Once, there was a girl who picked up a book, and discovered in it a host of words. At first, they were only simple arrangements, built in rhyming meters and repetitive stanzas, but soon they grew, branching out into lengthy, deep tales of magic, heroism, and impossible scenarios, heavy with the legends of dragons, wizards, superheroes, and ordinary persons becoming extraordinary. 
Not all of these were sandwiched between the pages of a book, either--television shows played a good role as well, though at the end of the day, she'd rather read than watch T.V.
The girl often dreamed of becoming a hero of one of these tales, of being plucked from her mundane life and thrown into a world where what was once fiction was now reality. 
This, sadly, never did happen--at least, not exactly in the way the girl expected. She was not spirited away from her ordinary, average life. Instead, however, she built up walls of imagination and worlds of her own creation, until she was fairly bursting with creative energy. It was then that the girl began to write. 
Now, this girl has climbed through the leafy tree of her own literary experiences to the top, where she sketches out words on  newborn spider's webs, and sends them off on the breath of a story into a dark void, dotted with the illumination of a thousand tales. She hopes that one day, someone will read her things. In the meantime, she perches on the thickset branches between Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Narnia, and continues to dream up new worlds which she can write about.