Another 43 days and my book, Children of Little Might, is released. Please play the below video while you read this. The former article can be found here.
My mother likes to remind me of my first essay I had to make in school. I must have been six and I was already into storytelling, though obviously not in writing.
I kept it short, though: The chicken leaks. It was a story about a chicken in the woods that got shot by a hunter; hence she leaked.
This is the second installment in what ultimately becomes a countdown series. So… Hello World.
I broke Mark’s arm. It bought me a one-way-ticket to my high-school principal’s office and its dull grey painted walls. The one spatter of color comes from a large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks a grass field. The dense leaves of one strategically placed tree shields us from an unforgiving sun, but it won’t stop him from roasting me.
This is the first paragraph of Children of Little Might. You meet Monty – a sixteen year old with autism. His full name is Montague ‘Monty Hill’ Glupi. Five years ago he found a manuscript that promised to grant his every wish once he translates it and says the last sentence out loud. Little does he know it lands him in a battle with his high-school principal over a kingdom in another world. And what’s worse – in his case, anyway – the wish he makes, might give him a chance at first love.
Why the book?
I have two children with autism. One of them finds it hard to deal with it, because she says she isn’t handicapped, but the world sees her that way. She’s a photographer (actually, she made the author’s picture) and so she made something for herself.
Children of Little Might is not her story. It’s everyone’s story. And one that tries to find the positive in the negative. For even autism has its advantages, when played well. That’s why I wrote the book. And that’s why I will soon offer it to you, reader.
So: hi. And Hello World. Because what is a book without a reader? Without you?