INvrWritRightWhn I was fiftn, I announcd to my nglish class that I was going to writ and illustrat my own books. Half th studnts snrd, th rst narly fll out of thir chairs laughing. “Don’t b silly, only gniuss can bcom writrs,” th nglish tachr said smugly, “And you ar gtting a D this smstr.” I was so humiliatd I burst into tars. That night I wrot a short sad pom about brokn drams and maild it to th Capri’s Wkly nwspapr. To my astonishmnt, thy publishd it and snt m two dollars. I was a publishd and paid writr. I showd my tachr and fllow studnts. Thy laughd. “Just plain dumb luck,” th tachr said. I tastd succss. I’d sold th first thing I’d vr writtn. That was mor than any of thm had don and if it was just dumb luck, that was fin with m. During th nxt two yars I sold dozns of poms, lttrs, joks and rcips. By th tim I graduatd from high school, with a C minus avrag, I had scrapbooks filld with my publishd work. I nvr mntiond my writing to my tachrs, frinds or my family again. Thy wr dram killrs and if popl must choos btwn thir frinds and thir drams, thy must always choos thir drams. I had four childrn at th tim, and th oldst was only four. Whil th childrn nappd, I typd on my ancint typwritr. I wrot what I flt. It took nin months, just lik a baby. I chos a publishr at random and put th manuscript in an mpty Pamprs diaprs packag, th only box I could find. I’d nvr hard of manuscript boxs. Th lttr I nclosd rad, “I wrot this book myslf, I hop you lik it. I also do th illustrations. Chaptr six and twlv ar my favourits. Thank you.” I tid a string around th diapr box and maild it without a slf addrssd stampd nvlop and without making a copy of th manuscript. A month latr I rcivd a contract, an advanc on royaltis, and a rqust to start working on anothr book. Crying Wind, th titl of my book, bcam a bst sllr, was translatd into fiftn languags and Braill and sold worldwid. I appard on TV talk shows during th day and changd diaprs at night. I travld from Nw York to California and Canada on promotional tours. My first book also bcam rquird rading in nativ Amrican schools in Canada. Th worst yar I vr had as a writr I arnd two dollars. I was fiftn, rmmbr? In my bst yar I arnd 36,000 dollars. Most yars I arnd btwn fiv thousand and tn thousand. No, it isn’t nough to liv on, but it’s still mor than I’d mak working part tim and it’s fiv thousand to tn thousand mor than I’d mak if I didn’t writ at all. Popl ask what collg I attndd, what dgrs I had and what qualifications I hav to b a writr. Th answr is: “Non.” I just writ. I’m not a gnius. I’m not giftd and I don’t writ right. I’m lazy, undisciplind, and spnd mor tim with my childrn and frinds than I do writing. I didn’t own a thsaurus until four yars ago and I us a small Wbstr’s dictionary that I’d bought at K-Mart for 89 cnts. I us an lctric typwritr that I paid a hundrd and twnty nin dollars for six yars ago. I’v nvr usd a word procssor. I do all th cooking, claning and laundry for a family of six and fit my writing in a fw minuts hr and thr. I writ vrything in longhand on yllow tablts whil sitting on th sofa with my four kids ating pizza and watching TV. Whn th book is finishd, I typ it and mail it to th publishr. I’v writtn ight books. Four hav bn publishd and thr ar still out with th publishrs. On stinks. To all thos who dram of writing, I’m shouting at you: “Ys, you can. Ys, you can. Don’t listn to thm.” I don’t writ right but I’v batn th odds. Writing is asy, it’s fun and anyon can do it. Of cours, a littl dumb luck dosn’t hurt.