Last night after my son finished his homework, he informed me he wanted to write a story. Well, needless to say I am always excited when one of my children shows any interest in writing, so I grabbed him some paper, a pencil and told him to let me know if he needed any help. But this wasn't any story he was working on, he wanted to write a mystery.
To prepare himself for writing this story, he wanted me to help him solve a mystery. Some nefarious individual had made short work of the giant bookshelf in his room and scattered Thomas the Tank Engine books all over the floor. We looked at the clues, the tiny perpetrator had left a calling card- a tiny plastic engine had been left behind. Hmm...After reviewing his notes, my son concluded the guilty party was no other than his three year old brother. I have to say, I kind of saw this coming, the little guy is a known Thomas fanatic.
My son was ready. He spent the next hour or so jotting down his masterpiece-only stopping to ask me how to spell something. He then stapled it together and starting reading it to me. I thought it was pretty good! He didn't. Then he started editing. He poured over his story making changes until it came out "perfect". I understood, I've been there. Walking over to the computer where I was working on my own book, he informed me that since he had finished his mystery novel in just one day, he would be happy to help me finish mine after school today. He couldn't wait to take his story to school this morning to share with his class, even though he admitted being a little nervous.
I think that's why we do it-writing I mean. It's that passion for writing, the writing process, it keeps us going. It's what we love(even though sometimes we swear we hate it), and why we love to share our work with others(even though it makes us a little nervous too). I'm really glad my son got to experience that feeling-being passionate about something he created. I think that's pretty awesome.