My oldest hated writing.
Words of course.
I’m not sure why.
So I decided not to pressure him. His stories were always short and concise even if he were dictating them to me. It bothered me. Especially when other boys around him simply wrote.
He knew what he learnt, so I tried to make him produce some form of work. Labelling, drawing, even dictating to me. Sometime past the age of seven, there was a breakthrough. I think he simply got comfortable with writing, holding a pencil. The only thing I remember doing to help him, was the light written work he had to do every day.
Maybe thats what loosened up those hand muscles. Whatever it was, it helped. All I need to do now is work on his motivation. I guess for a while all the stories are going to be about cars and warriors…
Once when he was six I found him lying on his bed, simply staring at the ceiling. When asked, he told me he was imagining things. He was day dreaming. I’m not a huge fan of lazing away a day dreaming on your bed, but this was fine. He imagined things. Racing, driving, running, whatever he’s told me he dreams about, the best part is that he uses his imagination even if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Some day he will itch to see it on paper.
Knowing the mechanics of writing from an early age doesn’t necessarily make a good writer. Encouraging creativity does.
So dream on dear, dream on.