The pen ran out of ink eventually, and the various boxes scattered round the house ran out of scraps of paper. I went to secondary school and hated "the Hobbit" (don't know why, except that maybe I wanted to read at my own speed instead of being read to). And I learned to do homework.
Have I mentioned, I tend to be slightly disorganized? I forgot to bring home my English homework book once, and we had a special assignment to continue the story of a boy lost in the jungle. The teacher had read the first chapter to us and we were supposed to be inspired. We were also supposed to have the right books with us in order to pursue our inspiration.
Dad found a whole empty notebook--50 pages long! It wasn't a school homework book though so I cried because it wouldn't be right. But Dad, wise man that he was, said better get in trouble for writing on the wrong paper than for not writing at all.
I filled all fifty pages with my second mini-novel, and I've never seen it since. But I did hear it read to the class over several days. They listened just as closely and kept just as quiet as if it were "the Hobbit." But probably that just meant they were scared of the teacher.