A “Why” Child

Seeing the Point

Brave Writer Team:

We started using The Writer’s Jungle, Arrow, Boomerang, and following your blog in November. I thought teaching writing would be easy because I was a natural and prolific writer in school winning numerous contests some of which included publication in anthologies. Our oldest son is very talented with improvisation. He spontaneously conducted a very entertaining interview with our Vizsla.

During Tea Time, he would hold up one of our Shakespeare Sonnet collections and recite what we would believe is Shakespeare just to inform us in the end that he made it all up. However, when it comes to getting it down on paper, he shuts down, I scream, and we both cry. We tried Write Shop, using Dragon Naturally Speaking to eliminate “writing,” and Writing with Skill without success.

We haven’t shed a tear or had a screaming match since starting Brave Writer. He even comments on how much he likes it because he can see the point behind everything we do. He is very much a “why” child.

I believe there was a disconnect between writing for fun and writing for “school” which caused the barriers. We are making progress. [Below is] his first free write that was taken through the process. He is 13 and enjoyed doing this. He even read it to the family during dinner.


The Walk

I charge out of the door, tail wagging franticly for my walk. I see new things, sniff new things, and pee on new things. I scurry down the drive way, nails clanking on the concrete, over to the mail box lift my left leg up and release. I walk back to the door and allow my owner to put my leash on my collar. The leash despises me and I despise it. It is like a game of dominance between me and the leash; it tugs while I stay in place trying to observe things.

As we’re walking approaching other dogs, I want to play with them; I run towards them; my leash pulls; my owner tells me to sit. Upset with my owner, I give him the “you’re no fun” look. The dog dashes towards me; his owner pulls him away too. We look at each other – a possible friend gone by.

I continue walking, sniffing, and peeing on where other dogs have been. Smelling the scent of the ducks and birds drives my natural instinct to chase and retrieve.

Tongue hanging, wind hitting my face, and ears waving I sprint after the ducks. They protest with loud quacks and feathers rain down from the fleeing ducks. I come to a screeching halt as my owner stops me – not trusting me to stop on my own. I wasn’t going to go in the water – geez! I turn away, annoyed, walking back head down snorting.

As the sun set, we walk back home glancing at the gleaming water thinking about the walk.

The Writer's Jungle

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