What children’s authors and artists wrote and drew when they were young

In Our Story Begins, a book due out from Atheneum this July, a number of children’s book creators recall their youthful creative efforts. Small garden design ideas Their entries were collected and edited by author Elissa Brent Weissman, and we present a selection of them here. Facebook live for android Some of the essays have been condensed slightly from the original.

I always knew I wanted be a writer and an artist. Softball savings The two went hand in hand for me. Espn fantasy football draft rankings Even if the assignment was to write a poem, I would draw a picture to accompany it. Football rankings My teachers always encouraged my drawings and told my mother I had “talent.”

Both my parents were passionate book lovers, so I grew up in a home full of books. Espn fantasy football app My mother’s favorite “children’s” book to read to me at night was T he Little Prince. Frances bean cobain age That, and the short stories of Oscar Wilde. Baseball america top 100 prospects 2016 My father was a gifted storyteller, who would tell me stories about the constellations and planets. Rawlings Both of them, my mom and my dad, always supported my drawing and writing. Drip coffee grind They acted like everything I ever created was a masterpiece, and, strangely enough, I believed them. Polyester fabric The confidence boost you get from that kind of unconditional love—the sense that your creative efforts have true value—really does stay with you forever. Pixel pitch As does the notion, which I inherited from my parents, that growing up to be an artist or a writer is just about the greatest thing a person can become in life, the highest kind of achievement.

When I was nine years old, I made a get-well card for my aunt Helen. Landscape ontario jobs Using pencil and crayons, I drew her dog, Butchy. Small garden design plans The thing is, I had never actually met Butchy except through old photographs. Softball camps Over years of family gatherings, I had heard stories, always told fondly, of the sweet black-and-white spaniel. College softball scores To my young mind, I thought that one way to cheer my sick aunt would be to remind her of something she loved. Fantasy football news And so I drew Butchy.

I have always made pictures. Pitch diameter chart I drew what was around me, what I liked, and what I cared about. Facebook search Drawing was how I found my way in the world. Ancestry reviews That’s because drawing requires looking closely, so closely that you begin to see details you’d never see in a glance. Garden inspiration You begin to see variations in color and shadow. Youth basketball teams near me You begin to see patterns and connections. Facebook live shooting But as I drew more and more, I discovered something else. El patio miami Drawing isn’t just about seeing. Wild pitch It’s about feeling. Garden layout app A picture is not just a description, but a doorway into my thoughts and emotions. Irrigation supply store A sick aunt, the memory of her beloved dog, a handful of crayons, and the need to tell a story join together on the page.

I don’t recall Aunt Helen’s response to my card, but many years later, after her death, I found the drawing in a box among her belongings, carefully folded, wrapped in tissue paper with my name written on a yellowed bit of tape.

I have been drawing pictures for as long as I can remember. Landscape photography tips When I was caught doodling on my desk in second grade, my teacher suggested that I might become an artist someday, then made me clean all the desks in the classroom. Facebook mobile login page p I really began to find my passion somewhere in the fifth grade. Garden of words manga I had tried to draw objects from life, but my trees looked like nuclear explosions. Mountain landscape I tried to draw people’s faces, but they always looked like zombies. Francesca battistelli write your story It takes many years of practice to make a drawing look like what it is supposed to be. How to pitch a slider Instead, I turned to my imagination for inspiration. Daily fantasy baseball Fortunately, I had a lot of it, as I was always daydreaming. Beach landscape What would my house look like someday? If I were a mad scientist, what would my laboratory look like? If I traveled the world, how would I get around? Imagining new worlds and places gave me lots of freedom to draw whatever

My drawings at this age suggest that I might have grown up to be an architect or a designer. Facebook desktop site But really, I was creating new adventures for myself. Softball logos In seventh grade, I won a Read Magazine Young Writers Award, and that inspired me to create stories to go with my art. Garden bed ideas for front of house My real adventures were just beginning.

I don’t have many pictures of me at the age I made this painting. Fencing classes Just the year before, I had entered the new world of middle school, and already I had transformed from a disciplined kid with good grades into someone rather invisible, except for the times when teachers called my name and I didn’t know the answers to their questions.

In those days, I went through many changes; I cut off most of my long child hair and I let my fingernails grow. Pinch hitter 3 unblocked I wanted to feel like I was already a señorita, a young woman, but I was only 12 and my body was responding slowly.

On the first day of school, Señor Cruz Mata, our math teacher, shuffled his octogenarian feet toward the chalkboard and, without uttering a word, began writing numbers and formulas I had never before seen in my life. Pictures of decks Right away, he parted the class between the good students and the bad students. What does pitch mean in science Those who knew what he had written on the chalkboard were the deserving kids. Arizona spring training A group of about five students sitting at the front smiled. Ultimate college softball The rest of us… Small house design ideas interior well, we were doomed. Outdoor research military Teacher after teacher, and day after day, I began recognizing the evidence of my lack of talent as a student, and I accepted my destiny. Michigan softball roster I was tonta, dumb. Baseball diamond layout My teachers knew it, and now I knew it too.

From the window of my classroom, while trying hard not to try, I could sometimes see the next year’s students at a class called Artisticas (art). Football scores high school This was quite a distracting sight. Small front garden ideas The class took place outside in the school yard—how unusual! There was a lot of brown paper involved, and wire, and other materials I couldn’t see very well from my desk, but what I could see was the slow growth of papier-mâché figures way bigger than the kids that were building them. Espn fantasy football mock draft 2015 What was going on? Week after week, I saw the teacher and the students outside making what I could only imagine were incredible things. How to make curtains I could not wait to be in the next grade!

I don’t remember the name of my teacher, but he was a lean man of brown skin, wavy silver hair, and a well-trimmed mustache. Backyard baseball 2005 His sleeves were always rolled up. Facebook logout Some of his first exercises were to teach us how to draw straight lines in our notebook. Spring training schedule He instructed us in how to move our arm completely from one side to the other while tracing the line, no stopping or making tiny connected lines, but one long, uninterrupted line instead. How to build a deck I still use what I learned in that first lesson; even though I often erase and redraw them, nowadays my drawn lines are mostly firm and continuous.

But I was a bad student, right? Bad students are not supposed to have talent, or fire, or to distinguish themselves for doing well, so I couldn’t just go and suddenly be good at this. How to build a fence on a slope Actually, as the school year progressed, I could not even make myself ask questions or tell my teacher that I dreamed about being part of the small group of kids he would choose to build the giant brown paper sculptures. Fantasy football sleepers I was a failing student. Drip drop How could I even dare to be more than that?

I don’t remember at all how I got a framed piece of canvas and the paints or the brush I needed; up to that point in middle school, I had not been good at telling my mother about the supplies or the books my teachers asked us to buy for class (a main reason why I kept turning in incomplete assignments). High pitched noise in house But what I remember extremely well were the instructions that our teacher gave. Drip coffee ratio Your painting, he said, should be a creation of your own imagination. Basketball wives season 5 episode 1 “Do not copy from anywhere! Make something of your own.”

That was going to be a difficult task to accomplish! Something of our own…. College softball cheers Well, I loved drawing, and the things I liked drawing the most were people and animals. Youth baseball tournaments For my class, I decided I was going to make a scene with a baby. Fantasy football rankings week 5 I knew I could handle a human image because I had had a lot of practice drawing faces, including my own. Sales pitch examples I also decided to have the baby be surrounded by animals. Fences windows 10 First, a cat, and if I drew him curled up, sleeping and showing only his back, I could figure it without copying from anywhere. Lattice degeneration causes And what about my favorite animal? Yes, I would include a dog, a huge dog! But, wait. Florida baseball teams What do real dogs look like? I knew they had noses and ears and snouts and more, but, really, could I draw what they look like only from my memory? I agonized a lot about what I did next.

I went to the encyclopedia my mother had bought us years before and looked for a photograph I remembered seeing of the face of a Saint Bernard dog. Softball sales com My teacher had been so clear about not copying from anywhere, so I decided to study this image with my eyes, and I traced invisible lines with my finger around the shapes of the dog’s face. Netafim usa I did this again and again until I thought I could remember most of the picture, then I closed the book and went to my painting to try to recreate from memory what I had seen.

The result is this painting you see here. Minor league baseball florida I remember feeling proud of the result—for I had never done a painting before in my life—but I also remember feeling worried. Backyard landscaping ideas on a budget Had I cheated? When I tried to re-create the photograph from the encyclopedia after being told not to copy, had I finally become the delinquent I had been so much warned I could be?

My teacher looked at my painting. Pavers sale Then he looked at me. Masonry bootstrap 3 “You copied this,” he said. Softball fields near me I lowered my head. Seattle baseball team I wanted to say something, but words refused to come out. Wyevale Could I really explain what I had done with the encyclopedia? And if I said that I didn’t copy, was it true? I could only manage to shake my head without even looking up. Fastpitch “No?” he asked. Fantasy basketball sleepers “Then someone else made it for you.”

Many, many years passed before I knew art was my life. Lattice multiplication worksheets Nowadays, when I look at this painting, I fantasize about how awesome it would be to time travel and make a visit to my young self, still standing there holding this embarrassing painting in her hands. Timber merchants nottingham I would come over, and, of course, she wouldn’t know who I am. Slow pitch As she is standing there trying hard to hold in her tears, I would lean by her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “Yuyi, you just keep it up and draw more, and yes, copy, and wait, because you won’t believe the things you’ll do one day.”