Somewhere in my recent reading I read a piece of writing advice that spoke a little at the time, but resonated further later on. The writer, speaking about poetry, advised writers to be succinct – to say what they want to say and then stop. Too often, he said, a poet will presume the reader is a little stupid, and not only say what they want to say, but then say it again differently, or even interpret what they’ve had to say.

Yesterday, I wrote my daily poem from the perspective of a child whose mother is an author. I imagined the poem giving all sorts of examples of how the child appears in his mother’s books. But, in line ten, before I got to the list, I wrote ‘those characters are me.’ Suddenly, that earlier advice came back to me. A list would be nice, it would certainly make the poem longer, but was it necessary? I’d just made the point of the poem: The kid sees himself in the stories his mum tells. So, I stopped.

Then, just to be sure, I read the poem to my kids – and guess, what? They got it. They didn’t need me to explain that the kid sees himself in those stories. Just saying ‘those characters are me’ was enough.

I wish I could remember exactly who offered the advice I read (I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading lately) so I could properly attribute it, but, like so much good advice, it took a little while to make its mark and so someone is missing out on the credit. But I wanted to share it, because, whether you write poetry or prose, it’s advice that bears heeding, especially when writing for kids.

Children are smart. They can interpret things for themselves. Give them the information and let them have the satisfaction of arriving at the answer, the emotion, the response. Use your dialogue, your description, or your rhythm to create that response – then leave them to it.

And I’m going to say no more – for fear of not taking my own advice.