Only geniuses can become writers.” the English teacher said, “And you are getting a D this term.” I was so 3 that I burst into tears. That night I wrote a short 4 poem about broken dreams and mailed it to the newspaper. To my 5 , they published it and sent me two dollars. I was a published and paid writer. I showed my teacher and fellow students. They laughed, “Just plain dumb luck,” the teacher said. I tasted 6 ; I’d sold the first thing I’d ever written. That was more than any of them had done and if it was just dumb luck, that was fine with me.
During the next two years,I sold dozens of poems and letters. By the time I graduated from high school, I had scrapbooks (剪贴簿) 7 with my published works. I never 8 my writing to my teachers, friends or my family again because they were dream 9 .
I had four children at the time. While the children slept, I typed on my ancient typewriter. I wrote what I felt. It took nine months. I chose a 10 and mailed it. A month later I received a contract, an advance on payments, and a request to start 11 another book. Crying Wind, which became a best seller, was translated into fifteen languages and sold worldwide. My first book also became required 12 in native American schools in Canada.
In the 13 year I ever had as a writer I earned two dollars. In my best year I earned 36,000 dollars. People ask what college I 14 , what degrees I have and what qualifications I have to be a writer. The answer is “None.” I just write. I’m not a genius. I use an electric typewriter that I paid a hundred and twenty nine dollars for six years ago. I do all the housework and fit my writing in a few minutes here and there. I’ve written eight books. To all those who dream of writing, I’m shouting at you “Yes, you can. Don’t listen to them.” I don’t write right but I’ve succeeded. Writing is 15 ; it’s fun and anyone can do it. Of course, a little dumb luck doesn’t hurt
