Have you ever had an amazingly burning desire lodged firmly in your heart? Mine settled in when I was only eleven: I was going to become an author. Come hell or high water, I would achieve that goal.

I knew that first I needed a manuscript. So I got to work creating a trade to ply. My idea never met with real enthusiasm—my parents didn’t like it because it would never provide proper pay; my teachers weren’t paid enough to care; my friends didn’t like reading.

This eventually occurred to me: I would practice my writing for myself and when I was eighteen, I could get an agent and scrape in some cash. Now it’s summer vacation. I’m looking trough my portfolio and polishing it up.… And questioning myself.

Where’s my perfect story?