Imaginative Children, Are They Future Authors? Does your child change Medusa?

 

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Imaginative Children, Are They Future Authors?

So, it’s been said, regarding the odds of becoming a famous writer that, “4 out of 5 people, want to write a New York Times best seller, book.” Clearly, the odds of becoming a famous author are stacked against every writer. It maybe easier to win the many lotteries, which have a winner every day, somewhere.

Looking at the traits of many writers when younger, we will find a child who had/has/have an incredible imagination.

To watch for a potential child writer, one should notice and observe traits.  The traits vary, and these traits, I’ve listed, are certainly not (all) the characteristics of (all) young writers. But, these are a sampling or examples of some observations a parent may see in their youngster or youngsters.

Does the child change the story/stories that a parent reads them? Do they have another ending? And to add about this trait, it may occur at very young age. Perhaps, even before, age 2 or 3 and on up. It depends on how early the child was exposed to books and stories.

Does your child love stories? Do they open a book (often) without prompting by a parent? “Here, please, read this to me.” And, “No, that’s not how it ends, mommy/daddy!” They clearly change the setting, plot and characters…

Does your 7, 8 or 9 year old love to write poems and do they keep a diary or journal?

Has anyone accused your child of “not telling the truth?” Or, have they been accused of “lying?” Many times a young writer will suffer punishment for being creative. The parent may not understand, nor their teacher. Perhaps, the person who will/or has recognized this gift, in a child is someone who is also gifted… After all, as it’s said, “It takes one to know one.” Non creative people often become frustrated with the creative child. The parent or teacher is unable to understand the trait, they simply don’t resonate with a child who is unlike their self or themselves … They can’t.

On to the characteristics: Does your child make up better endings of stories, or more violent scenes, or change any part of their world that is unsatisfactory, as well as stories? Does your child perhaps change Medusa? I laugh at this statement, because this is what I did when I was a child. I made my mother change the snakes to dragons or horses, and my mother, always obliged me… She was a creator, as well.

Does your child pretend a lot? Do they have imaginary friends? Do they talk to themselves? Can they entertain themselves with fantasy for long periods of time? Are they as happy to be with themselves, rather than, being with friends?

Do they want to know historical facts? Are they obsessed with hearing other stories over and over again? Do they have foresight? Are they intuitive?

Do they live in a dream world? Do they daydream? Has the teacher at school gotten on your child for, “Not paying attention?” Perhaps, your child is partially listening, but is making the explanation better or more interesting… ?

Has your child been treated for a psychiatric disorder? Did they put your child on medications to clear up delusions, hallucinations or mental illness? Does your child have nightmares? Do they see things at night or day? Do they think the boogie-man is truly under their beds?

Now, please understand, there are mental disorders that do need to be treated. However, a consideration for imagination vs psychiatric diagnosis, must be clarified. Asking and verifying, are these behaviors an active imagination or symptoms of a psychiatric illness? (is absolutely necessary)

If your child is surely not suffering from psychosis or a mental illness, then it maybe a good idea to have your child placed in a group of young writers, poets, lyricists and artists. Often artists do suffer from some sadness like other non creative people do, but creativity plus sadness often is interpreted as mental illness. (Very sad face). The equation is not 1 + 1 = 2 …  It is merely 1, you have a creative child and 2, the child is depressed (like many uncreative humans). Too often, the 1 + 1 = 2 means a psych diagnosis, medications and a label that follows a child the rest of their lives. (very sad face, again).

Children will need to have this gift of imagination developed by the right person. It is a parental responsibility to help cultivate an imaginative child and to teach the child when to turn the fantasy off and when to create… After all, an imaginative child will create ALL THE TIME… that’s their gift, just like a vocalist or an artist of pictures …  Writers create worlds, kingdoms, magical places and wonderful stories if we nurture them, understand them, and assist them. For an example, if you forbade a writer or creator from mentally creating, they would not/could not stop imagining. It is as natural as a natural born vocalist. Writers are intuitive manifest-ors. They will need positive instruction and direction from someone who is also creative. They will need direction from a positive influence.

I don’t know about becoming a famous author, screenwriter, lyricists or poet, but I do know, from being a creative child, they will thrive in a protective, supportive environment and who knows what anyones future might be… Except the little author… Oh, they can create their world… It’s as far as their imaginations can venture…

Happy writing little ones…

 

Please feel free to write your experiences or your child’s character traits of being a writer… I would love to know yours…

A Poem for Jacob; The Cat, The Mouse and The Squirrel

Mimsi and Jacob Christmas 2014
Mimsi and Jacob Christmas 2014

A Poem for Jacob; Friends and Pets

By Bonnie Jennings ©2015

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The Cat and the mouse played hide and seek

In the home of a squirrel and bugs

They sang a song while running along

To the tune of tweedy in love

The squirrel took the broom and cleaned the room

While the cat watched the mouse who danced

They serenaded each other between the butter

With a fork and a pence dab-loon

The squirrel declared, “Enough!” while coughing from the dust

And, cast them, so far away

It was a terrible dismay, on a superior fine day,

In the fresh clean month of May.

And as it’s been told, speaking so bold,

The squirrel rarely comes out to play

For’ his friends did depart, thus speaking from his heart

Admits his decisions were not to smart; and that diplomacy is an art

And, that squirrels could pine forevermore at the moon…

Letters for Jacob

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I journeyed through middle age judging that which I was told to fear. 

I missed so much good. 

In early life, trusting so readily, could have swallowed me. I’m thankful, for the added chances. I’m thankful for another breath.

When revisiting judgment universe, on occasion, I become angry at the world. I don’t want to go there. Its like visiting a smelly grandmother who doesn’t have cookies to share.
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If I’m smelly, smile gently and say, “Mimsi, you stink.”  
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Oh yes ~ There will always be, “One, more thing.”
My mother, your great-grandmother, Babe, use to say, “The interpreters of The Bible were wrong. The statement of ‘The root of all evil is money,’ but I say, it is the lack of money, that is the root of all evil.” Tumbling her beliefs in my mind for a long time, led me to understanding. Yes, I know she is correct.

Noble Man

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My grand father William Sydney Patton
Turn of The Century in his humble honor. He was a nobleman.

The fable begins:

A tall lean man traveling a path who walked swiftly was stopped by the magistrate in a village. He answered the questions that provoked awareness of the magistrates trap.

“For what is your plan and which direction will you travel?”

Pausing before he spoke, he raised his eyebrows and lifted his face and took a deep breath and wisely spoke. “There once was a wise man who traveled a path. He had a nap-sac tied to a stick that rested on his shoulder as he walked the path. The king inquires what is your plan and what road will you pass?” The man gently smiles. Then, he finishes his explannation. ” I travel lite. I speak no plan. I ask my father. I listen to his commands. Then, the path illuminates. Giving thanks, I follow one step at a time.”

The magistrate raised his eyes to see if the traveler was telling the truth. He looked straight into the eyes of the wise man. He saw no lies, but he misunderstood the explanation. He looked to the paths set before him. He saw no illumination. He believed the wise traveler tricked him. So, he set a trap for the man. All paths would have deep holes with false floors to catch him in his lies.

As the wise man comes to the wood paths with traps everywhere, an inner awareness arose. He did not understand the traps set before him, but he did see the path’s light fade from the floor of the forest and begin the shine on the limbs of trees. He followed upward. Vines shown. He grasped them and begin to swing from one limb to another using the long vines to swing even faster. He thanked God for the time he now saves by swinging freely.

God showed him others caught in the traps the magistrate had dug, as well. He also saw the children of the magistrates caught in similar deep in the holes. There, by the side of the holes, the magistrate knelt crying for his offspring. He had no way to set them free from their plights. He acknowledged, not the others caught in the traps of his evil schemes.

So the wise traveler threw a long vine to the magistrate. The wise man took a risk of not being excepted, but he wasn’t concerned for himself. Compassionate motives drove his actions. The vine landed in the hand of the magistrate just as it was aimed.

The magistrate looked up and ~

Then~pride fell from the magistrate. He saved his children.

The others were left in the holes. But, the wise man saw the plan for their salvation. It would require a sacrifice.
The sacrifice would be unblemished and worthy enough that the magistrate would be satisfied. The cost would be the blood and life of the magistrates arch enemy. The blood of the one that was despised the most. So, the wise man knew.

He followed the instructions given in the light that illuminated his path. He knew this is not the end, but merely the beginning for all men (the others) left in holes to be rescued.

The lamb, white, pure, and unblemished by dirt or barnyard rape was presented as the sacrifice. The magistrate wallowed as a filthy boar, laughing like a hyena after taking the life of the innocent ewe. The magistrate is still wildly ravenous when the blood of the wise man’s is noticed or esteemed.

Jealousy kills. It is a destroyer and there is no use or good in the actions of envy. Coveting the neighbors goats, their house, their spouse, their life and not respecting ones own leads to confusion and despair. It will make one kick their own dogs.

Little Jacob, be appreciate of the goodness within you and your surroundings. Make your gifts shine. Be thankful in all the little things, you’ve been handed. Then, you will be trusted with bigger things and finally one day you will be given your kingdom promised to you. After all, it was made and prepared and thought of, just for you. One step at a time with love, blessings and thankfulness for everything will take you to your home. Your final resting place, it awaits you. Hard work is necessary, and you will not take this place by force or covet. Your place will be given inside faith, hope, and love.

No more shall you, kick the dogs.