Writing Our Way Closer: Helping My Grandchildren Write Has Strengthened Our Bond
BY DONNE DAVIS
Writing runs in my family, and it has become one of the most meaningful ways I’ve connected with my three grandchildren throughout their lives. My late husband was a technical writer. I’ve written a book, numerous articles, and blog posts on grandparenting and rituals. My daughter-in-law has written three books, and both her parents are writers. With that kind of lineage, it’s no surprise that all three of my grandchildren are strong, expressive writers.
My two oldest grandchildren were homeschooled through high school. Jay, 22 (they/them), has been an avid reader and writer since they were eight. Amelia, 18, excelled academically and earned 42 units of community college credit while still in high school. And then there’s the youngest, Sophia, 11, already a published author. Her first book, The Girl Who Never Brushed Her Teeth, came out in 2023 in both English and Spanish. Her second book, The Not-So-Perfect Days of Middle School, will be published next spring.
Where It All Began
My support started organically during Jay and Amelia’s homeschooling years. I happily stepped into the role of coach, editor, cheerleader, and gentle guide—not doing the writing for them, but helping them uncover clarity and confidence. They both loved books, and when my daughter took them to the library story hour, they would proudly return home with up to 30 books each.
As the years went on, our work naturally progressed. I helped them brainstorm high-school essays, shape community college assignments, and talk through ideas for early college papers. Watching them evolve from needing my steady hand to becoming independent thinkers and writers was a joy I didn’t anticipate.
The Big Milestones
When I asked Jay to reflect on our writing journey, they immediately recalled the marathon sessions we spent on their University of California application essays during the 2020 COVID lockdown. Together, we sifted through the six personal-insight prompts, choosing the four that best captured their accomplishments and personality. I loved pointing out strengths and talents Jay sometimes overlooked in themselves, and they later told me how much that meant.
Throughout high school and college, Jay continued to ask for help polishing drafts. “The more you helped me,” they said, “the more confident I became in making my own edits.”
Amelia’s memories go back to 11th grade, when she enrolled in an American Literature course at the community college. Her first major assignment—a 750-word analytical essay—felt intimidating then, though now she laughs at how small that seems compared to her college papers, which easily run three or four times that length.
Our sessions became a blend of writing, reflection, and lively conversation. When she explained an assignment, I often asked her to talk through what she was really trying to say. She’d think for a moment, then begin typing into our shared Google doc as she sorted her thoughts out loud.
“Writing those essays helped me learn more about myself,” Amelia told me. “And it was fun to discuss ideas with you.”
She remembers the building blocks we focused on: logical order, strong introductions, supporting evidence, and—perhaps most of all—transitions and conclusions. She still hears my voice reminding her about commas and my favorite acronym, “DTC: ditch the comma!” Today, she recognizes how those early lessons gave her confidence, especially the understanding that every good piece of writing starts with a rough draft.
Moments like these—watching my grandchildren gain skill, clarity, and self-trust—have been profoundly meaningful. Their essays became gateways into deeper conversations about who they are, where they’re headed, and what they hope for. I’ve felt lucky to witness those unfolding futures.
A New Generation of Storytellers
Sophia, the youngest, brings her own sparkle to our writing partnership. She loves poetry, much like her mother and grandmother, and has already had a short story published in a young-writers anthology. She dreamed up her first book at just eight years old, wrote it herself, and I helped edit it. Seeing it published on Amazon, in two languages, was a thrill for both of us.
Her second book grew out of the jitters she felt as she transitioned from sixth grade to middle school. She wanted to explore themes of friendship, bullying, and belonging—framed through the experiences of a book-loving, slightly anxious protagonist who isn’t sure she fits in.
Last summer, during one of our weekly Zoom calls, she announced her goal: to finish the book by the end of summer. I introduced her to the idea of S.M.A.R.T. goals—Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, and Time-sensitive—and together we created a plan. One chapter a week, read aloud to me on weekends, followed by plot discussions, character tweaks, and plenty of encouragement.
Watching her develop her own voice was magical. She absorbed every suggestion for making descriptions more vivid, while staying wonderfully true to her humor and heart. The only time I challenged her plot was at the very end, where something didn’t quite ring true. We brainstormed, she re-imagined it, and the new ending became one of my favorite parts.
When I asked what our work meant to her, she said simply, “Without you, it wouldn’t be as great as it is.” She appreciated my flexibility when life got busy and valued the way we problem-solved together. Hearing that from an 11-year-old author was a moment I’ll never forget.
What Writing Together Has Taught All of Us
Looking back, I realize these collaborations have been about far more than writing. For my grandchildren, the deeper lessons were learning structure, persistence, and the bravery to express themselves. For me, the lessons were about patience, presence, and the joy of watching their minds expand. Our writing time became a safe space—somewhere they could ask questions, experiment, make mistakes, and trust that I’d be right there with them.
They learned communication, critical thinking, problem-solving, and the discipline of meeting deadlines. I learned how to support without taking over, guide without steering too hard, and listen deeply to who they were becoming.
The Bond That Words Built
More than anything, writing with my grandchildren has become “our thing”—a shared ritual that has kept us close through childhood, adolescence, college, and now early adulthood. Many of our writing sessions blossomed into conversations about life, values, fears, and big dreams. Through their stories and essays, they invited me into their inner worlds, and that is a privilege I treasure.
I don’t know what they’ll write next, but I hope to be part of their stories for as long as they’ll have me. And I know that, whatever they create, the bond we’ve built through words will continue to shape all of us.
Read more from Donne Davis in GRAND
