Childlike Eyes

Ever since publishing “Undefined” in October, my life has been one huge dream of childlike eyes of wonder and “wow, congratulations”.

The large childlike eyes mostly belong to me, while I stand in front of hundreds of kids not much younger than I am. I read them the words I wrote last summer, the words I now know by heart and rhythm, trying to convince myself I’m not sick of hearing them over and over (I wonder now if bands ever get tired of singing their music on world wide tours???).


Anyways, it’s all worth it, every single second, word, and small hand in the air. The kindergarten through sixth grade kids have asked me pretty much every question possible. These kids are creative, and not afraid to ask for the honest truth. Their amazement of a “real life author” quickly turns to curiosity, and I’ve received a broad range of questions from college to sushi to my favorite rapper.

A brief example of the questions I’ve received over the past few months include:

  1. Do you get special treatment from teachers and your friends because you’re an author?
  2. What’s your favorite soccer team? (I don’t watch soccer).
  3. Are you going to write like… long books?
  4. Is high school like it is in the movies?
  5. Do you get nervous talking in front of people?
  6. Do you have a driver’s license?
  7. What made you decide to become a writer? (I answer that it was because I’m bad at math).
  8. Do you have a boyfriend? (I tell them high school relationships are complicated and leave it at that).
  9. What’s the title of your next book? (They usually give me title suggestions here too).
  10. Can you sign my arm?

The first time I ever read to an elementary school class, a girl ran up to me on the way out and handed me a folded up note, then ran back into the crowd. As I curiously opened it in the safety of my car, I automatically burst into tears.

This note hangs above my work desk, and I will keep it for the rest of my life.

It was then I realized I was living out my exact purpose in this world. I vowed in that parking lot, with smeared mascara and a sniffling nose, that I would continue to reach out to as many childlike eyes of wonder as humanly possible.

I am blessed with the absolute most wonderful, rewarding job any eighteen year-old blonde girl from Nebraska could ever imagine.

Eternally grateful,


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