Paging young author self c. 2009

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It’s a little blurry (#blackberryprobs), but it says,
          “Christopher Paolini became a best selling author at 19.
            I want to do that.
            I CAN do that.
            I WILL do that.” Dated October 27, 2009. I was 14.
Now for all y’all who are like
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(I named this gif “da fuq” in my blog folder for moments like these). Let me explain.
Christopher Paolini is the author of widely proclaimed (at least around my school and in our Scholastic Book Fair that year) best-seller, Eragon. When I was a kid (although the book was published in 2002, it didn’t really catch wind till about 2005), every librarian and student alike wanted their hands on it. I remember, since my mother ran our Book Fair, that Eragon got a nice little display that year separate from the other books. But what I remember most is that it was a bit of a big deal, how he was so young and wrote such a book. I recall reading about how his parents were both authors, and he would get asked if it came from their influence. 
I assure you, except for the exact year it came out, ALL THAT WAS FROM MEMORY. It really was a big deal, and I do remember those things in particular. If he could write such a critically acclaimed book as a teen, so could I. Although if I’m being honest, I thought that I’d have a manuscript drafted and edited, ready for publication by the time I was sixteen. Alas, t’was not meant to be.
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That note was taped on the inside back cover of my “story binder”, as I called the green Dollarama plastic (much more potent and strengthy than modern Dollarama plastic, I might add) and metal rings holding together 412 pages (counting front and back) of my baby. It took me almost exactly a year but I had written something that I could proudly publish. In blood, sweat, and tears, no less.
The only problem was that I was 14 when I wrote it. What was a hearty novel of thought and eloquence was now bones (I call books that are all dialogue and plot “bones”, not much meat to them. Think kid’s novels). If you’ve ever read anything your past self has written then you’ll know what I mean. My mind had grown and my baby hadn’t grown along with it.
Now here I am, turning 19 in about a month and a half, and what have I to show for it? A binder covered in dust. I decided this year I would start editing, and rewriting my story to be stronger, better. 
From time to time I plan to post exerts and scenes here, simply because I’m too excited to wait for publishing to share my baby with the world.
This one was a doozy, thanks for making it this far! 🙂 Bonus gif for you~
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