hello!

you are clearly deranged for clicking on this book, but since you're here, i guess i should thank you.

or should I warn you?

i think both would probably be best.

anyway, as said in the description, these incredibly short stories were written when i was in fifth grade. at the time, yes, i was ten and eleven. i had no idea what the hell dialogue was, i thought that almost every noun needed an adjective before it, and my sentences were completely expressionless and had no meaning or character.

i found the notebook that these stories came from while i was unpacking from moving, and I have regretted the decision to share them with you fully.

though, i am prepared for any jokes and teasings that come out of this. seriously, i want to hear them.

i think the real reason i published this book was to show everyone that you have to start somewhere. people are always saying that my writing is "so good" and they "can't wait for the next chapter" and whatever else. and yes, that's nice and all, but i feel as though it depreciates your appreciation for your own writing.

when you say something is good, you're comparing it to something else. good, in itself, is a completely relative term. there is no changing that, and we just have to accept it. my point is, a lot of people will compare their writing to others' finding flaws in their own writing that doesn't make it "as good" or "as popular."

by reading this, i hope you find that all writers, all educators, all people who are skilled at something, start somewhere.

for me, that just happened to be with a parrot named Cocky and way too many animals that can speak.

enjoy.

and don't forget that there's some unexplainable shit in the stories.

don't say i didn't warn you.

love,
a.r.m.o.