What My Toddlers Taught Me About Writing
Originally posted May 27, 2011
Last night, while I was bathing my 2 year old, I started thinking about the word "flow".
I've seen many references to the "flow" of writing: words flow, ideas flow, storylines flow.
My son has a bath toy; a plastic octopus-shaped cup with three holes allowing the water to flow out when it's filled. As I held the little cup in front of him, he was grasping at the streams, trying to catch the water. At first, I was amused. Watching my children discover and learn always brings me a mixed feeling of joy and pride, spiced with humour.
I tried not to laugh as he stuck his little tongue out between his teeth to facilitate concentration. Each time his hands passed through the falling water, he'd stop and look at them as if there was something wrong with them. It struck me that he didn't become frustrated. Each failure only made him more determined to succeed.
My son taught me about persistence last night.
I can't put a number to the times that I've sat down with my laptop, a million ideas swirling around in my brain. As they began to trickle out, I tried to capture them, only to find them slipping away. Self-doubt slithered into my brain and told me something was wrong with me. A successful writer captures those thoughts in words that flow. Good writers don't spend twenty minutes agonizing over finding just the right phrasing for a sentence. Their ideas aren't lost to minor distractions like a cat begging for dinner, or suddenly realizing they forgot to fold that last load of laundry sitting in the dryer.
I know this isn't true, of course. I've read enough blogs and interviews to learn; even the most brilliant authors had moments where the words simply would not connect. The difference is determination.
Like my son, those authors went through their learning process. There are no failures; only lessons. Persistence is what gets a writer from concept to publication. Writing is both a talent and a skill to be honed.
My son has natural dexterity. What he needed was practice. He tried different hand positions, until he finally cupped one beneath the streams and captured a handful of water. Proud and excited, he cheered and clapped, squirting the water into his face. When he looked for the water in his hands, he was disappointed not to find it there.
My son taught me about priorities last night.
Taking a moment to celebrate small accomplishments is wonderful. Losing track of the task at hand, while you're patting yourself on the back, is not.
He continued to capture small handfuls of water, throwing one or two scoops at me, a few on the floor and allowing some of it to trickle through his fingers. I saw the moment inspiration struck, just before he reached up with his chubby little hands, cupped them under the octopus to cover the holes and lifted it out of my grasp. He had finally captured the
water.
My son taught me about creative thinking last night.
When one way isn't working, a different approach may be in order. Sometimes I have to step away from the writing and come back with a different perspective.
I sat watching; awestruck by the innocent wisdom of my little boy. Once he had his full cup of water………he threw it at me, soaking me to the waist. I managed to fend off the next two full cups before my 3 year old daughter wandered into the bathroom, grabbed a second bath-toy cup, filled it with water…………and dumped it over my head.
My daughter taught me about the value of entertainment last night.
Sometimes you just have to stop taking it all so seriously and have fun with it.
Last night, while I was bathing my 2 year old, I started thinking about the word "flow".
I've seen many references to the "flow" of writing: words flow, ideas flow, storylines flow.
My son has a bath toy; a plastic octopus-shaped cup with three holes allowing the water to flow out when it's filled. As I held the little cup in front of him, he was grasping at the streams, trying to catch the water. At first, I was amused. Watching my children discover and learn always brings me a mixed feeling of joy and pride, spiced with humour.
I tried not to laugh as he stuck his little tongue out between his teeth to facilitate concentration. Each time his hands passed through the falling water, he'd stop and look at them as if there was something wrong with them. It struck me that he didn't become frustrated. Each failure only made him more determined to succeed.
My son taught me about persistence last night.
I can't put a number to the times that I've sat down with my laptop, a million ideas swirling around in my brain. As they began to trickle out, I tried to capture them, only to find them slipping away. Self-doubt slithered into my brain and told me something was wrong with me. A successful writer captures those thoughts in words that flow. Good writers don't spend twenty minutes agonizing over finding just the right phrasing for a sentence. Their ideas aren't lost to minor distractions like a cat begging for dinner, or suddenly realizing they forgot to fold that last load of laundry sitting in the dryer.
I know this isn't true, of course. I've read enough blogs and interviews to learn; even the most brilliant authors had moments where the words simply would not connect. The difference is determination.
Like my son, those authors went through their learning process. There are no failures; only lessons. Persistence is what gets a writer from concept to publication. Writing is both a talent and a skill to be honed.
My son has natural dexterity. What he needed was practice. He tried different hand positions, until he finally cupped one beneath the streams and captured a handful of water. Proud and excited, he cheered and clapped, squirting the water into his face. When he looked for the water in his hands, he was disappointed not to find it there.
My son taught me about priorities last night.
Taking a moment to celebrate small accomplishments is wonderful. Losing track of the task at hand, while you're patting yourself on the back, is not.
He continued to capture small handfuls of water, throwing one or two scoops at me, a few on the floor and allowing some of it to trickle through his fingers. I saw the moment inspiration struck, just before he reached up with his chubby little hands, cupped them under the octopus to cover the holes and lifted it out of my grasp. He had finally captured the
water.
My son taught me about creative thinking last night.
When one way isn't working, a different approach may be in order. Sometimes I have to step away from the writing and come back with a different perspective.
I sat watching; awestruck by the innocent wisdom of my little boy. Once he had his full cup of water………he threw it at me, soaking me to the waist. I managed to fend off the next two full cups before my 3 year old daughter wandered into the bathroom, grabbed a second bath-toy cup, filled it with water…………and dumped it over my head.
My daughter taught me about the value of entertainment last night.
Sometimes you just have to stop taking it all so seriously and have fun with it.
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