I've started teaching a new semester of students in my high school writers' class. It's an elective for 14 year olds who want more English, and perhaps don't want all the usual elective subjects like sport, or technology. Now in its second year, it's proving to be popular. And I'm seeing some great results from the kids.
But this week, while teaching kids about openings to stories, I had a few ideas of my own. So I wrote three openings. Three random pieces from nowhere that have given me ideas. And I plan to expand them into fully formed tales.
I may be coming to the end of my motivational slump. And that's something I feel good about. I hate feeling guilty about not writing.
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