It all started in elementary school. The dreams of anoblivious and carefree eleven year old girl. The dream to become an author someday.It is actually all thanks to my dad. He would make me and my siblings write twopages a day – where we would skip a line- but two pages nonetheless. I guess hemade us do it to keep us occupied, and he knew we despised writing. I used tohate writing those two pages a day. I would write just some nonsense and wishfor the best. Then one day, I started to stop writing nothing, and I made astory out of the top of my head. I think a book might have inspired me to writebecause I was – still am- a complete book worm. I did not like writing, but I absolutelyloved reading. I would whine and beg to my dad to take me to the library and Iwould check out literally twenty books in one time. The library fines werehigh, too. Anyways, I started to use my imagination and started writing, andone day I decided, with the encouragement of my brother, to write a book one day in my life. The goal still stands. My passion for writing still stands, granted that I do not write much nowadays. I really do love letting my imagination one wildand expressing myself through writing. It is a stress reliever for me. Itransport myself into a different world by reading and when I write the worldmyself. My imagination is never grounded. Writing is a sort of anchor for me.As big as it goes, I truly wish I could be the next J.K. Rowling. Maybe evenbigger.