Where this started
A boy, a composition notebook, and a library barcode.
A kid wrote and illustrated his own story — drawings on top, his handwriting underneath, the way you'd fill in one of those school notebooks. He brought it to his local library. The librarian gave it a barcode and shelved it like any other book.
It became locally famous. Other kids kept checking it out, again and again — not because it was polished, but because it was his, and it was real, and it was there, on the shelf, waiting to be picked.
A story doesn't need permission to matter. It just needs a shelf.