SEEING DR. SHAKESPEARE

After spending the last year and a half writing another middle grade novel (BIRD NERD), I'm moving on to something new. I've completed that manuscript, and eventually I'll cast a net and try to catch an agent. But for now I'm tossing around fresh ideas. I've had one idea bouncing around the room for a few years, but I'm not sure if I'm a good enough writer yet to pull it off. Neil Gaiman put off writing The Graveyard Book for nearly 20 years because he admitted he wasn't good enough. I'm feeling the same.

I'm going to start research for this project, maybe write the first couple chapters and see if anything sticks. I don't want to say too much about the idea, and I'm not one of those freaky writers who keeps everything hush-hush like they just came up with the next Harry Potter.

There is a clue to the idea in my letter below:

Dear Sixth Graders:

Thank you for coming to school when you're under the whether. Oh, did I spell 'weather' wrong? Now you know how I feel when I read your papers. Anyway, you've made me sick. Literally. My ears are ringing, my skin hurts, and my head feels like a wrecking ball. When I walk, I lean sideways.  When I run...well, my legs ache too badly to run. Thank you, you little walking viruses, for making me use another sick day when I'm actually SICK! I've come to the conclusion that I need a shot.  A vaccine. Not a flu shot. But a shot to ward off ALL prepubescent germs. Sneeze into your sleeve.  Cough into that space opposite your elbow.  For goodness sakes, keep your hands away from your face and your germs away from your papers with 'weather' spelled three different ways.

I'll see you tomorrow, dressed like a surgeon, ready to scrub in to Greek Mythology.

The teacher you most like to make ill,

Mr. W

P.S. My doctor is on a personal leave.  His replacement?  Dr. Shakespeare.

P.P.S. I did not make up the P.S.