Yes, I am a writer. I write poems. I write novels. I write and draw comics and comic-book-style stories. And that isn’t me in the first picture of this post. Although it is pretty close. But today, I am once again merely sitting down to the keyboard to monkey around and tap out something in writing to get the old writing practice over with. There is no over-arching plan to follow, no theme already in mind… just little old me sitting down and working at it to get ideas on paper. And soon, unless the school district I applied to rejects my application for no foreseeable reason, I will be doing the work of a substitute teacher. Of course, that’s not me in the fuzzed up background of the picture. That is not even a real classroom. No classroom contains that many left-hand raisers. And if you could find one, no real classroom has that many hand raisers without having asked the question, “Who wants ice cream?” And a mere sub cannot possibly afford to ask that expensive question. But that isn’t even the kind of work I meant when I lamely wrote that title. Lamely writing a title is work I have to force myself to do. And that is even harder when you write it first while having no earthly idea what you are even going to write about in the essay. I always told writing classes (the ones who actually never raise either hand about anything) that the best way to do it is to leave writing the title til last so you will already know what you wrote about and what to call it. But forcing yourself to follow through on a title you just pulled out of the air is one way to force yourself to get the necessary work done.