In my junior year, I was given a series of pictures in English class. We were told to pick one and write a story. The photo I chose was a black and white shot of a cat in an open doorway, a little white mouse just inside facing him.
I got an A!
My creative writing instructor then required her students to submit stories and poems to the school’s annual literary magazine, The Flowing Pen. Since the last thing I wanted to do was submit anything for rejection, I handed over my English paper.
Next thing I know, I’m in the annual rag. How the heck did THAT happen?
Continue Reading if you want to see the tortured twisting of my sixteen-year-old self...
