Avery Wolfe

I remember the day I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone for the first time.That night, sitting on the roof of a John Deere tractor in the cow pasture in front of my house, I read for hours—until the sun set over the hills and the moos of cows gave way to the midnight chirps of crickets. That was the day that changed my life: that was the day words took hold of me, and they haven't let me go since. 

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A few years later, at my sixth grade graduation, I had my English teacher grab me by the shoulders, look me in the eyes, and tell me, "Write the next Harry Potter."

 

I'm working on it, Ms. Clay. Promise.