A Brave Writer's Life in Brief

We’re all learning a lot right now. Recently, one of our Brave Writer community members reached out to me to ask how we might address problematic racist stereotypes in a literature handbook about a particular book. She asked it with gentleness, without accusation. Her request led to fruitful exchange and conversation. When I returned to thank her, I complimented her kind attitude.

She replied, “I’ve learned it is better to call people in to a conversation than to call them out for problematic behavior.”

Mic drop.

What would happen if we called our children in to a conversation as opposed to calling them out for misbehavior?

Imagine shoes and coats left on the floor. And instead of saying “Hey you left your shoes and coat on the floor! Pick them up!” we say, “Hey, I want to call you into a conversation about your shoes and coat on the floor.” Now I know the language sounds a little forced but the spirit is right.

What if we said, “Hey! I want to hear about your shoes and coat on the floor. What are you planning to do with them?” The same way this Brave Writer mother asked me how I was planning to manage a troublesome passage in a book is how we can relate to anyone whose behavior is disappointing or confusing to us.

She gave me a moment to realize the issue at hand without my having to feel the searing hot lava shame of failure that I didn’t live up to her standard.

This is a great tool for all of our relationships. It’s the one I wished I’d used in the past when I wanted to inspire participation in showing support to our Black homeschool colleagues.

Let’s see what happens when we call in, rather than call out. So powerful!

This post is originally from Instagram and @juliebogartwriter is my account there so come follow along for more conversations like this one!

Our goal is to grow:

• thinkers,
• feelers,
• self-aware human beings.

Sometimes we jump to conclusions about what our kids mean before we understand what motivates the thinking behind what they say. This simple phrase “What makes you say that?” gives your child a moment to reflect. It also gives you a minute to hold back a reactive reply. And it allows you to discover the powerful ideas and viewpoints that drive a child’s initial comments or outbursts.

The phrase can be used when a child is angry: “She’s always mean to me.”

“What makes you say that?”

It can be used to deepen insight: “I liked the book.”

“What makes you say that?”

It can be used for strong opinions: “No one should eat meat.”

“What makes you say that?”

If asked with genuine respect—not in a snippy or suspicious tone—a child is often happy to elaborate. You find out there’s a story there you didn’t know. There may be depth, insight, or even misunderstanding. By asking, however, you teach your children to learn to ask themselves why they think what they do.

This post is originally from Instagram and @juliebogartwriter is my account there so come follow along for more conversations like this one!

So you worry that your kids are misspelling words at age 15? You wish there was more gravitas to their writing? You figure by now they’d be showing signs of sophistication in their prose?

Keep reading. I’m about to humiliate myself in your service.

A childhood friend (during a COVID cleaning spree) discovered two aerogrammes I sent to her when I was 15 while she was in Israel. She messaged copies to me. I clicked open the scanned documents eager to read my thoughts, imagining some teenage depth or evidence of the writer I’ve become.

Um, no.

Instead, I mix up “your” and “you’re,” I’m obsessed with boys, I’m eager to be liked (cringe-worthy levels), and I cuss a blue streak like the “rebellious-for-a-summer-in-a-letter” good girl that I was. It was, to put a point on it, embarrassing.

Kinda wished I hadn’t had to reacquaint myself with that girl! My writing shows zero promise. And I was an Honor’s English student.

I did manage to tell the story of a snake my cat brought into the house and how my dad and my friend’s dad chased it out the front door, and in the second letter, I lamented that the cute junior counselor at my sleep-away summer camp didn’t know I existed. Oh the humanity! Braces, 4’10” —not the hot girl of Malibu canyon, that’s for sure.

Plot twist: by the end of camp, he took me on my first date (Star Wars!), gave me my first kiss and turned into a boyfriend after camp ended. So a “cloying hunger to be liked” must’ve been his thing.

Point being: when writing essays, I could pull it together, and perform well enough. But I also know if I read those essays now, I’d be appalled at their gaffes and lack of insight. My personal writing was rambly, chaotic teen stuff—no patience for vetted punctuation or spelling.

Because I was 15. A little boy crazy. A lot inexperienced. Still finding my voice, myself, my friends, my personality.

What I had going for me? Pure love of self-expression. That was enough…and got me all the way here, today. No one ruined writing for me.

So breathe easier. There’s time. Enjoy your gangly, neurotic young people. It’s not easy becoming themselves, or writing about it.

This post is originally from Instagram and @juliebogartwriter is my account there so come follow along for more conversations like this one!