Fiction teaches indirectly, and therefore is more palatable.

December 1, 2001 [12 years old]
I have written about my great love for stories and how deeply my great talent affects me, but by now my love has become a danger against the thing I should love but find it hard to love more—the Lord. I have replaced my Heavenly Father with an idol of paper and pencils and words. It reminds me of the sermon that a Macedonian minister to our church once delivered.

November 24, 2001 [12 years old]
Writing stories is my single most fun and absorbing past-time. I love it! My heart, my soul, my energy, my mind goes into it. And my goal is to get not one, but several of my books published.

Dad wants me to get a non-fiction book published first, so I wouldn’t be boxed into the corner of fantasy writing. Part of me says, “Good idea, Dad. Great forethought.” The other part says, “Non-fiction! How boring! Do you have any idea how dull it is to write that stuff? I don’t want to be known as a person who writes boring stuff. I want to live in my own world!” 

May 28, 2001
I’m whizzing through The Black One because JR really wants me to send him a copy. I have about seventy characters. Boy, did I write! I’m narrowing it down to around a dozen. For each character, I ask myself, “Is this person essential?” Some of them aren’t but they are so funny that I can’t help it. Most of the time, instead of giving a character a name, I’d call them a slave. 

September 15, 2001 [12 years old]
My friend K and I are writing a book together. It is the coolest book ever. It’s called Friend or Foe and it’s about a feud. The main character is 15-year-old Robin Matthews. The great thing is, K writes almost exactly like me and she writes really well. She loves it too! She’s just like me (almost). I can’t believe it! It’s so exciting!