MY ART STORY by

Jon Tuttle

Florence
South Carolina

The first short story I wrote for my high school creative writing class--a weepy, overwrought teenage melodrama--made the instructor cry. Then all the girls cried. Then some of the boys. I thought, "I'm going to do this for the rest of my life." Turns out the instructor cried at pretty much everything. By the time I realized that it was too late: I'd found my niche.