摘要: It was the first time in a year and a half that I the night face to face. A. saw B. have seen C. had seen D. would see

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When I was fifteen, I announced to my English class that I was going to write my own books. Half the students smiled       , and even worse, the rest nearly fell out of their chairs laughing. “Don’t be        . Only geniuses can become writers.” the English teacher said, “And you are getting a D this term.” I was so       that I burst into tears. That night I wrote a short          poem about broken dreams and mailed it to the newspaper. To my      , they published it and sent me two dollars. I was a published and paid writer. I showed my teacher and fellow students. They laughed, “Just plain dumb luck,” the teacher said. I tasted       ; I’d sold the first thing I’d ever written. That was more than any of them had done and if it was just dumb luck, that was fine with me.

During the next two years, I sold dozens of poems and letters. By the time I graduated from high school, I had scrapbooks (剪贴簿)       with my published works. I never       my writing to my teachers, friends or my family again  because they were dream        .

 I had four children at the time. While the children slept, I typed on my ancient typewriter. I wrote what I felt. It took nine months. I chose a       and mailed it. A month later I received a contract, an advance on payments, and a request to start       another book. Crying Wind, which became a best seller, was translated into fifteen languages and sold worldwide. My first book also became required        in native American schools in Canada.

      In the       year I ever had as a writer I earned two dollars. In my best year I earned 36,000 dollars. People ask what college I       , what degrees I have and what qualifications I have to be a writer. The answer is: “None.” I just write. I’m not a genius. I use an electric typewriter that I paid a hundred and twenty nine dollars for six years ago. I do all the housework and fit my writing in a few minutes here and there. I’ve written eight books. To all those who dream of writing, I’m shouting at you: “Yes, you can. Don’t listen to them.” I don’t write right but I’ve succeeded. Writing is        ; it’s fun and anyone can do it. Of course, a little dumb luck doesn’t hurt.

1.A. unkindly     B. happily C. willingly         D. crazily

2.A. curious       B. depressed     C. excited D. silly 

3.A. unlucky      B. ashamed        C. moved  D. unconfident

4.A. sad     B. innocent        C. disappointing         D. puzzling

5.A. puzzlement         B. expectation  C. astonishment         D. disappointment

6.A. coldness    B. failure   C. success D. prejudice

7.A. furnished   B. linked   C. combined      D. filled

8.A. remembered     B. concluded     C. described      D. mentioned

9.A. killers         B. makers C. designers      D. creators

10.A. writer       B. reporter        C. publisher       D. manager

11.A. working on       B. going on        C. turning on     D. putting on

12.A. writing     B. reading C. selling   D. buying

13.A. busiest     B. unluckiest     C. worst    D. highest

14.A. worked    B. attended       C. admitted        D. participated

15.A. easy          B. hard      C. convenient   D. practical

 

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