Miss Doolittle: The True Engine Behind My Career | Stories of Life

I sometimes wonder what made me an author. Yes, I do know that I am blessed with the gift of writing. However, let me stress that talent alone is not sufficient. A writer, in the meantime needs to be disciplined and determined, in order to be able to complete and publish a book. In life, I’ve come across many people who have set out to write a book, but never succeeded to complete it. I, other than being driven, was lucky to know a wonderful person called Miss Doolittle, who pushed me into becoming an author. Thus, the only person who deserves to be praised for my success… the real motivator and engine, was none other, but Miss Doolittle. I wish she were alive to read my books. Unfortunately, Miss Doolittle passed away right at the start of the Iranian revolution.

Miss Doolittle, was our head mistress at “Iran Bethel American Girls School,” in Tehran. Judging from my creative style of essay writing, she knew that I had the potential to become a writer. When I was sixteen – which I like to call, a century ago – one day, she asked me, “Why don’t you turn the classical book called, “Scrooge,” into a play.

“I can’t, Miss Doolittle,” I protested. “That’s the job of a professional writer.”

She arched her eyebrows, looked at me with sparkling and smiley eyes, and answered, “Yes, you can, master.”

I cast my eyes down and responded timidly, “Excuse me, I don’t deserve to be called a master.

“Yes, you do,” she answered, bobbing her head. “I truly find you to be a master among your classmates when it comes to writing.”

Surprisingly, it took me only a week to convert Scrooge into a play script, although I had never had any experience in script writing. Soon, our literature teacher formed a group of my classmates to perform my play on our school stage. I must admit that it did not take long for me to become known as a talented writer at school and our church. At seventeen, I was already a published author… thanks to no other person, than my dear Miss Doolittle. How can I ever forget it!

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