It was a warm, sunny, beautiful day in Seattle, Washington. However, me being the bookworm I am, decided to not spend it outside at the playground, where the rest of the neighborhood kids were headed after school, but instead, to one of my favorite places. The bookshop.
There was something so special about this place. The smell of old books and black coffee was always overwhelming in the most wonderful of ways. The library was a much further walk, but even if it was more accessible, I still think I would have chosen the Queen Anne Book Company over the library any day. This place had a feel that no library could even come close to. And it was where I spent many days of my young, middle school years.
But it was on this particular day that I tried something that I normally was ashamed to do, which was to wander my way into the kids section. On any other day, I would have been embarrassed, as I normally was, to even be close to all the bright colors, small chairs, and broken crayons. I have always been gifted with a higher reading level then most for my age, and I eventually got quite proud of it, diving into Pride and Prejudice, The Hobbit, and The Secret Garden at an early age. However, my gift with words kept me blindsighted and arrogant for a while, my pride always telling me not to approach the children’s section of the Queen Anne Book Company. Until, one day, I did.
I don’t know what changed, exactly. Maybe it was that I had a particularly good day at school. Or maybe it was the Oreo’s I had at lunch. Whatever it was, something urged me to take the steps into the rainbow colored — crumb covered floor of the kid’s section. At first I thought that all along I had been right, that these books weren’t worth my time. It seemed most of them were about cars, or unicorns, or stick figures come to life. It’s not that I had anything against the books themselves, but they were not a challenge to read, and that just wouldn’t do. I had to be challenged. I was just turning to leave the area, when I saw it.
A dark green, coffee stained book, that almost seemed to have lost its place amongst all the happy and cheerful, bright covered books that surrounded me. Yet, this book seemed content to be where it sat, overlooking Princess Elsa and Lighting McQueen with a sense of pride, as if it knew someone would find it, read it, and maybe even buy it. Picking it up with uncertainty, I read the white lettering that covered the front.
The One And Only Ivan
Little did I know that this book would be the one to spark my interest in writing. And not only writing, but a writing style that was unique, and not as common or standard.
And so, starting at page one, I made my way through a book that is still, to this day, one of my favorites. Now, what made this book a challenge, you might ask? What made this book stand out against all the others?
Well, this was the first book I had seen that introduced chapters with less than two sentences in them. And I didn’t quite know what to think. But I soon became accustomed to it, and now know how to use the less is more tactic in my own writing. I learned how to entrance readers with one sentence where another writer might have used three. I knew that my tactic wasn’t better, but rather, a tool that not everyone could find. I found a love for short stories, and dramatic elements. I learned how to shape my writing so that readers wanted more, but gave them enough information to keep reading. All because of a large, fluffy, soft minded gorilla who taught me how to write. Thanks, Ivan.
