I remember picking up a pencil and trying to write before I had been taught to read. (It was immensely frustrating being a writer who couldn’t yet write!) In the sixth grade, I had a truly magnificent teacher, Elaine Cherney, who recognized my drive and treated me as if I were already a bestselling novelist.

Apparently, during the sixth grade, I produced a masterful science fiction “novel,” Diary of a Genius, bound it with a three-ring binder, and presented it to Mrs. Cherney as a thank-you gift at the end of the year. I can now vaguely recall that she protested the gift at the time, saying I needed to keep at least a copy. But it had been conceived as a unique gift, with no other copies in the world, and such a gift it was.

I had forgotten all about this until earlier this year, when that same Mrs. Cherney contacted me via social media to tell me she had kept this unique literary work for forty years, and would I like to have it?

The only damage to the book is the mold on the first page. This was to be expected, as the place where I grew up is nothing if not humid.

She sent these first two photos so I would know the offer was legit.

I was deeply moved that Mrs. Cherney had taken such good care of my masterwork for forty years. Of course I would like to have it!

As it turned out, the shipping to where I live was prohibitively expensive, so she sent it to my mom’s house. My mom said there were 53 pages. (You can see a Table of Contents ending at page 52 through the title page above.) Apparently, 53 pages are too many to take photos of them all. So all I have of my own ancient history are the photos on this page.

I can’t remember the story at all, though I suspect that when I do see it, it will all come back to me. Having only the first page reveals an early talent for hooking the reader. I really want to know what happens next! Have a look and see if you agree:

Transcription (copyright Jessica Knauss 1986):

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Ap 4, 2066

Six times this week I have tried and failed to get my plans out for the new model spaceship. Janeu and the crew, I know, are waiting for it desperately. They should be bothering me about it by the end of the week.

The lock on this diary must be secure, for now I am attempting to put the rough plans for the first ship to go into the Sun right here.

The extra-thick heat shield will be made of colly-protiyne, my latest invention, and sealing wax.

The time has already come for me to go. I have failed for the seventh time for the first time in my life.

Prof 6 (The colored dots in the number were very important. Just the 6 is not this genius’s name.)

x x x x

Janeu Krystalt leaned against the

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Leaned against the what? Will Prof. 6 be able to complete their plans? Will the team be able to go on their insane mission? Or will they all be burnt to a crisp?

I guess I’ll find out the next time I visit my mother. Stay tuned!