children Archives | A.S. Akkalon

Recapturing the joy of writing as a kid

Many adults have lost the joy they felt writing as children. Here are some suggestions on how to bring it back.

A lot of writers started writing as kids. We loved to read, so we decided to make our own stories.

Some of our stories were written and illustrated in crayon in stapled-together booklets. Some were written in stiffly adult cursive in pink lockable diaries. And some were typed in obsolete word processing programs in which documents could never be longer than 13 pages.

Writing when you’re six or ten or thirteen is a joyous activity. Characters and their magnificent struggles swirl through your head and every word that comes out is a diamond.

But at some point the magic fades.

You agonise, you doubt yourself. You pack away the crayons.

Grown-ups aren’t better at everything. So get your crayons back out and remember the fun you had writing (or might have had writing) as a kid.

Here are some ideas to get you started.

Why to let your kids do dangerous stuff

This is my take on an article by The Art of Manliness on “dangerous” activities you should let your kids do. But I’m not a parent, so what do I know.

The Art of Manliness published a new post recently with the title “23 Dangerous Things You Should Let Your Kids Do”. I don’t have kids, but who could resist that title?

If you ignore the blatant misconception that parents “let” their children do things–in fact, kids do things and sometimes their parents find out afterwards–the article makes some excellent points.

Stopping kids doing anything that could vaguely be considered dangerous is likely to result in fragile adults who lack the confidence to deal with life’s challenges.

Let’s consider the activities The Art of Manliness thinks children should be allowed to do.

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Unkempt lawn or mysterious jungle?

Child and a puppy in a garden — This is not a picture of me. I’m not a dog.

When I was a kid, my parents lived near a lovely couple with a large garden who rarely (possibly never) mowed their lawn. The result was a sprawling jungle of knee- or possibly thigh-high grass stalks, intermingled with daisies, dandelions, dock, clover, and ubiquitous bees.

In other words, paradise.

A bunch of neighbourhood children used to play there, and it never occurred to us that not everyone was equally delighted by the unmown lawn.

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