Dear Wren...

What I'm about to say sounds like a line out of an over-dramatized, teen romance novel.

I actually can't believe that this happened to me. Oh. My. Goodness. (Katri, chillax. Katri, stop hyperventilating. Katri, CALM DOWN!!!) 

Sorry about this...I'm just REALLY happy right now. No, I didn't win American Idol. (I'm not even old enough! Yet...) I didn't enter America's Got Talent or The Voice... (That's still on my list, though!) 

Ok. This is the first page, and it's such a coincidence that there's a new notebook for a new chapter of my life. I should probably get to the big news...here we go. 

___________________

Any stereotypical girl writing in a notebook would say, "Dear Diary", etc... But I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'm going to give you a name- how about Wren? Everyone needs a name. "Diary" just doesn't work for someone who I'm telling secrets and extremely important events to. Ok, Wren. I'm Katri Rivendell- nice to meet you! I'm thirteen, an aspiring author, singer/songwriter, and likes to draw my own version of anime.

 I've wanted someone to tell all of this to for a while, all at once- a sister just isn't the same. Hopefully this isn't like Tom Riddle's notebook/diary from The Chamber of Secrets with a soul inside it waiting to take me over, like what happened to Ginny Weasley... But, anyway, here we go, Wren. This is what's happened to me over these past few years, and this is what's come out of pouring my heart and soul into the pages of six to ten different notebooks. (I don't keep track because there are too many, lol.)

I don't know how this even happened- yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, that sounds like a line out of a fairy tale or something- but, actually, I'm utterly, completely speechless. This is the first page of this new diary, so I guess I'll start from the beginning instead of starting with the exiting, EXTREMELY INSANELY GREAT news. 

All the way back from Elementary School, life hadn't always been fair to me. 

In Elementary school, back in second grade, I had been bullied for being Indian and for being who I was. Third grade didn't get better, though I was happy because the school counselor kept tabs on the girl who mainly made fun of me, Olivie. (Yes, that was actually her name. No, she's not an olive. Kinda weird, but still. I didn't make fun of HER. Relax, Katri. Back on track...)

Fourth grade, things started to change; I wrote Fan Fictions of books I loved at that time, like Percy Jackson, Warriors, and Wings of Fire. (I can't believe I didn't like Harry Potter back then. I'm sorry, Draco and Luna! They're my favorite characters, by the way. #Slytherin4Life!!! Anyway, back on track...) I wasn't popular- not at all. But I wasn't bullied, which was a step in the right direction. Fifth grade- I continued to write, (Hello, Harry Potter!!!) I started to sing and write some of my own songs that (surprisingly) didn't turn out completely horrible. But in fifth grade- that week everyone in the grade entered the district- wide poetry competition- things changed. 

You see, I have a best friend named Ria. She's a year above me in Math, and also in Honors, and Accelerated Language Arts. 

Gifted. That's what she was. And that's what I wasn't. Sure, I was clever. I could grasp concepts easily and was one of the best writers in the class. But at school, creative writing doesn't matter. Only technicality, grammar, the proper use of words in sentences mattered. Though I was writing Fan Fictions at a quicker pace than anyone else, though I was sticking with my idea and not getting bored, though I was persevering- and trust me- there were literal tears and drops of blood that stained those pages- though I fought, and fought, and fought, none of it mattered. 

The results for the competition came back a week or so later; surprises of surprises, Ria got first place. 

I still remember everything that had happened in second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth grade. Last year...last year was by far the best. 

Last year, I wasn't bullied. 

Last year, everyone was my friend, except for an unnamed few who practically told me to my face that they were jealous. 

Last year, my skills were noticed. 

Last year, I started an original series. Now, I'm holding the first book of eight in my hands, taking a short break from reading Chapter 17, page 109, to write this all down. Hopefully, sometime in the future, I'll have the entire series lined up on the white shelf in my room. I know it won't be soon. At best, eight years. 

I still can't believe that I finished writing Book One- hopefully I can get it published soon, seeing that I want to start writing the second one. I can't believe I just said that- well, wrote it down. I'm literally thirteen. Most thirteen-year-old girls aren't wanting to publish a book at that age. But, then again, I'm not normal. I'm not the stereotype who likes pretty pink glitter, shiny makeup, and fashionable clothes. (I'm not saying that I'm not trendy, but you know...) I'm more of an artsy type- I've written that In here about 6000 times- but it's true, Wren. I try my best to be confident, I try my best to be the best I can be, and I'm ambitious beyond belief. That's a good mix for an author, right, Wren? :) 

If you're reading this right now, Wren, know that the seasons have turned multiple times. With every fall of snow, every shower of rain, every ray of sunlight and tousling of the summer winds, I learn something. I learn how to write about the elements, I learn about how rewarding life can be if you put in the time and energy. 

But I'm willing to work, and I'm willing to wait. So, book eight, I'll see you later. Book one, Chapter 17, continue. 

The teenage author I've always wanted to be, 

-Katri Angelina Rivendell