So while I write every day for my teaching job, and while I try to write a little bit every day for my book-writing job, most days during the school year I don't add much to any novel-in-progress.
But then there's Saturday morning. Blessed Saturday morning. My wife's a later sleeper than I am, and so the house is quiet. The dining room table invites my laptop as its honored guest. I sit down and go to work.
This morning began with walk. My dog and I took turns tugging each other down leaf-strewn sidewalks.
When I got home, I turned on my laptop and got to work. This morning, my task was to begin writing a new version of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf." Another teacher and I are running an activity with kids in which each of us (two teachers and eight students, grades 6-8) writes a fairy tale (or in some cases, such as mine, a fable) from a different character's point of view. Something along the lines of John Scieszka's The True Story of the Three Little Pigs. We all hope the end product, tentatively titled Fairy Fails, can be a collection of these stories that perhaps even has some connective tissue between each chapter/story. Stay tuned.
And anyway, on this blessed Saturday morning, my fingers were a-clickin'. I like my start to the story.