Fact Versus Fiction in Middle Grade Literature, a guest post by Frank Morelli

Believe it or not, I went to college with aspirations of becoming a doctor. And not a doctor of words and ideas with a bunch of (admittedly) cool letters after my name, either. I wanted to be a medical doctor who could wield an ordinary scalpel the way Wayne Gretzky handles a hockey stick. Wait…in medical terms, that might not be a good thing. Which, in my case, might actually make sense.

See, I hadn’t taken into account a few of the more seismic personal variables that would dash my rapid and decorated ascent to the advisory board at Johns Hopkins before it ever got off the ground. In no particular order, these variables would be my utter incompetence with anything mechanical, mathematical, or chemical; my semi-crippling phobia of hospitals; and a pretty strong aversion to any blood that is not currently on the inside of my body.