Here’s what I sent out through email, but posted here for easy access:

For Wednesday, I plan on doing a little generative work along with talking about titles. I’ve done a bit of homebrewing on the workshop based on what I find useful towards the end of my writing process.

For the workshop, I ask everyone to bring the first sentence of your piece. If you’re having trouble with it, feel free to bring in the last sentence of your piece, or a sentence you’re having trouble with.

The exercise I have in mind works best if handwritten, so if you’re able to please bring a notebook/some paper and any sort of writing utensil!

My mother was too busy working and my father had been out of my picture for a decade. My brother spent his time studying or playing basketball with his friends while I stayed in our tiny little apartment, wrote silly little poems, and daydreamed.

So when my classmates asked if I wanted to ride around the park together, I lied and said I was hanging out with my family.

I didn’t want to tell them I never learned how to ride a bike.

In theory I know how to do it: Grab the handlebars. Swing right leg over the seat. Sit down. Push down with right foot against the pedal to start moving forward. Plant your left foot against the left pedal and follow the movement. Keep your balance.

That’s it, right?

Left. Right. Left. Right. Step after step. One leg in front of the other. Every day until I die.

My friends think I’m crazy for still running every day, but it’s what I like to do. I’ll use these legs until they give out on me.

I’d hate to miss my daily run, but it’s inevitable to make room for obligations.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami: “It’s two and a half months now since I resumed my old lifestyle in which, unless it’s totally unavoidable, I run every single day.”

You need to listen for footsteps.

One might think that sturdy, silent floors were better for being undetected, but it was more important for Breitwieser to hear for potential witnesses than to keep quiet.

He could easily hear people approach on creaky wooden floors.

Older buildings were ideal targets- the louder the floors, the easier it was to hear people further away.

From the article, The Secrets of the World’s Greatest Art Thief by Michael Finkel: “When it comes to museum flooring, creaky old wood is ideal, so even with his back turned, Breitwieser can hear footsteps two rooms away.”

Back when tourists had not touched the pristine waters of the Filipino shores, or at least this particular lesser known island, there sat a treehouse on a palm tree. Attached to the bark through planks of wood. Held together by leaves spun together into rope. It almost seemed haphazardly built, but climbing up there and sitting on the plastic tables and chairs left for the patrons, it was without a doubt that the treehouse was sturdy. It could take the weight of a family eating dinner.

I was 8 the last time I visited the island. Before the resort was finished, my uncles were contracted to build facilities there. Naturally, with us being out of school for the year, my cousins and I were to spend our precious vacation days in a place with no plumbing. 

I remember having to hop from a ferry onto the dinky little fishing boat that a friend of a friend of my uncle had to get to the island. If I had not jumped far enough, I would have fallen into the sea and presumably drowned. 

It only took 2 days before my cousins and I ran out of things to do on the island. Only so many places to climb or coves to discover. One too many times we found a snake in the brushes and screamed our heads off. So, to make us sit still, they built us a treehouse on the tallest palm tree by the beach and fastened a straw roof to protect us from the high noon sun. 

And with a deck of cards, it was easy to pass the time.