooks in my room that I either started a long time ago that are finished, unfinished, or books that I recently started that are finished, or unfinished. I have even more packed away in a box in our shop. 
          Now, I don't usually write about the things I wanted to write about as a child. I write about people from the Bible, World wars 1 and 2 era, the 1700's and 1800's, Great Depression/Dust Bowl era, ect. I have a lot of unfinished stories that I started and never finished. 
          I found my first composition the other day. As I read through it and tried to make sense of the hilarious miss-spellings and horrible handwriting, I was almost in tears laughing until my stomach hurt. I'm sure there are more stories hidden that are just as funny, but I'll post this one today. I wrote it when I was five in a half, on a warm, July morning.

The invisible Monkey

Once upon a time, there was an invisible monkey named Emma. She lived in a tree house with her Mommy and Daddy and her two baby brothers. Emma didn't have any friends, because since she was an invisible monkey, nobody liked the way she looked, so they just ignored her like she wasn't even there. They just acted like the couldn't even see her. Emma was sad. She cried  to her Mommy every time she came home, "Mommy, the kids at school made fun of the way I look."
Mommy would hug her and kiss her and say, "It's alright, Emma, because you are my little monkey and I love you." This would always make Emma feel better, but she was still sad that nobody wanted to be her friend. Then one day, at school, Emma saw another invisible monkey! She ran over and said, "My name is Emma! What's your name?" The other invisible monkey's name was Isabel, and they became best friends. 

The End

I laughed so hard when I read that. Now, my compositions are not like this. But they were then, and it's so fun to look back and read those things I wrote and remember how I thought that I was going to be world famous if that got published.