Recently I was rummaging around in a box of my old kid things and I came across the first book I ever wrote. Paper stapled into cardboard and illustrated. My spelling and grammar did eventually get better, but I doubt my handwriting did.
I think my favorite part is where I almost wrote "by Gigi Little" on the cover and then fixed it, writing a bolder letter d in place of the b.
The ending was a shameless plagiarism of the ending to Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are.
...but Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye
and sailed back over a year
and in and out of weeks
and through a day
and into the night of his very own room
where he found his supper waiting for him
and it was still hot.
I wasn't old enough to understand just why those last five words were beautiful, but somehow I knew they were. And I stole accordingly.