Archive for July 2025

Think about a time you were told you were “too” something—too loud, too quiet, too sensitive, too anything. Capture the shame you felt in that moment. Now flip it: Write about a situation where that exact trait became your superpower. Create a child character who gets the same criticism but discovers their “too much” quality makes them uniquely valuable and is exactly what the world needs.

We all read faces long before we learn to read words. We decode expressions: the tightness around someone’s eyes, the way a mouth curves when happiness is real or forced. Some people become especially skilled at this silent language. It’s a great skill to have!

What is the most important thing you’ve ever understood just by looking at someone’s face? Think about a moment when someone’s expression told you—or could have told you—everything you needed to know without a single word being spoken.

Write down everything you can think of that can be “read” without words: mood, worry, excitement, a need for comfort, or space.

Write for fourteen minutes about a character who notices something crucial in someone’s face. Maybe they see that their teacher is sad despite her smile, or that the new kid is scared rather than unfriendly. Let your character become a translator of expressions, showing readers how much communication happens without words.

Some children find their sanctuary not in their bedroom or a favorite chair, but in the spaces between earth and sky, between the everyday world and the realm of imagination.

Think about the secret places of childhood—where children go when they need to think, dream, or simply be. Consider how physical spaces can become emotional landscapes, how a favorite spot starts to feel like a sanctuary.

Write for fifteen minutes about a character who has found their perfect spot for reading, imagining, playing, or daydreaming—a place that transforms both the stories on the page and the way they experience their own lives. Let the setting be as much a character as the child. What happens if the setting becomes the main character? What does this place know about your protagonist—and the world—that others don’t see?

We’ve all experienced walking into a space where we don’t see ourselves reflected. Spend five minutes remembering a time when you felt like the only one: the only one with your accent, your story, your way of seeing the world. What did you notice that others missed? What gift did your differentness bring to that room?
Now set your timer for fifteen minutes and tell the story of a child’s first day somewhere new. You can focus on how they find the courage to connect, write about a character who brings something entirely their own to a new place, or explore what they discover about themselves when they realize they don’t need to fit in.

Children often believe adults have everything figured out—until they witness a grown-up fumbling with something new. These moments can shift a child’s understanding of how the world works.

Think of a time you watched someone you thought “knew everything” struggle to learn something. Maybe a parent trying to use new technology, an aunt learning to play chess, or a grandparent asking you to explain a phrase they don’t understand. For five minutes, remember how it felt to see that adult in their learning moment—the surprise and pride of realizing you knew something they didn’t.

Write for fifteen minutes about a character who discovers that the adults in their life are still learning too. Maybe they watch their dad struggle to braid hair and offer to teach him, or see their teacher admit they don’t know the answer to a question. Let your character experience the beautiful revelation that “not knowing” isn’t something you outgrow—it’s something that is universal, creates opportunities for sharing, and keeps life interesting at every age.