Another miracle class up north: I do adore those kids. This week I had them choose their own favorite from four different writing prompts: (1) expanding on a weird-but-true newspaper story, (2) making a fake translation of two short Scandinavian poems, (3) using a paper frame to zero in on precise details, or (4) rewriting Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 in their own vernacular. They wrote for 45 minutes, then shared, and then I tossed out individualized revision prompts for each first draft and they wrote for another half hour. These kids like to write. They also like to be in charge. They gave me a revision prompt for my first draft, a precise request for more character development and scene explication.

[FYI: Most popular choice: rewriting Shakespeare!]

Next session, per their request, we are going to concoct a group performance of one student's draft (an expansion of the weird-but-true newspaper story) for the art students down the street, who are going to visit us in the afternoon. I already warned my students I'm going to do some yoga experiments with them as a way to prep them for public speaking: posture, breathing, centering. I'll let you know how it works.

Today: back to the desk. I'm copyediting the translation of a Brazilian novel from the 1980s, a long but low-key job . . . more like actually reading a book than doing the heavy lifting that academic manuscripts so often require. I've also got residency applications to read, and reader comments on my embryo manuscript to check out, and bathrooms to clean, and pantry shelves to fill.

I'm grateful to have had a dose of young people this week. They revive me.