Here’s something you should know about me and my book:
Pardon My French – It’s the Language of Ballet
I had to take matters into my own hands. So, in my book I’m offering advice to help you figure out life (not so complicated), ballet (a little more complicated), and my sister. No, I fibbed. You’ll never figure out my sister.
My mom always tells me that I put two and two together and get five. I say one person's five is another person's four. And if I turn out to be wrong — well, I’m six.
So now, excusez-moi! I must put on my tutu and practice my port de bra. Oh, by the way. Don’t let the door hit your popo on the way out.
So, you see, I also speak French.
Meet my Creator
And now here’s a little something you should know about my creator, Nancy Paris —
a dancer who used to be a little girl — just like me.
Nancy is an alumna of The Juilliard School and has performed professionally across the US and Canada. As
a dancemaker, she has choreographed industrials and private events in New York City, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Palm Springs, and Puerto Rico. Most of the incidents in her stories are based on personal experience, with the names changed to protect the innocent.
Nancy lives in Manhattan, NY with her husband
Charles Yurick and loves writing and drawing because you can do it sitting down!
According to my mom, when I was a little baby, I didn’t talk much. I used to just sit behind my eyes, happy to look out at the world. But once I discovered that my brain was attached to my mouth, my world changed. I had so many questions, but not enough quality answers. People! “Because” is not a QUALITY answer!
My name is Lilly Nilly, I'm 6 years old and I’ve been a ballerina almost my entire life. And that’s what I’m going to be when I grow up…. unless, of course, I decide to go to clown college instead of ballet college.
Stay tuned for Lilly Nilly's next adventure
Here's an excerpt from BOOK 2:
At breakfast on my first day of sleep-away camp, I drank a huge glass orange juice. Then I gagged because there were bugs in it. Jenni, my camp counselor, said that they were not bugs, they were bits of orange. But I know better. We’re in a forest. Bugs live in forests, so why wouldn’t they be in my OJ? It’s obvious. And let me tell you, it wasn’t a piece of orange that bit me while I was sleeping in my bunk last night.
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