And then, my balloon bursts…
Writing with pen and paper is just so much more visceral than typing on a computer. I have heard of writers who favor the old-fashioned typewriter for their works, as well. I can easily picture that. Though (obviously) I blog frequently (or, frequently in spurts), sometimes I just need to get something down on paper, by hand. (Edited to add: I started this post out this way, as I was going to type out a couple of journal entries I’d written… then, I hijacked my own post and took it in somewhat of a different direction. So, this first paragraph has little bearing on the rest of the post. Or, maybe it doesn’t… )
Recently, I have been considering the progress of my 10yo son. Grant has Nonverbal Learning Disorder, which I explained in probably too much detail in this recent post. In it, I was encouraged by some progress he’s been making, just becoming more alert to the world and the people around him. Additionally, this week, I journalled some encouraging signs about Grant…
However, in the face of all these warm fuzzies, reality comes and whacks me upside the head. This week has been FILLED with frustration with Grant. He, highly intelligent, is convinced that he is always right, and that anyone who disagrees with him — parents included — is obviously wrong and that his intelligence is a trump card over authority’s obvious wrongness, releasing him, he feels, from righting his behavior, accepting correction for school work, obeying pretty much anybody, and so on.
Among other unpleasant scenes this week, he had a complete meltdown when I gave him some correction about writing dialogue.
I love writing. I think Grant has the potential to be a fabulous writer. He is truly creative, and his natural take on the world is from quite a different angle than how most see it. For his age, he is extremely well-read in both fiction and non-fiction. He has a solid grasp of grammar. He has a great sense of humor. All of those things could add up to a best-seller someday.
However, I’ve been trying to explain to him that when he writes, unless it’s for personal journal use, it needs to be in a form where people can understand what he’s written. It needs to communicate. In other words, writing unpackages and opens up the the world of the mind of the author for his reader. But, if there are gaps in explanation and leaps of assumption, in addition to structural errors in the actual writing itself, then people are not going to be able to appreciate what he’s written because they won’t understand it, and/or won’t take the time to slog through his written work to decipher what he meant, which is often not apparent upon first (or even second or third) glance.
I’m not able to convince him that my desire is for him to be a better writer so that people (both now and in the future) can better appreciate him. All he hears is that he’s done it wrong, which he rejects.
But, maybe God had me recall to mind several encouraging things, lately, about Grant so that I wouldn’t lose it altogether and become a bundle of frustration, banging my head against the nearest solid object. It’s hard, though, for me to see the big picture at times, when the daily details are whipping me.
Lord, help me.