As I write this opening line I have come to the realisation that I haven’t a clue how to start writing a book. I mean I love writing, but why do people even need introductions. Why can’t I just skip to chapter 3? Trust me it’s so much more interesting.
We were all sent to....
Alright, my editor has just told me that skipping whole chapters will get me nowhere and I have to write two whole chapters. Two! Who does she think I am? JK Rowling! Now you’ll have to read chapters 1 and 2 to get to the good bit. Oh well, blame Patricia. Anyway, let me introduce myself. My name is Tia Brooks. I’m the second youngest out of 7 children. Felicity, the oldest, Luna, Adam, Sam, Oscar and Katie, the youngest.
We may seem like a large uncontrollable bunch of kids, but trust me, we’re worse.
I’m 15 years old and at that awkward stage in life where I have literally nothing going on. My daily routine is pretty much:
·Argue with my little sister
·Go to school and learn stuff
·Argue with my older brother
·Have a nap
·Sleep and repeat
And on weekends and holidays, it’s just the same except that I don’t go to school.
Now that I think about it my life is pretty much centred around eating. And arguing. But, in my defence, most of the arguments are started by my siblings. I mean it’s pretty simple, if I tell you not to touch my Jaffa cakes. DO NOT TOUCH MY JAFFA CAKES!
As much as I’d like to go off on a rant about stolen Jaffa cakes, Patricia tells me that my book needs an actual story and that I can’t “write whatever comes to mind.” So, I’ve decided to tell you, dear reader, the story of what happened that summer in Denmark.
Let’s begin with why we went to Denmark in the first place.