The following article has been excerpted from Encouraging Your Child’s Writing Talent. This book brings a new perspective to teaching kids writing—one that helps parents encourage and cultivate a child’s creative insights and love of words through the writing process.

The writer is an explorer. Every stop is an advance into new land.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson, December 1842

We all learn to write through reading. We first fall in love with the art of writing when we hear stories and language in books read aloud to us, and then we hear those lovely ideas and that wonderful language even more deeply when we read those books on our own, for ourselves. Through books we learn what makes a good story; what language convinces, persuades, and moves readers; and how good writing sounds. Writing those books, though, is often hard work that takes years of practice, just as any craft or art does. It is important for us to remember that writing, like all life skills, is a lifelong process. Because good writing engages the reader’s intelligence and imagination, we can understand that becoming a good writer is a process of continuous engagement in reading and expressing one’s own thoughts, as well as the thoughts of others.

I love the title of Ralph Fletcher’s book, What a Writer Needs (1993), and I am drawn to his ideas for a good portion of what I believe gifted young writers need. Fletcher documents his own journey to his proclamation of self as a writer, and vividly illustrates the support he drew upon to get there. The ideas of others such as Lucy Calkins (2000), Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg (1999), Katie Wood Ray (1999, 2002), Georgia Heard (1995), and Ronald L. Cramer (2001) have also influenced my passion about gifted young writers. After my own classroom observations and discussions with parents and teachers of young writers, I have expanded, trimmed, grafted, and groomed my own list of what gifted young writers need. This list includes some general ideas about child-appropriate intellectual freedom that are critical to the necessary sense of freedoms we wish our young writers to develop (see Table 3).

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Some of these supports are needed by all writers, but I hope to convince you that gifted young writers need these elements in unique ways or in more quantity than the average beginning writer. All children deserve them, but gifted writers need them. If you believe in the emotional and philosophical support these ideas offer for your child, the actual tasks, strategies, and activities in which you and your child engage will be much more effective and provide lasting results.

First, writers need immersion in a print-rich environment. Marie-Henri Beyle was an 18th-century novelist who wrote under the pseudonym Stendhal. The Stendhal Effect is attributed to him because he wrote of how beauty has the power to stun people—to stir their emotional and physical responses. Children need a stimulating, accepting environment full of books, posters, fine art, and opportunities to share these inspirations with significant adults and peers in their lives. They deserve to witness how the Stendhal Effect influences others, and recognize when they are affected by it, as well. If the environment in our homes is not already rich in print materials, we can transform it in ways that will uplift, give energy, and excite a passion for reading and writing. There are multiple resources to help you fill your home with print materials in Chapter 5, but the most meaningful environment will be one wherein your and your child’s personalities are evident—where new books are savored as delightful treats or rare works of art or where writer’s notebooks are kept by both the parent and child. Our goal should be to create a home that invites our children in and makes them want to be there and enjoy thinking, feeling, and learning with us in this place.

Next, writers need adaptations of our focus on their learning. By this I mean that the frameworks for discussion of literacy in the home can be adapted or adjusted to meet the unique and specific needs of the child. For example, entire celebrations of birthdays or holidays can be organized around important themes our children find interesting in literature. For instance, in the days leading up to her birthday, a very young child who loves stuffed animals could be exposed to famous teddy bear literature, such as A. A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh, and she could investigate nonfiction literature for the origination of teddy bears. As a culmination, this teddy bear lover and new authority on the subject could be taken to a retail establishment where the bear is actually constructed as the child watches and makes choices for each part of the bear’s construction.

An older child could be introduced to literature about baseball, including multiple published versions of Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer, as well as The Greatest Baseball Stories Ever Told, edited by Jeff Silverman. After investigating every genre’s application of a baseball theme, a culminating event might not only include tickets to a baseball game, but a visit to the area where the sports journalists convene and work, and a subsequent reading of every print review that can be found concerning that game.

Did you know that every culture in the known world has its own version of a Cinderella tale? Start with a search at the library or bookstore for all of the versions you can find of the familiar story. Then do an Internet search for published versions from other countries, cultures, and ethnic groups. Find as many as you can and compare them. Find what they have in common and how they differ. Determine what makes them unique to their origination. Vote on your favorites. Retell them to others. Speak with college professors of children’s literature or folk literature. Tour European castles in person or on film. High school girls might enjoy a study of “And Then the Prince Knelt Down and Tried to Put the Glass Slipper on Cinderella’s Foot,” by Judith Viorst, a story in Don’t Bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America and England by Jack Zipes, published in 1987. Possibilities for themed investigation ideas are endless, and literature searches are easier than ever because of Internet search engines.

Writers need mentors—wise and caring people who know them and have hope for their potential. A child who loves to write deserves a mentor who has an intuitive sense for his delicate curiosity, his hopes, talents, and dreams, as well as a realistic view of his frustrations, misconceptions, and limitations. Young writers need mentors who know something about the craft of writing. Table 4 presents a list of people who often make good writing mentors.

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There are classrooms and teachers aplenty who reduce writing instruction to a simplistic system of exercises and assignments. Gifted writers need to see writing beyond the assignment. Talented writers deserve to concentrate on the craft of writing as a developmental and dynamic growth process toward a sophisticated proficiency. This process can only be shared by teachers, parents, or mentors who have a deep and profound knowledge and appreciation for the craft of writing. This does not mean that the teachers of young writers must be gifted writers themselves; teachers do well when they have at least felt, even minimally, the writing process from the inside out. But, it does mean that the teachers must have immersed themselves in good writing, availed themselves of the elements of good writing, and have acquainted themselves with the authors and creators of the best in writing.

Young writers need mentors who, rather than present themselves as masters of written communication, model the very struggles and processes they hope to see in the child’s writing. Young writers do not need strict taskmasters standing over their writing with red pen in hand, nor praise for every word that they put to paper or computer screen. Young writers do need mentors who will sit alongside them and collaboratively struggle through the process and share the glory of the written word. The best mentors know when to give all they know, when to withhold all they can give, and when to watch, judge, and help “with the wisdom of a good gardener” (Arnheim, 1989, p. 37). Good mentors will strive to unlock the child’s creative potential; they understand that the child’s mind and spirit are as fragile as they are malleable. Ronald Cramer (2001) has said, “Children are artists of language, not language scholars. They use language not to impress but to express. Given a little fall of rain from a fine teacher, children can make the flowers grow” (p. xiv).

I tend to side with Mem Fox (1993), again, who believes it helps if teachers of writing “have been soldiers themselves, engaged in a writing battle,” because they can “empathize more closely with the comrades in their classrooms than teachers who are merely war correspondents . . . watching the battle from a safe distance” (p. 11).

Next, writers need powerful teachers. Mem Fox (1993) said, “I wish we could change the world by creating powerful writers for forever instead of just indifferent writers for school” (p. 22). We can! Powerful teachers can. Consider the term teacher as referring to you in that role, or find someone who can function in this role. Children are drawn to teachers who possess a creative and artistic spirit, either in what they, the teachers, are capable of, or in their ability to observe and recognize creativity and artistic vision in others. Writing teachers should take part in the creative process their students are engaged in, as Donald Murray (2003) says, “Teachers should write so they understand the process of writing from within” (p. 74). Powerful teachers can share their passion in personal stories of their own and others’ creative efforts, struggles, and persistence. Powerful teachers motivate children through carefully guided choice and experimentation, not unrestricted options. Writing instruction is more than teaching the rules and procedures of standard communication. It is more a process of teaching critical thinking, as well as helping young writers to know and understand themselves and others.

Powerful teachers require young writers to examine and explore the world around them, to look closely at their relationships, and to expand their senses of perspective and personal relevance. Powerful teachers prepare their students for lives beyond the home and classroom. Powerful teachers instill the ability to both construct meaning and to share meaning with others in clear, concise, and compelling ways. They recognize that it is only through effectual interaction with ideas that the child will grow as a writer. However you get to the vision, passion, and motivation of a powerful teacher, gifted writers deserve whatever it takes.

Young writers need aspiration to high standards of quality. In order to develop a sense of quality writing to which they should aspire, children must be exposed to a variety of types, genres, styles, and authors. Children deserve to have favorites, and to study and pursue their favorites with breadth and depth. They can benefit from learning about the specific characteristics and techniques they observe and discover in quality writing. How can they distinguish quality writing? By your sharing and discussing how passages, endings, or whole stories make you feel. What’s so funny about that comic strip? What moves you in that essay? Additionally, you can help teach your child about quality when you share reviews of books you or your child have read.

Children can come to understand literary criticism at some level, and to develop goals for the quality of their own writing when the process of analyzing literature is an enjoyable experience from which memorable moments grow. Authentic connections between good literature and your child’s desires to write occur when she understands your emotional responses and opinions and perceives that you are affirming hers.

In fact, when it comes right down to it, once we get beyond the physical act of forming letters into words on paper, writing is a lot about caring what other people think about what we think. Children can write well when they care about what they are writing, and desire for their readers to care about it also. This is the key to helping our children be influenced by high standards—to care about reaching the standards. Mem Fox (1993) observed that nearly all of her writing had “the socially interactive purpose of either creating relationships or ensuring that established relationships continue” (p. 9). While she is writing, she thinks of someone who will be reading her words as

. . . invisibly watching me write, waiting to read what I’ve written. . . . The more I admire my potential readers, the more carefully I write and the more often I revise. . . . How often are our students able to receive a response from someone they particularly admire? . . . I think we tend to forget about this element of relationships when we teach writing. . . . Do we remember how much the caring over their writing is often also an aching to make friends with us and with their peers? (Fox, 1993, p. 9–11)

Children need and will aspire to high standards of quality in their writing when their desire to create and affect relationships through what they write is validated, encouraged, and facilitated.

Young writers need validation of their strengths and a thrust beyond them. One aspect of validation is meaningful response from others who are affected by their writing. As Mem Fox (1993) says, “Children develop language through interaction, not action. They learn to talk by talking to someone who responds. They must therefore learn to write by writing to someone who responds” (p. 22).

When response is sincere, specific, and indicative of understanding for what the writer has intended, the writer approaches a position of acceptance and strength from which she can forge ahead to the hard work of progress and improvement. Validation does not mean a loss of individuality toward a common judgment, but a value for what is individually and inherently distinguished. It does not mean a glossing over of problems or weaknesses, but rather an admired sense of differentiating between what is splendid and what can be enhanced. Validation does not include requiring a child to adhere to set structures of writing that push them to change their ideas in order to fill in the blanks, but rather, an accepting and understanding of their desires and ability to express their thoughts and emotions with words. The key to validation that pushes the young writer to the next stage or stepping stone is specificity.

“Writers tend to be fragile, highly sensitive, breakable creatures,” say Ralph Fletcher and JoAnn Portalupi (2001, p. 51). “Student writers aren’t always open to suggestions, from us or from their peers. That’s why it’s so important to give them concrete praise,” even for small or isolated elements of their writing. Pointing out weaknesses may be palatable to your child if you often focus on her strengths, and if the direction is specific. In pointing out her weaknesses, present them one at a time as an exciting problem to solve, a fun puzzle to figure out, or a challenge to uniqueness. Then find solutions together in an uplifting manner where you both learn and grow.

Writers need their diversity and originality valued. Writing is a vehicle for your child to discover what he knows about himself and the world. American poet William Stafford once said that a writer is not someone who has something to say as much as someone who has found a way to say it. Writing allows your child to explore what he loves and hates, what he needs and can give, and what he wants from the world. The very act of writing—making something out of nothing—produces a feeling of worth and sense of accomplishment. This helps your child believe in himself and increase his self-efficacy. Perhaps most importantly, writing allows your child to hear her own unique voice, to communicate in her own words, and to be herself. Your recognition of and affirmative response to your child’s unique voice will help her to recognize it and to know herself better. When we honor the uniqueness of each child, we are able to show profound respect for what each has to say, which in turn, encourages your child to continue revealing himself to us through his words. Empowering a child’s unique voice is about encouraging her to communicate her personal truth—her thoughts, feelings, ideas, and emotions—in writing. “Where truth thrives, individuality also flourishes” (Spandel, 2005a, p. 140).

Emerging writers need to take risks, and they benefit from strong and caring encouragement to do so. Writing is a safe way to test the waters with questions and beliefs, seek answers and feedback, and to observe what happens because of creative ideas. Creation of anything requires us to ask questions, dwell at least momentarily in doubt and confusion, and to finally reach a breakthrough. As your child writes, he will immerse himself in the creative process, and the more practice he has in this, the more easily he will be able to transfer these skills to other areas of his life that require creative solutions. He needs your support and concern, with healthy amounts of freedom, in order to do so. He will benefit from your pointing out risks that are apparent to you as you discover new authors or new books that intrigue you. This will model to your child safety in having and sharing opinions, and the value you place on uniqueness and creative endeavors.

“Without risk, it is nearly impossible to grow as a writer” (Spandel, 2005a, p. 63). Sure, non-risk-takers can rise to a level of competence and produce prolific products that contain all the necessary data and most of the conventions. But, is that enough? Is that all we want for them, when they could do so much more? Truly gifted communication is “unlikely to happen, though, if we insist that they write well or even adequately all the time. No one does this. No one who writes to be read, anyway” (Spandel, 2005a, p. 63). Author Stephen King has said, “Only God gets it right the first time” (2000, p. 212).

Many young writers need routines that inspire predictable security. Apply routines with discrimination and with great care to support risk-taking, rather than discourage it. Routines can be as simple as having a family “word of the day,” or tuning in to a radio program such as “All Things Considered” on National Public Radio. For many people, routines provide the best way to diet, to get in physical shape, or to learn a skill such as playing tennis. The same principles of predictable sequences or repetitions of activities can be helpful in developing the writing craft. However, dieting can become a straightjacket for someone with an eating disorder, and tennis elbow can result from repetitive and vigorous use or overuse of the forearm muscles. Introducing routines one at a time in a lighthearted manner can enhance the effect they have on your child’s desire to engage in them. Routines in which your child assumes the role of researcher or presenter can inspire him to enjoy the habit and use it to energize himself for writing tasks. The following routines may be fun to initiate with your child:

• Experts: You and/or your child find fascinating facts to share about a writer, her history, or how she approaches writing a new book, poem, or article.
• Riddle of the day: Riddles have potential to trigger critical thinking and problem solving, and allow you to enjoy words and imaginative language.
• Word of the day: This involves you or your child choosing a word (e.g., critique, montage, onomatopoeia, metamorphosis, or many others) and displaying it prominently. Effective vocabulary teaching involves saying the word, using it in context, explaining or showing examples, and then challenging each other to think of sentences using the word.
• A poem a day: This routine can begin with displaying or just reading a poem. The poem is read expressively so that the sounds and images can be enjoyed. The family can choral-read it, whisper read it, act it out, or just add it to a family collection. Jacqueline Kennedy had her children select or write poems as gifts to their father, President John F. Kennedy, for every birthday and holiday. This routine instilled a lifelong love for poetry in their daughter, Caroline, who recently published two collections of family favorites A Family of Poems: My Favorite Poetry for Children, 2005, and The Best Loved Poems of Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis, 2001).
• Words for life journals: By using a journal routine that focuses on observations, descriptions, and lists, you and your child can discover how much all published books, poetry, and articles are influenced by what the writer documents. A variety of little books for the very purpose of taking notes on reading are available for purchase at bookstores. Three of my favorites:
  • Books to Check Out: A Journal, published in 2001 by Chronicle Books
  • Reading Notes, published in 2005 by Ryland, Peters & Small
  • Book Club Journal: A Workbook and Record Keeper, published in 2003 by Peter Pauper Press, Inc.

Young gifted writers need permission for their passion for writing. Because writing forces your child to sit and think, it can be a way for him to find answers to questions that arise in his life. Writing is introspective by nature, and gives the writer opportunities to carefully review choices and decisions, to examine his questions, and to find answers that fit in his world, which you have helped create. Writing will help your child to reveal aspects of himself that don’t always come across in face-to-face communication, phone conversations, class presentations, or family discussions. As a writer, your child will have more time to reflect on what he believes, what he wants to say, and why he thinks or feels a certain way. Writers all eventually need to feel empowered to make a difference with their writing. Giving young writers permission for their passion for writing is, I believe, the most important ingredient to give writers, along with mentors, high standards, appreciation for their ideas and uniqueness, and the feeling of security when they take risks. It may help to ask ourselves when we or our children last ached with passion over what we were writing, or wrote, because it mattered deeply. When have you written because you have had a huge investment in your writing?

It is not likely that you picked up this book out of an obligation to become a writer yourself. Then again, the title peaked your curiosity in some way—you were drawn to the idea of your child’s writing, either through the passion you have already observed emanating from you child, or there is a seed of passion in you, either lying dormant, or attempting to germinate. The ideas about writing in this book also should appeal to you, in either regard. These ideas are wonderful and true, based in the real world of writers at work.

[These writing ideas] will fail only if we . . . refuse to write ourselves, to learn firsthand the fear of rejection; the fear of self-exposure; the horror of writing; the pleasure of having an appreciative audience; and the necessity for a reason, a reader, and a real reaction. We ourselves must write in order to spread the word with conviction. (Fox, 1993, p. 40)

Conviction is closely related to passion. When we provide a consistent diet of this conviction—permission for passion—in a long-term environment of support and validation, we empower our children to see themselves as the writers they are becoming.

Writing allows the writer time to think again, and to choose thoughts and words carefully. Writers don’t usually “know beforehand where to begin, much less how to proceed” (Nagin & National Writing Project, 2003, p. 9). Writing gives the writer access to strategies that can lift the quality of thinking to a limitless potential for pondering, observing, cutting, extending, leaving behind and returning to thoughts, and many other steps that make the writing just right. In fact, the more complex the subject is, the more disorganized and unpredictable the act of composing what the writer wants to say is. Therefore, writing can create deeper thinking than other means of communication allow. Writing is hard work because “it is a struggle of thought, feeling, and imagination to find expression clear enough for the task at hand (Nagin & National Writing Project, p. 9). Ronald Cramer (2001) has established five characteristics of writing that influence thinking, found in Table 5.

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I take enormous pleasure every time I see something that I’ve done that cannot be wiped out. In some way . . . I guess it’s a protest against mortality. But it’s been so much fun! . . . It’s making a difference in the world that prevents me from ever giving up.
—Deborah Meier, educator, 1992

Families should be writing—recollections, whims, stories of love and pain, laughter and lessons, troubling, sad, or silly things—all of the rich stuff that makes a family the unique legacy it is. A child who grows up in a family that enjoys writing cannot help but come to value writing. Whether or not she becomes a professional writer, her skills, perceptions, and even her test scores, will be enhanced and increased because she has been a vital part of a writing family. She will have interacted with words that have gone straight to her heart, and with the writers of those words whom she cares the most about. There may not be a greater or wiser gift than that of words written down.

Look around your home. Where do you find signs of a writing family? Are there current journals being kept by family members, or journals passed down from a previous generation to yours? Are letters written, received, and saved? Are there any closet poets among you—who turn every invitation or funny memory into a simple rhyme? Has anyone captured your funniest stories or most priceless, touching memories? Could a snoopy visitor to your home find any supply of paper and pens or pencils? If you do nothing else to encourage your child as a serious writer, you will be doing a favor for your family now and in future generations if you will choose a starting place and begin your family’s writing life. Here are some ideas to get you started:

• When I was your age . . . What if never a birthday or holiday went by without your child receiving a written form of a memory from you when you were 6, 8, or 16 years of age? These could be collected in a treasured notebook, pages added to an empty journal, or framed.
• We won’t remember it if we don’t write it down. What funny phrase did your 3-year-old utter today? What funny or touching, never-to-be-repeated observation have you jotted down today, this week? One thing is for sure: You won’t remember it if you don’t write it down.
• Twenty-five wonderful words. As a family, compile an ongoing list of 25 words that family members like—any words. Encourage all family members to contribute. Keep them posted in a place where the family gathers fairly regularly (near the kitchen table or in the family room). Talk about them, play guessing games with them, or form riddles about them (“Guess which word I’m thinking of . . . ”). Hold holiday word campaigns, where family members promote words in an election or contest, using posters, banners, slogans, buttons, and even speeches to convince others to vote for their word. Visit grandparents or neighbors to ask for their votes.
• Scrapbooking current and family events. Keep a family scrapbook and take turns describing events and illustrating them with sketches, photos, or cut-outs and clip art. This scrapbook can be in the form of a simple three-ring, loose-leaf notebook, or a commercially prepared scrapbook with big, wide pages that invite the addition of information.
• Family word collages. Each family member can create a self-describing word collage with cut-out words from magazines, junk mail, and other disposable print. For an anniversary (the family’s “birthday,” or the “birthday” of some important direction your family has taken), create a family celebration word collage.
• Family e-mail editors. Rotate through your family members an e-mail editor who is responsible for notifying family members of the types of e-mail that has come, and summarizing what the mail is. Your child will experience examples of e-mail etiquette and skills related to composing e-mail. If he does not already have access to writing e-mail, this would be a great introduction to his being able to participate safely in this world of cyber communication.
• Whys and why nots. Have you ever drawn a line down the middle of a sheet of paper, and written the pros and cons of a problem to solve or a decision to be made? Writing fosters vision, although too many people only believe the reverse of that sentence. If you write when you are baffled, angry, or depressed, something is sure to rise to the surface.
• Lists, lists, and more lists. Days after one of my friends passed away, too early and unexpectedly, her teenage daughters found interesting lists in the drawer of her nightstand. One list included 10 dates, which the girls determined to be the 10 most important dates in their mother’s life . . . days like meeting their dad, marrying him, each of the girls’ birthdates, and the date of the one Mother’s Day where the girls really did shower their mother with love, favors, breakfast in bed, and entertainment. Think of what lists can reveal about you: lists of favorite words, lists of people you’ve always disliked and why (with notes about your feelings that may have changed over time), lists of five decisions you’ve been putting off, a list of five or six people to whom you should write, thanking them for their influence, lists of lifelong frustrations, and lists of items and events that bring you joy.
• Closet graffiti. Use the inside of a closet door that only the family will see. Attach a large sheet of poster paper or freezer paper to the inside door, and place some colored markers close to the paper. Allow doodlings and wonderings to be placed on the paper. Family members can contribute when something is on their minds, or when they have a question to which they don’t need a serious response. The only requirement to join in the fun is to be able to convey meaning with a comment, question, or drawing. The more your additions resemble graffiti, the more interesting your closet becomes.
• Journals and journaling. The simplest and, perhaps purest, form of writing may be the observable act of making an entry in a journal. It is a private act, accomplished for and by yourself, but typically an unselfish conscious act. It amounts to a congenial transaction between you and an empty page in an empty or half-filled book. There are no rules, no expectations, and no compelling reason to keep writing in a journal, except for insights you may recognize at a later time when you really need it, or personal revelations to an adult child or grandchild about yourself after you are gone. The physical book in which you keep your journal can be almost as motivating as the thoughts and events you wish to describe in it.
• Love note mania. Write and share with each other tributes, odes, love songs, or love notes to unusual items, such as your nose, lightning, December, a math test, your soccer ball, dirty socks, or dust on the furniture.
• People watching. Keep a people watching notebook in the car, and take it along on vacations, dinner outings, or leisurely Sunday afternoon drives. Rotate turns through family members to record observations of one or more persons you can watch for at least a few minutes, or have each family member write a description of a different person in the setting you are in. Try it once, or create a traveling tradition. You will be surprised at how your stories will become part of your family lore, and make their way into your child’s writer’s notebook, poems, or stories.
• Letters. It can be fascinating to read collections of letters from others through the ages, whether they are from Civil War soldiers, Beethoven, Charles Lindbergh to Anne Marrow, or from Anne to Charles. So, write some letters, and whether or not you send them, keep copies of them for some other day and time.
• Postcards from yourself to yourself. As you travel, have your child write on postcards and send them home to himself. Adding to his own collection of memories and pictures from his travels can motivate him to experiment with descriptive writing and mimicking travel brochures and tour guides.
• Things I wish I could do. I don’t know if Jerry Spinelli wrote his list of 16 things he wished he could do when he was 16 years old, or about being 16, or if he simply chose a random number of items to place on his list. I love this list! It includes trivial pursuits such as the ability to “spit between my two front teeth” to breaking a popsicle perfectly down the middle to have two equal parts, all the way to his more contemplative desires such as to “understand eternity” (Spinelli, 1998, p. 76). The list reveals volumes about Spinelli’s personality, his hopes and dreams, his sense of humor, and some of his childhood and adolescent beliefs. Spinelli’s list has inspired me to have my children write a new list each year. When my daughter turns 18 this year, I will be very interested in what her list says about what she wishes she could do. I wish I had a list of eight things from when she was 8 years old, nine things she wished she could do at age 9, and so on. What a wonderful record I would have if I had compiled lists from each year of my child’s life—a delightful little sample of her growing and changing values, hopes, and dreams.
• Word of the day. Responsibility for choosing a new word and presenting it in a delightful way can rotate through the family. Other word games, rhyming games, and Mad Libs can be found in books and on Web sites, and can inspire fun for family members in spare moments between meals or other home activities.
• Words as gifts. Start a tradition and give your words away. Write messages to your child when you are away; write your memories of your parents’ marriage for their anniversary; create a memory book or collection of words that many people have written; give words back—words that you remember the recipient has said to you, entitled “Words of Wisdom,” “Words of Wit,” or “Words of Love.”
• Family recipe book. Great as gifts to extended family and your own children, these can be fascinating records of not only what generations of your family has eaten, but who thought what about the food, or interesting sources of beloved good meals. The way you write up the recipes and descriptions can bring to mind aromas, textures, and tastes from your and others’ childhoods.
• Poetry magnets. Inexpensive sets of small magnetic word strips are available at bookstores and through mail order catalogs. They are also easy to make from printing words that are found in a variety of poems, adhering the page to thin magnetic sheets, and cutting the words apart. It makes it fun to leave poetic messages to each other on the refrigerator.
• Golden book lines. Encourage your child to find golden lines as they are reading—sentences that especially attract them and inspire them to notice clever or colorful writing. Find a golden foil-covered journal for writing down these golden lines to share and reread later.
• Family newsletters. Folks who have been writing and sending these for years might not think there’s anything special about them. But, if you are in the habit of sending a family newsletter out, you will have a vehicle with which to entice your budding author—your child as a writer. Your child may become a feature writer, or even the editor in chief.

Can you see how the simplest endeavor and a little bit of time can provide the visibility, permanence, preciseness, sincerity, and focus of thought that can enhance your child’s life as a writer? In fact, families writing together can enhance the essence of your lives altogether. The benefits are far reaching, and you may come to find that you enjoy the responsibility and opportunity of enhancing and inspiring the thinking and writing in your home.

Arnheim, R. (1989). Thoughts on art education. Los Angeles: Getty Center for Education in the Arts.

Calkins, L. M. (2000). The art of teaching writing. Boston: Allyn & Bacon.

Cramer, R. L. (2001). Creative power: The nature and nurture of children’s writing. New York: Longman.

Ehrlich, E., & DeBruhl, M. (1996). The international thesaurus of quotations. New York: HarperCollins Publishers.

Fletcher, R. (1993). What a writer needs. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Fletcher, R., & Portalupi, J. (2001). Writing workshop: The essential guide. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Fox, M. (1993). Radical reflections: Passionate opinions on teaching, learning, and living. New York: Harcourt.

Heard, G. (1995). Writing toward home: Tales and lessons to find your way. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

King, S. (2000). On writing: A memoir of the craft. New York: Scribner.

Mirriam-Goldberg, C. (1999). Write where you are: How to use writing to make sense of your life: A guide for teens. Minneapolis, MN: Free Spirit Publishing.

Murray, D. (2003). A writer teaches writing (Rev. ed.). Boston: Heinle.

Nagin, C., & National Writing Project. (2003). Because writing matters: Improving student writing in our schools. Hoboken, NJ: Jossey-Bass.

Ray, K. W. (1999). Wondrous words: Writers and writing in the elementary classroom. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Ray, K. W. (2002). What you know by heart: How to develop curriculum for your writing workshop. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Spandel, V. (2005a). The 9 rights of every writer: A guide for teachers. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Spinelli, J. (1998). Knots in my yo-yo string. New York: Random House ChildrenÕs Books.