“Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed.” — G.K. Chesterton
I saw this quote posted on a friend’s Facebook status, and fell in love with it. There are some people who believe that children’s books should not deal with darkness. Nothing should be scary, and no serious topics dealt with. Everything should be comforting, light and happy.
How boring.
Yes, some children cannot handle scary things in books, and maybe a literary diet with more sunshine and roses is best for them. But books are a way for kids to put words to their feelings of fear and to learn to vanquish that fear. After all, if a child is scared to death of a book, how will that child deal with the scary things in real life?
Children are not blind, nor are they stupid. They see the same awful things in this world as we do, no matter how hard we try to protect them. Children, however, often lack the tools to process and deal with the evil in the world. Heck, sometimes even adults lack those tools! Many children’s books, fairy tales in particular, face the evil and show that it can be abolished. Good can triumph. J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, just to name two successful series, prove that kids are open to reading about the dark side of life, and cheer for protagonists who can beat the darkness back. It helps empower children, to have them see children win out against evil done by adults.
Not allowing children’s literature to explore the darkness in our world does a disservice to children. Yes, here there be dragons. But here also be dragon slayers.
Raising the Next Generation of Writers – CoronaLife Day 222
I walk every day for exercise, about 2.5 miles. Sometimes my 10-year-old daughter walks with me. She often says she wants to be a writer, and our chats can revolve around that—or about any of the hundred other things swirling in her brain.
Today we were walking in companionable silence when suddenly she says, “What do you think would happen?”
I ask, “To what?”
She smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She looks off into the distance and says, “I’m not sure I should ask you this. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m silly.”
I take her hand. “You can tell me anything.”
Her voice is low, hesitant. “What—what if—if Harry Potter had two sisters no one knew anything about?” She doesn’t look at me.
Fan fiction. She is afraid I will think fanfic is silly.
Instead, I tell her about the not one, not two, but three fanfic series I wrote with my best friend. About 15 books in all. I explain that lots of writers start out writing fan fiction. Not only is it loads of fun, but it helps you learn how to tell a story. By working with an existing structure, an existing universe, you get to play and hone your skills at the same time.
Her next smile wasn’t sheepish—it was broad and bright, showing her two side gaps where her teeth haven’t grown in yet. And then the floodgates opened and I was treated to 40 minutes of her Harry Potter fan fiction, wherein two female characters (representing her and her best friend) are secretly sisters of Harry who also escaped the killing curse that night.
Seeing the enthusiasm and confidence that poured from her once she knew she wasn’t silly reminded me that we older writers (both in age and in writing years) need to be mindful of the young ones. Most of us have found our community, our support system. The young ones haven’t. They are out there thinking they are silly. Or that their creativity is something to hide because a lot of people think “day dreaming” is a waste of time.
So if any of you writers has a young creative in your life (doesn’t have to be a writer), encourage the dreaming. Make them see that imagination is a gift. Let them know they are not alone. That their gift has value. Just give them permission to “be”—and watch them grow.