The Endangered Bookworm: Are Children Reading Less? When I think of a bookworm, I  picture a child who packs a book in their bag “for just in case”, or a child who reads by torchlight long after lights out, or a child who doesn’t hear their parents’ request to set the table because their nose is buried in a book. When last did you see a child reading like this (outside of the narrow confines of school reading)?  Is the book worm just another name on our soon-to-be-extinct list? Will the sight of children immersed in a book on a park bench, or in a restaurant, a busy shop or in a waiting room become a rarer and rarer sight?.  Research has definitely shown that children are reading less today than in the past. Research by the National Literacy Trust indicates that in 2019 only 53% of children read for pleasure, which is down from previous years.Recent studies such as the Scholastic Kids & Family Reading Report (2023) shows that children’s reading enjoyment, frequency and sense of  importance declines with age. So what is threatening the bookworm?  Digital distractions: The rise of smartphones, tablets and digital media competes with traditional reading and ways of consuming stories. Time constraints: We’re all busy, kids too. Busy schedules and extracurricular activities leave little free time for leisure reading. Changing interests: there is an ever-expanding menu of entertainment options It’s much more likely that we see children’s faces immersed in the world offered by smartphone or tablet screens: games, scrolling, texting, watching. So if bookworms are slowly becoming extinct, is that not just the inevitability of evolution, of one form of media taking over from another?  This is true and there are many ways in which screen-reading has added to our reading habits rather than taken away, but screen-reading does not foster deeper reading skills. Our screens are packed full of meaningless distractions that we do not need to resist when reading a book. Screens offer that buzz of instant, effortless novelty – one YouTube short or Instagram reel quickly becomes a powerful current of ceaseless new content that washes away our attention. Children are reading less and in this environment, we do need to rethink our approach to reading and building reading habits. You can follow me over on Instagram for some tips to build better reading habits and get children reading.

How to get lost in a book – Final November workshop! I’m excited to announce that the SA teacher union,Naptosa, will be repeating my workshop How to Get Lost in a Book: Pathways for Guiding Young Readers. It’s designed to equip teachers with a map of children’s literature that will help them navigate into the colourful world of children’s books and in doing so, help them become better guides for the young readers in their classrooms.   What are the outcomes? Participants will: -Gain a deeper understanding of what literature for children is -Identify the elements and characteristics of stories for children  -Develop a deeper understanding of reading for pleasure  -Discuss didacticism vs pleasure in approaches to children’s literature -Understand the role of enabling adult and how to encourage reading -Value and encourage diversity in children’s literature -Gain a stronger sense of direction or reorientation towards children’s literature   Who is it for? -South African teachers in the Foundation and Intermediate Phases -teachers who are concerned with the reading crisis -teachers who want to learn more about children’s literature and relevant topics in that field -teachers who want to foreground a love of reading in their classrooms   Where do these pathways into the world of children’s literature lead?  To adventure, definitely. To far away lands and distant planets. To the twists and turns of an exciting mystery, for sure. But the most important aspect of these pathways is to show children how to “get lost in a book”: that delicious, totally immerse experience where our story and the story of the characters becomes breathlessly close, where the real world recedes for a bit and we completely forget where we are.   Why is this important in the context of education?  South Africa is facing a reading crisis where more than 78% of Grade 4 children can’t read for meaning in any language. To overcome the crisis and produce readers, we need more than just children who have mastered the basic mechanics of reading; we need children who want to read and who will willingly practice this skill. We need to reconceptualise and centre the pleasure of reading.   How do I join? -It is facilitated by me -13 November 2023 15:00-17:00 (SAST), online -It’s open to all union members and nonmembers  -Participants receive a 20% discount on books from happyreader.co.za -Click here for more info and to register

“Just a children’s book” When I tell people that I write children’s books, the response is often “how nice”. Nice like home-made muffins or craft glitter. Or depending on how literary the other person is, there may be an awkward moment of silence, into which a number of unspoken things fall, such as: not a serious writer then.   This is not the response of all people of course, but enough for it to take on the features of a pattern.   Children’s literature is important in the realm of childhood and those adults charged with raising children: teachers, parents, librarians, but outside of this realm, not so much. Children’s books are more often than not, the add-ons to literary festivals and few literature departments at universities study them.    Because they are “just children’s books” after all, lacking the gravitas of “real” literature.   Recently, Katherine Rundell’s delightful little book Why You Should Read Children’s Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise, came into my hands. It restored my sense of the importance of children’s literature – not just for children, but for adults too.    Rundell weaves together a poignant argument for why children’s literature matters for adults, for why it isn’t “just” a stepping stone to real literature. Through personal anecdotes, the exploration of some classic tales and historical references, she shows very poignantly why the magic of children’s literature is a timeless treasure trove. One we are allowed to and should dip into in adulthood as well.   She points out that children’s books are specifically written for a section of society that is powerless – without money, without control and who must navigate the world in the knowledge of this vulnerability. Even as adults there will be times in our lives where we must unfortunately meet this old vulnerability and powerlessness again. Rundell encourages us in these moments to return to the safety net of children’s books, because they offer us hope.   “Children’s novels, to me, spoke, and still speak, of hope. They say: look, this is what bravery looks like. This is what generosity looks like. They tell me, through the medium of wizards and lions and talking spiders, that this world we live in is a world of people who tell jokes and work and endure. Children’s books say: the world is huge. They say: hope counts for something. They say: bravery will matters, wit will matter, empathy will matter, love will matter. These things may or may not be true. I do not know. I hope they are. I think it is urgently necessary to hear them and to speak them.” Do you write children’s books? What are your thoughts on the idea that they are “just” children’s stories?

The Contradictory Narratives of Productivity And Rest Writing is hard. That effort of forcing yourself to sit at a desk pushing around uncooperative sentences and fiddling with bits of plot that just don’t want to connect properly. Rolling up your sleeves and getting on with it takes a superhuman effort when there are just so many other things to do. Like check Instagram, look up random information on the internet, make a cup of coffee, make a shopping list, give the dog a scratch, decide to do a load of laundry, decide to take the dog out, sit back down and check email, and somehow end up watching funny pet reels instead. I’m sure you know how it goes. We all have a version of this.  Much has been said about hustle culture and our much neglected need for rest. Our world, and through that, our lives, are measured by outcomes, goals, deliverables and achievements. We are in a constant marathon against our to-do lists. There’s little space to step outside of that tide of activity and just rest. To embrace doing nothing without feeling guilty. To recognise the deep exhaustion at the end of the day after work, chores, caring for a family and feel in your bones you just can’t, and be okay with it. And yet, I also have to acknowledge that without forcing myself back to the desk, to pick up the seemingly hopeless mess of a story and just get on with it, I don’t think I’d get anything done. The stories would not come together; they would remain a junk drawer of snippets and spare parts and rough ideas. It’s a bit like running – the first few kilometers are the hardest, then it gets easier. Sometimes pushing through the hard beginning is what’s needed.  I also know that the more tired I am, the easier it is to get derailed by the funny pet reels and the Google-searches for random and totally irrelevant information, neither of which offer any real restorative rest. For those of us writing in time we’ve painstakingly gathered from all the forgotten cracks and corners of our lives – between work and home, and between the needs of others – it feels even more devastating when we can make nothing productive of these hours.  Which all brings me back to the messy space between rest and productivity, between knowing when to put the pen down and when to push through. Being productive depends on rest, on gaining breathing space to recharge our creativity and yet, so much of what we do when we are not being productive is also not rest in that restorative way. As endearing as it is to watch a video of baby ducklings snuggle on top of a puppy, I can’t say I come away from this feeling revived and full of ideas. How do you navigate this messy space between rest and productivity? I write a bit more about my personal experiences of writing and some lessons learned in my more-or-less monthly newsletter. If you are interested, sign up here.

Marketing and content in the age of information (or 6 ways to create more headspace) Marketing and content in the age of information (or 6 ways to create more headspace) What does it mean to create content online? As a writer, I struggle a bit with this question. I write books for children but beyond that, there is the expectation to create more, to post on social media as often as possible. The more the better. Regularly, even if you have nothing to say. There are marketing content plans out there to fill those awkward silences. This is what it means to market your book or business, to put yourself out there. Apparently. I don’t know about you, but I find the internet a noisy, crowded place. There are so many voices: the yells of click bait, the quick fix prophets of “5 ways to live more joyfully” (lol – see what I did with my title there?), the vacuous yet insistent news articles that could have been a sentence. It feels like all this content is sticking out its elbows, taking up space and jostling for my attention. And it’s kind of exhausting. This is not to say there isn’t anything of value and substance online. To the contrary, despite this onslaught and noise, there are poetic posts that strike a chord and insightful long form pieces and helpful podcasts and informative websites. The problem is that I find it quite a mental effort to hack through it all to find a quiet clearing to absorb these gems; to really read, to really listen. To really read needs breathing space and a bit of peace and quiet, which, with this frenzy of content production, is harder and harder to find. I’ve realised a lot of this is about headspace: a certain amount of emptiness is necessary for creativity to take root. It’s also about learning to limit the input; to filter, sort, curate. These are the skills I need to practice. Which is to say, these thoughts have formed into the following six guidelines for me: Not all space needs to be filled. Seize those empty moments, don’t fill it with mindless scrolling.Just be. Go for a walk to clear my head of content. Be active rather than passive when it comes to seeking out online content: actively seeking out quality content rather than the first vaguely interesting thing that pops up in my feed. Follow and engage with those people that create the kind of content I like and value. Trust their recommendations. Have a limit on the time spent absorbing online content because it’s exhausting. Rather switch to the printed page and embrace the gentler tiredness that comes from reading that. Give up. Accept you can’t read it all. Accept you will miss things and be unaware and that’s okay. So, my point is simple: less is more. Quite a while back I stopped posting things if I didn’t feel like I had anything to say or share. This used to make me feel as if I was doing “being an author”  all wrong. To be successful, authors were supposed to post frequently, loudly and use their elbows more. This year, I think I will let go of that. What do you think?