I have been a writer since first or second grade – since the day my teacher showed us the basket of books she made for us. They were comprised of plain sheets of unlined paper, their covers made from wallpaper samples. All I needed was an invitation to write.
Through my schooling, good teachers provided me these invitations, and my passion grew. My skills developed. I followed my talent and interest to college, where the invitation to write remained, but the events became more formal, and after graduation, I assumed the role of the event host. It was my turn to extend the invitation to a new generation.
Currently, I nurture and support young adult and adult writers, alike. I share prompts that inspire me, I offer techniques that tempt and trick writing out of people who think they can’t be writers, and while I find tremendous enjoyment from this, this thing that I do … this teaching, this mentoring, this whatever it is, I sometimes get hungry. How ironic. I hold the silver tray and offer treats to writers like hors d’oeuvres to guests, yet I am quite often craving nourishment, too.
So, what does the starving writer do? When the old songs and dances no longer move her? When the guests are gone, when the community is quiet, when the old dog wants new tricks?
Join Relatively Random this month as we celebrate National Poetry Month with a weekly series about writing. We will share writing ideas, resources, reviews, and tips for our readers who write (or know people who do).
We hope you’ll check back each week this month.