This week at the Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about an author’s chair. It can belong to any author. Where is it located and why? Does it have special meaning? Go where the prompt leads!
I always loved writing with my children at school. It was such a buzz as they put their stories and ideas on paper. They loved making books of their stories and reading them to their classmates and other classes. In fact, to anyone who would listen. I always provided them with as many audiences as I could as, isn’t that the purpose of writing — to be read? They would take their books home to read to their family and pets. Sometimes I would type up their stories and compile them into an anthology for them to take home and share.
In my class, we were all writers, all authors. Sometimes, older siblings felt they had to share their ‘superior’ worldly knowledge and burst their happy balloons. My story is about that and about the fact that sometimes a belief in oneself is more important than what anyone else thinks. I hope you like it.
When Dave revisited his junior school, he smiled to see the chair in its usual spot.
“Get down,” his big sister had said. “You’re not allowed on there. It’s only for authors.”
“I am an author,” Dave said, holding up the book he’d made in class.
“Not a real author. Real authors have real books published by real publishers, and their feet touch the floor. Anyway, it’s time to go.”
This time, when Dave sat in the chair, his feet touched the floor. The audience hushed as he opened his real book and began to read. Imposter no more.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your comments. Please share your thoughts.