z

Young Writers Society


mikedb1492

About mikedb1492

It was a hot, humid day in the Amazon. My father was fending off the natives as the doctor took care of my pregnant mother. The shaman then came and....
Na, I'm just kidding. I was born in North Dakota. I've moved once but I stayed in the same town. My dad owns a stock broking business and my mom is a retired nurse. I was first inspired to write a story in seventh grade when my English teacher made us. It was the first time I ever wrote in a normal story form and I've been hooked ever since.


Interests

Tennis, biking, going to movies, juggling, hackey sacking, and last but not least, writing.

Occupation

Junior at CHS http://img6.imageshack.us/img6/5749/litmagportfolio.jpg


It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien