I’ve really enjoyed writing this blog over the past couple of months. This has caused me to wonder why I haven’t taken more of an interest in writing throughout my life.

I’ve always considered myself a math person. Spelling, writing and the like came easy as a child, but I liked the problem-solving aspect of math. I assume this is part of the reason I became an accountant.  Anyway, I thought back to my younger days and remembered having written several short stories in elementary school.

Not too long ago, I asked my mom if she still had those books. She did. She dug them up and we sat down to read them, laughing hysterically with each turn of the page. I had quite an imagination. Given a few of the plots, I can’t believe my parents were never interviewed by Child Protective Services or, at the very least, called in for a parent-teacher conference.

As I looked at the handwriting and illustrations, a flood of memories came over me. I could remember coming up with these stories like it was yesterday. I could even recall my thought process when deciding how to draw a particular picture or how to best convey a certain idea.

Included in the box of childhood mementos was a one-page autobiography I wrote just subsequent to the completion of my literary collection. I have typed it up for your reference:

Just so you know, this autobiography was written in cursive. It also included my third grade picture. I can’t believe I’m sharing this (for obvious reasons), but I feel that it must be done. It would be a crime to keep such a great source of amusement to myself. Please be kind, as this picture was pre-braces, contacts and not wearing t-shirts under sweaters.

I have no words.

Reading this summary of my very short life was mildly enlightening. I learned three important things about myself:

1) I was conceited

2) I believed that saying you’ve been published = having being published

3) I should have hired an editor

One of my nine books was a more in-depth autobiography. See below. Now that I’m an adult, I feel an overwhelming need to make some corrections to this account, as if I were a teacher and young Carly was my very own student. I’ve always wanted to take a red pen to a terribly written paper. Here’s my chance! (I realize I still don’t have perfect grammar; try to ignore that, as well as the weird wording sizes). I’ve also added some commentary.

As I read through this book, one detail in particular caught my eye. Look closely at the last picture…did you notice the person in the background? I specifically remember wanting to draw a hospital patient, but wasn’t sure how to make it clear that this person was very ill. Hence, the green skin and frowny face. Looking back, this individual looks more like a ghost wearing a toupee or a green bean in a dress. Either way, she/it appears to be pretty upset about something and is probably about to attack me or cast a spell on me. And I look like I’ve just about had it with her whining. Oh well, at least I have that cute hat.

I look forward to sharing the rest of my books with you in the future, mostly because those ones actually have story lines.