Apples and the tree

My sons are writing a book with their friends who happen to be another set of twins. They are using Google docs and each contributing chapters based on their own point of view. It is wonderful to watch them get so excited to sit down and write and to listen to them flesh out different ideas. Their imaginations are vast and inspired. I’m so proud. And a little jealous.

I think that sometimes as adults we struggle with our imaginations. Too much “reality” has been experienced and it can become difficult to simply let our minds create what they will, to indulge in answering the question of “what if” with no limits, no right or wrong ideas. I have so many half-written stories because at some point I’ve questioned whether what I’m writing rings true, if it could really have happened that way, if my characters would really think or act a certain way. I’ve become paralyzed by whether my ideas are real enough.

This just doesn’t happen with kids. They have an idea and they run with it. The crazier, the better. Magic is not something to be questioned with them. Only believed.

I should learn from their openness. Maybe they’ll partner with me on their next project.


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