When I was about eight I made my first attempt at writing a book.
I came up with the title first.
In fact, I had no ideas whatsoever except the title. Never do this.
I thought of an epic title – I thought it was epic at the time, anyway – and then began writing a story based off of the title. I repeat, never do this.
My biggest problem was that the story had nothing to with the title. But I wanted to keep it because it was so epic.
It was called The Babysitter’s Story. Chilling, isn’t it?
It was about a girl named Jenna and her twin brother Josh. They lived with their single mom and her boyfriend, Jared. The matching names was completely accidental.
Then I got drunk on the power of being a writer and things got out of hand.
This was the writing-crazy stage for me. I plagiarized my favorite books, wrote silly stories about my stuffed animals coming to life that my little brother thought were works of genius, and never wrote more than a paragraph or two about each one before they were discarded.
I got bored of them, or realized that I was being impractical.
So for a long I didn’t write at all.
Then one day, Timothy and I were playing pretend. We were both students in a high school and our teacher had given us an assignment to write a story.
My story was about a girl whose mother had died. She got stuck in a bear trap and a man riding a dragon came and saved her.
Much to Timothy’s confusion, I abruptly quit playing because I had to write this revelation down. It had just come to me – and it was so brilliant!
Something about it appealed to me, right from the start. I had to tell this story.
But first I had to figure out what the story was. So I tried to write it out. But I found that harder than I anticipated. There were so many questions that needed answering. How did the girl’s mother die? What about her father? What’s was the dragon-man’s story?
What was the girl’s name?
I have been writing this story for six years now. And I still don’t know all the answers.
Things have changed a lot. Her name has changed from Jane to Karcy to Andraya to Winter to Denise to Endelyn.
The story has slowly morphed into something the little girl who came up with it in the first place probably wouldn’t even recognize.
New characters have appeared. Other characters faded out. But it’s still the story of a girl.
Endelyn wakes up in a black forest in the arms of a stranger. She knows exactly three things. Her name is Endelyn. She has met the man called Makovu before. And her voice was not always broken.