The first book I ever wrote was titled The Sad Shape. I wrote it when I was in kindergarten. Here is the complete text of that book:

Once there was an object. He was a circle. He was not happy. Everyone laughed at him because he could not walk. He had to roll because he had no legs. But one day they had a race down hill. All the others had legs but the circle.The others started to go slower slower slower. But the circle went on and on and on. And the circle won! And then everyone loved the circle. He was the fastest object in town. And that's why I like circles a lot.

I'm not sure what the moral of this story is. Everybody loves a winner? I don't think this is a particularly good story, but I like my use of the word “object.” It's a little unusual.

I wrote many stories after The Sad Shape. In the third grade, I wrote a story entitled Abon Visits Jamania, a science fiction story about a space traveller.

In the fourth grade, I wrote a story entitled Lioctopus in which the first-person narrator is turned into a beast—half lion, half octopus— by a wicked witch.

In the sixth grade, I wrote a story entitled The Search for the Missing Tail. In this story, a teddy bear has lost his tail. In his search for his tail, he mistakes a lot of hairy things for his missing hindquarter.

Do I need to point out that I never attended art school?