Ken Foster
y sister offered to write this for me, but I knew that if she did, she would first tell you about the time I stuffed a little wooden man up my nose and then tell you about my imaginary friend, Sinkapoo Sofa. So, I'm writing this myself, and I'll try to limit myself to things that involve my evolution as a writer.
My first published work was a story called "My Cat" that was dictated to the school secretary when I was in first grade. Our family cat had recently passed away. The full text of the...
