Writing Every Single Morning

When I was a little girl in 1965, I was about 10 years old and in the 5th grade in Oslo, Norway. I went to school at the American School on the outskirts of Oslo. We would begin each day writing a little story about some picture our teacher, Mrs. Brown, had glued to a piece of brightly colored construction paper and then put up on our blackboard. Every single morning. The stories were never very long, though it seemed to take me a long time to write whatever it was that I would write that day. I suppose she gave us 20 minutes to do our writing. Twenty minutes to a little kid can seem to be a long time. But, the point of this is that woman, with the tiny little exercise she had all of us do was instrumental in forming my life as a writer. Thank you Mrs. Brown, wherever you are.