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Exactly When

journalKylee, of Madi­son, Wis­con­sin, asked me, “How old were you when you knew you want­ed to be a writer?”

As it hap­pens I know exact­ly when. At the begin­ning of 1955 I decid­ed to keep a diary. On Jan­u­ary the First, I wrote, “Con­sid­er­ing this a very impor­tant year in my life—the school musi­cal, grad­u­a­tion, sum­mer, first year of col­lege, I thought it would be a good idea to record these events … because I wish to clar­i­fy my own think­ing and ideas.”

The diary has long lists of books I was read­ing, as well as quotes I liked: “For words, like nature, half reveal and half con­ceal the soul with­in.” (Ten­nyson) The pages are full of my own wise thoughts, too. “Read Pla­to. Not bad.” It chron­i­cles my sev­en­teen-year-old efforts at writ­ing, read­ing, my love of the the­atre, and my crush­es on girls. 

On March 28, 1955, I wrote: “Well, I final­ly said it out loud. I intend to stay with the the­atre.  In the the­atre one can do every­thing in the world—write, build and be any­thing or any­body … There is so much to write about.”

I had decid­ed to become a writer, a play­wright. From play­wright to writer of books for young peo­ple is a whole oth­er sto­ry. But March 28, 1955 was the day I knew I want­ed to be a writer.

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