Thank you to all who left a comment on my last post. Thank you so much.
Here’s the cherry on top that I promised. I just wish I could give you each one of the actual profiteroles that Lulu made for her grandparents’ birthdays, with handmade bittersweet chocolate sauce, of course!
I was touched that so many of you took the time to leave thoughts that seemed deeply pondered, and were so wonderfully honest. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me. (And if you didn’t leave a comment yet, it’s not too late. I’d love more feedback!)
I feel a little sheepish about how most of you weren’t asking for advice, but I stepped right up and elected myself the Dear Abby of Homeschooled Writing. Somehow I can’t help myself. When people start talking kids and writing, I get giddy. I could put duct tape on my mouth and sit on my hands, yet if you started talking about your kids and their writing experiences I would bounce up and down and try to mumble through the tape, “I have an idea for you!”
One reason for my feedback is that I can’t lose the teacher part of me that loves to help people. But I write back for selfish reasons too. As I respond to your hopes and concerns, I’m figuring out my own thoughts on the subject. Like anyone, I crystallize what I think about a topic as I write about it–which is just one more wonderful reason for writing, and one that Susan and both Carries alluded to in their hopes for their kids. And crystallizing your ideas is pretty important, when you’re endeavoring to write a book.
What your feedback did more than anything was give me an audience for this book. Any writer will tell you that if you want your work to be effective, you need to know who you’re writing for. Now, when I sit down and write, I’m writing to you, you who leave me comments here, sharing your worries and your desires about your kids and their writing. You’ve become my audience, like it or not, and having you in mind has given me a focus that I didn’t have before. Finally, I know where the book should begin and I’ve begun it, because I know what I want to tell you.
I wish we could all sit around a table, talking kids and writing and eating profiteroles. But until that day comes, I’m ever grateful to gather with you here. Thanks for hanging out and telling me what’s on your mind. It’s just what I needed to hear.