Personal Narrative Essay: Eleven By Lauren Myracle

I had just turned eleven and received a book, Eleven by Lauren Myracle, from my mother as a birthday gift. As I opened the page and read the first line I immediately had an overwhelmingly bubbly feeling. The sheer coincidences made me feel like that book was written with me in mind. I read on and on non stop for the rest of the day because how could I turn away from a book that was hypothetically written about me. It expressed my pre-teen drama, things only an eleven-year-old would consider drama and it inspired me. It gave me the sudden urge to pour my heart into the little mini books I was known for writing and leaving around the house. Writing was something that I was very passionate as a little girl and is still something I am very passionate about as a young adult. The little things I did in my childhood

My mother was always an excellent writer and whenever I had a paper she was the first to help. We would do our research together and write out two or three drafts before I reached my final product. Throughout elementary and middle school, I wrote display worthy papers that always had my English teachers appalled by how well written they were. I had clever puns and adult like comparisons. She taught me a way of writing that helped me become the writer I am today. Once I reached high school my love for writing dimmed. I was taught a formula on how to write the perfect essay. The dreaded five paragraph essay was engraved in my brain: An intro with a hook, a thesis, body paragraphs, and a conclusion. Constantly being told my creativity wasn’t formal, so when I wrote papers it was more facts and evidence and less short stories and experiences. My writing became dull to me and reading over my papers and stories was a dread because I could see the drastic amount of lost creativity. Although I still received high praise it felt as if the papers I was writing wasn’t