At the end of another day of grim events and darker portents, I want to share these words from Isaac Bashevis Singer‘s Nobel Prize acceptance speech. It’s a reminder that creation can begin with joy, delight, curiosity and wonder – and finish there too, no matter how many storms you must endure on the path. I have loved creating art with children for similar reasons to Singer’s and because their straightforward engagement with art is a good test of what’s worthwhile.
Ladies and Gentlemen: There are five hundred reasons why I began to write for children, but to save time I will mention only ten of them.
1) Children read books, not reviews. They don’t give a hoot about the critics.
2) Children don’t read to find their identity.
3) They don’t read to free themselves of guilt, to quench the thirst for rebellion, or to get rid of alienation.
4) They have no use for psychology.
5) They detest sociology.
6) They don’t try to understand Kafka or Finnegans Wake.
7) They still believe in God, the family, angels, devils, witches, goblins, logic, clarity, punctuation, and other such obsolete stuff.
8) They love interesting stories, not commentary, guides, or footnotes.
9) When a book is boring, they yawn openly, without any shame or fear of authority.
10) They don’t expect their beloved writer to redeem humanity. Young as they are, they know that it is not in his power. Only the adults have such childish illusions.
Read the speech on the Nobel website.
The photo above, showing a statue of Isaac Bashevis Singer in Bilgoraj, is from Wikimedia
François Matarasso 
_-_DSC00455_v1.jpg){kind=link}
Responses to “Reasons to write for children”
Francois, I read your posts with joy and with a heart singing – for you bring so much to my little table in life. I enjoy unwrapping your words and reading again. These ones of writing for children, we can all learn so much from. I have just sent them onto a good friend who writes for children. Your recent post about singing in the darkness I read out at the National Arts in Hospitals AGM as we were starting to overthink and endlessly go round in circles. I said, let’s stop and listen to what Francois has shared. People came up afterwards and said thank you – so I continue to extend my thanks. Your words are golden in my day – as I say, I upwrap and write them out, or re-read them and pass them on. I have some written up on my wall at work. I so value your thoughts and understanding, unravelling’s and joys. You are a legend and I learn so much. I’m so sorry the last couple of years seem to have see-sawed with things for you. But thank you for sharing what that brings too. Out of that you even bring light and love. I wished you ran this crazy world. But in many ways what you share does, the kindnesses, the hope, the humour. The realness. I believe again. And the magic lives on. Thank you always. Griselda
LikeLike
Hello Griselda, I really don’t know what to say to this other than thank you. Anything else would be false in one way or another. I’m touched by all you say and grateful that you chose to say it: there are always reasons for not taking that kind of risk. It is precious to know that what I write reaches you and I hope I value the gift of attention at its true worth. In an age when there’s so much talking (mea maxima culpa) those who listen are especially important. There’s wisdom in listening, often more than in talking. We might never meet but the exchange of words in cyberspace – or art – can be as meaningful as the material world. I wish you continued happiness in your work, for you and those you work with. François
LikeLike