The Power of Mentorship for Writers: Or How Roald Dahl Helped Me Be a Writer

I began reading even before I started school. By the time I was 10 years old, I loved books so much they were all I wanted for Christmas. Our little logging town in southern Oregon was so small it had just two TV channels. People were poor, and we were poorer than most, but we were rich in books. My dad took us to the library every Saturday. Books showed me different worlds.

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In sixth grade, I started to write my own stories. One was about a six-foot-tall frog named Herman who loved peanut butter and went on an adventure trying to find some. I decided it would appeal to Roald Dahl. My father told me that you could write to authors care of their publishers.

So, I sent off my story—carefully printed in pencil on wide-ruled paper—to the address in New York printed inside the front cover of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. That book about a poor boy with big dreams really spoke to me.

Eventually my story found its way to Dahl in England. He sent me back a postcard. It's dated 24th August 1972, and says, "Dear April, I loved your story about Herman the frog. I read it aloud to my daughter, Ophelia, who also loved it. I read it to my secretary, Hazel, who giggled. Lots of love, Roald Dahl.”

But Dahl didn’t stop there. Over lunch, he showed my story to his editor. She was also the editor of Puffin Post, a British children's magazine. She contacted me and asked to publish it.

I was so young that I didn’t realize how extraordinary all this was. I actually received a second postcard from Dahl and thought of him as a friend.

Somehow, I've managed to hold onto the first postcard for nearly 50 years. It's amazing that he committed this act of kindness for one girl in Medford, Oregon.

I’ve tried to carry that kindness on. I answer every email I get from readers. I’ve showcased student writing on my website. And over the years, I’ve mentored several teens.

Dahl didn’t correct my story or make suggestions. He praised it. Student writers are like little seedings just lifting out of the ground. It’s too easy to crush those first efforts. When you are learning how to write, your first draft is naturally going to have flaws. When I lead writing workshops for teens, I focus on the good aspects of their writing. I want them to be excited about writing more, because that’s the only way they will improve.

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When I speak at schools (before the pandemic, I spoke to about 25,000 students a year), I emphasize what I’ve learned about becoming a writer (or about becoming almost anything, really):

The only person who can say you can’t succeed is you—when you stop trying. As a teenager, I decided someone as ordinary as me couldn’t be a writer, so I stopped writing. I didn’t start again until I was 30 years old, when I finally worked up the courage. Being a writer isn’t a matter of being special or magical. It starts with reading a lot (and thinking about what you read) and writing a lot (and rewriting a lot).

When I first started writing, I took classes with two amazingly talented writers. They both gave up after a couple of rejections from agents. Tenacity is nearly as important as talent. I’m just beginning what will be my 30th published book—but if those two writer friends had persevered, they could have taken a similar path.

At every visit, there are students who tell me they are working on their own books. And then there are the teens who approach me with a stack of books, and who duck their heads and nod shyly when I ask if they are writing.

Just like Roald Dahl, I want to be an adult who sees their potential.

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