My writing journey began with an unexpected gift: a dictionary from my grandmother when I was just four years old. It wasn't a children's version, but a hefty red adult dictionary filled with words beyond my comprehension.
"Every day," she instructed with a twinkle in her eye, "learn a new word and call me to teach it to me."
And so began our daily ritual. I'd choose a word, often based on how it looked or sounded, and call my grandmother to explain it. She'd listen intently, asking questions, making me feel like the smartest person in the world for teaching her something new.
As I grew older, this simple game evolved into something more profound. I began to see how words could be strung together to create vivid images, to evoke emotions, to tell stories. A single word could paint a picture in my mind, and a string of words could transport me to entirely new worlds.
I discovered the power of adjectives to bring scenes to life, the impact of strong verbs to drive action, and the subtle art of dialogue to reveal character.
Now, as I prepare to release my debut novel, "Garden of Forgotten Wishes," I can't help but reflect on those early days with the dictionary. Each word I learned was a seed planted in the fertile soil of my imagination. Over the years, those seeds have grown and blossomed into stories I never could have imagined as that wide-eyed four-year-old.
To my grandmother, who saw potential in a child and nurtured it with wisdom and love, I owe a debt of gratitude. Her gift was more than just a book of words - it was the key to a magical world of storytelling.
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