Writing is one of those hot-button topics that can send parents into a full-blown panic. It’s a skill we all need, and yet it feels like it’s vanishing faster than my enthusiasm for making packed lunches by midweek. From toddlers clutching crayons to teenagers relying on emojis as their primary form of expression, the ability to actually put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard in a structured way) is becoming a lost art.
Now, I’ll admit—I was never cut out for Twitter. The idea of summarising my thoughts in 280 characters is as foreign to me as the concept of a ‘relaxing’ family holiday. On the flip side, my children’s messages to me are so abbreviated they might as well be written in Morse code. Honestly, I spent a whole year thinking LOL stood for ‘lots of love’— yes I am that person and still prefer my version.
Writing is, at its core, communication, and if we take a cue from Alan Pease (who argued that men are genetically predisposed to reading maps while women excel at talking), then it stands to reason that boys will use fewer words than girls—both in conversation and on paper. Science, apparently, is on their side. But this doesn’t mean they get a free pass when their handwriting looks like a spider skittered through an ink puddle and did a victory lap across the page.
Many parents despair over their children’s writing—particularly their sons’—but let’s be realistic. Writing is a skill, but it’s not the only skill they need. Rumour has it that in the not-so-distant future, exams will be sat entirely on computers. Still, we want them to at least be able to scrawl a legible birthday card to Grandma.
Let’s talk practicality. iPads? Great for keeping kids occupied at a restaurant. Terrible for handwriting development. Pencils require muscle memory, control, and fine motor skills—things you don’t get from swiping a screen. A trick I always share with parents is the ‘fence posts’ technique: if the vertical lines in letters are straight and firm, the rest of the writing follows suit. Simple but transformative.
And here’s another thing—correcting every single mistake is a surefire way to make kids loathe writing. No one wants to see a page covered in red pen. The priority should be getting their ideas down, because let’s face it—there are no marks for an empty page. Editing can come later. If you need a magic wand for improving creative writing, let me introduce you to my best friend: Descriptosaurus. This book is a game-changer for turning ‘the big dog ran fast’ into something worthy of a budding novelist.
Of course, as kids get older, writing takes on a new form—GCSE essays. At this point, the struggle isn’t just getting words onto the page, but making them actually answer the question. Structuring an argument, analysing sources, and keeping their points relevant is a minefield. The PEEL method (Point, Evidence, Explain, Link) should be tattooed on their foreheads—or at least their notebooks.
Then, before we know it, they’re crafting the ultimate boss-level piece of writing: the personal statement. This is the point where they suddenly forget they’ve ever achieved anything noteworthy in their entire existence. Parents, brace yourselves for the inevitable ‘I have nothing to write’ meltdown. The key here? Start early, make them brainstorm, and remind them that they are, in fact, far more interesting than they think.
At the end of the day, writing—whether it’s a toddler’s first scribbles, a GCSE essay, or a university application—is about communication. It’s a skill that will serve them for life, so let’s nurture it. And if all else fails, at least teach them to text in full sentences so we don’t need a decoder ring to figure out what they’re trying to say.