First of all: a) my name is Rowan, and if you have to shorten it, I will accept "R" – yes the letter "R"; b) I am in fact female – do not be mistaken, despite my somewhat masculine attitude; c) I am 15 and my birthday is in 3 months (don't forget!) and d) please don't laugh, but I have never had a boyfriend, been on a date or been kissed.

Well, I guess that's me in a nutshell, as they say. Or maybe it's not... I dunno! But it doesn't really matter, because if you're going to read this (if I ever finish it) you'll probably learn a great deal more about me.

Okay . . . what do I say now? I guess . . . I should probably start with why I'm writing this, and why I decided to start today of all days, yeah? Okay. 3 months ago my mum died (don't worry – this isn't meant to provoke sympathy or awkwardness, it's just a simple fact) and before she flew into heaven (or wherever the hell she went – no pun intended) she made me promise that I would at least try to satisfy her dreams of me becoming a writer. So, I agreed to try to write one book – and if I couldn't get it published than I can do whatever the hell I want. Of course, if I do get it published, she's not going to expect me to be a writer for the rest of my life if I don't want to. So . . . yeah.

The reason I started writing today is because this morning I was looking through a drawer of mum's stuff and a found a note. It was a list of things she wanted to live to see, or wanted her children to accomplish during out long and fruitful lives. Of course it had Andy and Ollie on it too, but here are the ones which concern me:

Roe get into university

Roe find a good and supportive partner

Roe find what she really wants to do

Roe publish a book

My family remain whole, strong and loving and to find happiness even after death . . .

So what? I have to apply to Oxford, marry some nice guy, decide to become a lawyer, write some award-winning book and never shout at my family again? Now I have something to look forward to.

Maybe I should introduce you to my family . . .? Well, there's mum (deceased), dad (coming up to his 53rd birthday), Andy (just turned 17), and Ollie (still 16). What about me you say? Well, seeing as I spent a paragraph on me at the very start of this . . . book . . . I hardly think it's necessary to include me in that sentence.

Andy, Ollie and I have always been a good deal closer than normal siblings. I'm not sure why. It could be because whenever we fought when we were younger mum always looked so sad . . . almost like she was going to cry. I guess it was impossible to become closer after her death, but I almost think we are closer. Well, speaking of my brothers, Ollie's calling me now, so I guess I'd better go. See you later, uh – book – imaginary audience. Nice meeting you, xxx.