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I Wrote A

Book
ZACHARIAH SPINDLER

To a couple awesome parents


and also everyone else

I Wrote A Book

I wrote a book.

I wrote a book, and this is that book.

This is the book that I wrote.

Its a hundred pages long, and, boy, is it a masterpiece.

With all the necessary elements for a thrilling read.

A tight storyline that hits all the major plot points straight on the head.

A compelling protagonist who is easily relatable and carries a lot of emotional depth.

Yes, this book is quite good.

The book that I wrote has a narrator.

The name of the narrator is Leonard, though it never comes up in the book.

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Get ready for an enjoyable journey, says the narrator.

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One with twists and turns you'll never see coming."

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Then the narrator says, It all started with the onset of Neds fifth grade year at school."

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You see, Ned is the main character of the book.

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It doesnt take long before the narration turns into first person, and we forget that the story
unfolding before us isnt actually happening.

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Its being told to us by the narrator.

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And though we lose ourselves in this fictional world, it is very important to never forget that
youre just a person sitting in a chair reading words from a page.

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Because no matter how eloquently written and masterfully crafted the words are, they are still just
words on a page.

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The ideas and viewpoints they express, however, are something more.

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Yes, those, those are worth fighting for.

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Those carry weight beyond measurement.

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But not the pages of the book.

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No, no, not those.

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Those can be measured quite easily.

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This is the twenty-fifth page.

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Theyre making us all present in front of the class! Ned will say with dread.

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And Neds mother, Karen, will respond something like, Whats so bad about that?"

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"Its good for you, shell express.

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Ned will moan and groan until the dogs come home.

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But Karen will always give him encouragement.

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She probably has personal anecdotes of her own that shell tell Ned about at opportune
moments.

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And Neds father will do his best to calm the nerves of his son as well.

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I bet the boy and his dad will find themselves, at some point, playing catch in the backyard.

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Youre gonna do fine, Vince, the dad, will say sometime just before throwing the ball.

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And Ned will voice a quiet statement, essentially acknowledging that he heard his father but still
isnt quite sure.

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Time will pass and Ned will stress the presentation.

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All the while never actually starting on the project.

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Hell mean to, oh yes, hell mean to begin the work.

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But something will always come up.

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Because, you see, Ned is like many kids.

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Simply put, hes a busy boy.

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Soccer practice on Mondays.

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Karate lessons on Thursdays.

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Hes also starting the tenor saxophone his band teacher thought hed make a good candidate
for the instrument.

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Also, there were way too many kids in the band playing alto.

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Point in case, something will always take up Neds focus and time.

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Finally the week of the presentation is here.

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Other kids in Neds class start to bring in big poster boards with dioramas and pieces for models
that will be shared with the class on Friday.

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The pit of Neds stomach probably drops on Tuesday.

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I have nothing started, Ned will think to himself.

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My life is surely over, becomes a recurring phrase.

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Wednesday.

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Thursday.

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Thursday after school.

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Karate lessons.

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Big dinner, sleepy Ned.

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Now is when the story snaps out of first person and the narrator describes the moment Ned
wakes up Friday A.M. with great detail.

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His eyes open with the suddenness of a hungry dog ravaging its just filled bowl.

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The terror level of an eleven-year-old boy has never been greater.

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Neds head will go to a million places at once.

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Rushing thoughts, I bet, cloud his judgement as he jumps out of bed and scrambles to find a
pencil and paper.

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He, no doubt, thinks about pretending to be sick.

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But his parents are too smart for that.

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Really theyre good parents.

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"If theyre so good, why didnt they make sure Ned was ready for the presentation? the reader
will question.

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I told you the story was full of twists.

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And parents get busy too.

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In this case, they simply forgot that the presentation was this particular week.

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They work and they keep the house and they care for their three kids.

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It all adds up to be a lot.

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So Ned will go to school with nothing but a few scribbles of preparation for his presentation.

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He probably sits in class, eyes forward, never moving, in pure panic.

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The class genius, Mark, goes first and his presentation is phenomenal but also twenty minutes
long.

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A glimmer of hope, I can only imagine,


shines in Neds noggin.

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And his eyes shift towards the clock.

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Sure enough, only half the class gives their presentation before its time for P.E. and a switch in
the days focus of study.

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Ned will escape unscathed.

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Karen will realize that today is presentation day around lunchtime and immediately ask Ned
about it when he gets home.

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I cant believe I forgot today was your big presentation, would be something shed say.

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How did it go?"

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Smooth old Ned, in his fifth grade way, might say, good."

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And that would be that, amongst remarks and comments meant to reaffirm the messages the
parents had sent weeks ago now, about how it would all be fine and etc.

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And Ned, in his newfound hubris and naivety, surely, surely, is about to waste away the
weekend.

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Lovely Saturday.

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Sunday brunch.

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Football on TV.

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Sun goes down.

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Sleepy Ned.

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Here, I bet, the narrator breaks from first person again and quickly throws in elaborate detail on
Neds second terror-filled morning in less than a weeks time.

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Most definitely, as is the way with books, the ending feels rushed and out of place and
unfulfilling.

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So it is with this book that I wrote.

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We cut to class and, I bet, the teacher says something like, Ned, why dont you step on up and
show us what youve been working on."

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Slowly, with the weight of a thousand fifth-grade lifetimes worth of baggage in each step, Ned
will make his way to the front, before taking a huge gulp and turning to face the class.

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Here, the last surprise in plot probably takes place.

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I bet Ned has a rush of brilliance and inspiration in the moment and goes off on a masterfullycrafted bout of creative genius, leaving the class, and teacher, no less, in shock and awe.

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No Powerpoint.

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No giant model or gimmicky handout.

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Just pure human necessity and spirit.

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The biggest lesson for us all; our most powerful tool.

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And thats the book.

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