Leaning into Joy: The Hardest Lesson in Writers' Workshop For Kids... and Parents
Why experiencing joy in writing can feel risky—and how we can protect it for our kids.
"Joy is deeply vulnerable. We're afraid to lean into it." — Brené Brown
When I first read those words, they stopped me in my tracks. Of all the emotions we experience—fear, disappointment, even failure—why would joy be the one that makes us hesitate?
But then, I thought about my writers.
I thought about the student who lights up while writing fanfiction but is terrified of feedback—because what if it's not good enough?
And she’s not alone.
I see it all the time—the writer who thrives in the world of their story but freezes when asked to share. The writer who clings to writer’s block like a shield, afraid to loosen their protective grip. The writer who refuses to set goals because what if they don’t meet them? What would that say about them—not just as a writer, but as a person?
The more I observe my writers, the more I see it:
Joy isn't just an emotion. It's a risk.
It’s risky because the things we love the most—the things we pour ourselves into—are the ones that feel the most fragile.
Why We Protect the Things We Love
Brené Brown talks about how we build armor to protect ourselves from emotional risk. That armor can look like perfectionism, self-doubt, or even avoidance. And when I think about the kids in my workshop, I wonder:
Do we protect the things that bring us joy more than anything else?
I think the answer is yes.
I once worked with a student who wrote purely for joy—fanfiction about her favorite characters, completely immersed in the world she was building. She didn't write because she had to. She wrote because she loved it.
But she also hated being told she needed to "improve" her work. She recoiled at the idea of feedback, of setting goals.
When I asked her why, she shrugged.
"I don't know."
But I do know why.
Because I was the same at her age. And I am the same now.
Writing brings me such joy. Even now, writing this blog, coffee beside me, next to my garden window, doing something I truly love—I feel it.
But I also feel fear.
Because this thing that brings me joy—this thing I'm so happy doing—will be seen. Perceived. Judged.
And if I, an adult, feel this tension, imagine how much more intense it is for a 12-year-old.
When kids write for joy, they're not just creating stories. They're putting themselves on the page.
And that level of vulnerability can make even the most well-intentioned feedback feel like a threat.
Roya Dedeaux, in Connect with Courage, describes something similar in a different context—when a child loves video games, and a parent criticizes that passion, it attaches a stigma to the thing that once brought them joy.
The same thing happens in writing.
But here's the other side of joy.
I work with a student who finds joy in writing about the natural world. For more than two years, I've followed her journey as she's researched and explored the things that inspire her—lemurs, biology, sailing and herpetology. She even started her own blog, Adventures of a Young Naturalist, which has grown into something incredible. (Go and subscribe after you finish reading this; it's incredible work!)
But in the early days, her vulnerability showed.
She wrestled with editing, posting, facing corrections, and handling rejection. Feedback felt painful—for both of us. There were so many moments when she could have backed away from the challenge, when she could have chosen to protect herself from the discomfort.
But she didn't. She leaned into joy.
And now? That same 12-year-old writer emails experts and high-performance indivduals in the scientific, business, tech and sports field to request interviews. She researches, publishes, and connects with professionals bravely.
I look forward to our mentorship sessions every week. They remind me that joy isn't just an experience—it's a committment. It's something we have to fight for, lean into, and protect.
If she avoided the vulnerability that comes with joy—if we had tried to shield her from the discomfort—she wouldn't have had the courage to push forward.
Joy is powerful. But it also asks something of us.
If feedback is given carelessly, if goals feel like judgment, joy can start to feel like something that needs to be hidden or protected.
So, how do we support young writers without making joy feel like a liability?
From Joy to Fear - Should We Set Goals Around Joy?
This is something I'm wrestling with.
Should I help my kids set goals around their creativity, especially when a writer is deeply connected to their work?
Or does goal-setting turn joy into another measure of success—another thing to "achieve" rather than experience?
I don't have a perfect answer, but I do know this: Feedback is never neutral.
If I ask a student what they're working on and they respond, "Oh, it's nothing special," I know there's something unspoken there. They're already bracing for judgment.
That's why I don't ask, "Why are you writing this?" Instead, I ask:
"What's important to you about this piece?"
That slight shift—from why to what's important—changes everything.
It removes the need to justify their writing. It lets them decide what matters. And it helps me frame my feedback in a way that supports their intention, rather than imposing my own expectations.
For writers who are hesitant about feedback, I've learned that the best approach is trust first, stay curious, critique later. It's why I never give unsolicited feedback (pro tip: it never goes well). Instead, I wait for them to invite me in. Because when feedback is a choice, rather than an obligation, it feels less like a threat and more like a conversation.
Intention-Setting Might Protect Joy
I'm not going to lie: I still worry that setting intentions before Writers' Workshop pushes kids too far into production mode—that it would make creativity feel like work.
But so far, I've found the opposite.
When young writers take a moment to name what’s important about their session—whether it’s discovery, fun, curiosity, or self-expression—it actually protects their joy.
Why? Because they get to define success on their own terms.
A writing session isn’t just successful because someone finished a chapter. It can be successful because:
They had fun exploring an idea.
They figured out something new about their characters.
They realized they wanted to try a different approach.
When progress is measured in discovery rather than completion, the fear of failure starts to dissolve.
But joy in writing isn’t always about the writing itself.
For one student, joy came from learning alongside others. He showed up to Writers’ Workshop not because he loved writing, but because he loved being with other kids.
I remember his mother’s concern when he first joined—she worried because he wasn’t a fiction reader. She told me, “He’s not really into books.”
That was six months ago.
Last Christmas, I got a message from her. “You’re not going to believe this—he’s reading Warrior Cats!”
Warrior Cats is a big deal in Writers’ Workshop. The kids have their own fanfiction club dedicated to the series, constantly discussing the characters, arcs, and world-building.
And this student? He didn’t want to miss out anymore.
His joy in being part of the group made him vulnerable—it asked him to step into something unfamiliar.
Now, he’s smashing through the Warrior Cats series and has written multiple fanfiction arcs of his own. And he’s not stopping there. He told me his next goal is Wings of Fire—and then even more.
His joy made him vulnerable.
But leaning into that joy unlocked something new.
Protecting Joy in the Writing Process
This is why joy needs to be protected—not by isolating it, but by creating spaces where kids can safely take risks, make discoveries, and grow.
And that’s not always easy.
I’ve noticed that the kids who are most hesitant about feedback and goal-setting often respond best to 1:1 mentorship conversations.
In a small, trusted space, they feel safe enough to admit what they’re really thinking:
"I don’t want to share because I don’t want people to think it’s bad."
"I like writing, but I don’t know if I’m good at it."
"I don’t know if this is a ‘real’ story."
These quiet, honest moments are where the real work happens. They remind me that acknowledging joy is often the hardest part.
And I want to be honest here:
I haven’t figured it all out yet.
Most of the biggest breakthroughs I have with kids—the real lightbulb moments—happen in 1:1 mentorship sessions and coaching. I haven’t yet figured out how to protect everyone’s joy all the time in Writers’ Workshop.
More than likely, it’s a responsibility I can’t uphold alone. But I know that’s something I’ll always be mindful of and always trying to figure out.
It’s my promise—to the kids, to their parents, and to myself.
Because if joy is one of the most vulnerable states, then protecting it should be one of our most intentional acts.
Honoring the Vulnerability of Joy
Writing, like any creative pursuit, requires courage.
It's not just about producing words on a page. It's about putting something deeply personal into the world—and that's terrifying.
The more joy a student finds in writing, the more vulnerable they feel about sharing it. That's why our job isn't just to give feedback or set goals—it's to protect that joy.
That might mean:
Letting them take their time before sharing.
Asking what's important to them instead of assuming.
Framing feedback as a way to elevate their strengths rather than fix their weaknesses.
Allowing space for joy without turning it into an obligation.
As I reflect on this, I keep coming back to Brené Brown's words:
"Joy is one of the most vulnerable states."
If that's true, then maybe protecting joy should be one of our most intentional acts.
What about you?
Have you ever felt vulnerable about something you love?
How do you create spaces where joy feels safe rather than fragile for your kids?
How do you protect joy and lean into it with your kids?
I'd love to continue the conversation—drop your thoughts in the comments.
Referenced Thinkers
Brené Brown – Daring Greatly and The Gifts of Imperfection (I Love Brené Brown)
Discusses vulnerability, courage, and why joy is one of the most vulnerable emotions.
Roya Dedeaux – Connect with Courage
Explores how criticism can attach stigma to joy, particularly in creative pursuits like writing and gaming.