Man made thunder.

I sneezed, a few days ago, rather loudly, in front of my three sons. The wave of sound seemed to push them back a bit, particularly Tiarnan, four, as if it were uncomfortable to hear. I was catapulted inward and backward, then, at that observation, to my own childhood. I saw, then, that I had, in some way, become my father, or almost.

I shall explain. When I was a young boy, my father would sometimes sneeze in a way I had heard no other person ever sneeze, before or since. It was not the sneeze of a man, but more of the thunder of the sky. His sneeze was awesomely loud. It was as if someone had let off a fair sized explosive device, right next to my ear: AHHH-HOEEEE!, he would sneeze. It was the kind of sneeze that one would be unsurprised to find had knocked one off one's feet. I used to wonder at how he made so much noise. Yes, he was a big man, with a big chest...but still, that sneeze seemed impossibly loud. I sensed, when he sneezed, the great strength in him. I knew what such a loud noise meant: it meant POWER, of the physical kind. Only a very strong man, could make so much noise, with a simple sneeze.

I have lived forty two years, now. Yet, I have never come across anyone who ever sneezed as loudly as my father did, when I was a young boy. No-one else even comes close. Of course, that means but one thing: his upper body strength, lungs and ribcage, were much more powerfully built than any other person I have heard sneeze - he simply expelled the air, with more force, speed and power. So, what I was hearing, as a boy, was my father's relative strength, compared to the other people I encountered. Perhaps there are other people with louder sneezes still - but, if so, I have never heard them. I suppose, in a way, that leaves me impressed, in much the same way that I was as a young boy.

When I sneeze, now, I see, from the reactions of my children, that they think me loud. Perhaps I am the loudest sneezer they have ever got to hear, in their lives, so far. Yet, I know something they don't: that my sneeze is a whisper, set alongside the ones my father used to explode with. I am a strong man, relatively speaking...but nowhere near as strong as my father was, as a young man. Indeed, perhaps, he is still stronger than me. Even so, when I sneeze now, I feel connected to my father, all those years ago: I feel as if I have become, as he was: the thunderer to my children, the possessor of explosive lungs.

I haven't told them, though, that my father used to sneeze much more loudly than me. I haven't told them that I am a mere echo, in the sneeze department, that my father was. Some day, I shall. But for now, they shall labour under the misperception that their father is the loudest sneezer in the world. Perhaps they will get to hear my father sneeze, one day: then my secret will be out. I am just, as my father used to say: "A chip off the old block"...but he is the Old Block, entire!

If I listen, within, I can still hear my father's thunderous sneeze, still call it to mind. Though I have grown up, it still sounds like thunder...the loudest noise a man's lungs ever made. Isn't it funny the bits of childhood that one holds onto? I have held onto a sneeze, perhaps because it always startled me, to hear how loud it was, each and every time it happened, despite my knowing in advance, just how loud it would be.

For me those sneezes were more than just sneezes: they were the essence of my father, for one of his more notable characteristics, one which no-one could miss, was his physical strength. Each and every time he sneezed, he was announcing that strength to the world. He was saying, without words: "This is who I am!".

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, 10, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, 6 and Tiarnan, 4, this month, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html

I also write of gifted education, child prodigy, child genius, adult genius, savant, megasavant, HELP University College, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, Malaysia, IQ, intelligence and creativity.

There is a review of my blog, on the respected The Kindle Report here: http://thekindlereport.blogspot.com/2010/09/boy-who-knew-too-much-child-prodigy.html

Please have a read, if you would like a critic's view of this blog. Thanks.

You can get my blog on your Kindle, for easy reading, wherever you are, by going to: http://www.amazon.com/Boy-Who-Knew-Too-Much/dp/B0042P5LEE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1284603792&sr=8-1

Please let all your fellow Kindlers know about my blog availability - and if you know my blog well enough, please be so kind as to write a thoughtful review of what you like about it. Thanks.

My Internet Movie Database listing is at: http://imdb.com/name/nm3438598/

Ainan's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3305973/

Syahidah's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3463926/

Our editing, proofreading and copywriting company, Genghis Can, is at http://www.genghiscan.com/

This blog is copyright Valentine Cawley. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. Use only with permission. Thank you.)

Tiarnan's philosophy of finding the lost.

Today, Tiarnan, four, was busily searching around the house, his eyes cast downward, scouring for something. He saw his mother, and looked up, his face all frowns and minor irritation. He had clearly been looking for some time.

"Where is the sharpener, Mummy?", he asked, hoping to be relieved of his, by now, extended search.

"I buy lots of sharpeners.", she said, "Look for one."

Tiarnan's eyes pierced hers, sharply.

"It doesn't matter how many you buy!", he retorted, "It's where you PUT them!"

He had a point. This house has an endless capacity to hide things. Somewhere, no doubt, sixty two sharpeners were huddled away from sight, mischievously.

Tiarnan stalked off, in search of the elusive sharpeners. Syahidah allowed herself to smile at the way he did so.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, 10, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, 6 and Tiarnan, 4, this month, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html

I also write of gifted education, child prodigy, child genius, adult genius, savant, megasavant, HELP University College, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, Malaysia, IQ, intelligence and creativity.

There is a review of my blog, on the respected The Kindle Report here: http://thekindlereport.blogspot.com/2010/09/boy-who-knew-too-much-child-prodigy.html

Please have a read, if you would like a critic's view of this blog. Thanks.

You can get my blog on your Kindle, for easy reading, wherever you are, by going to: http://www.amazon.com/Boy-Who-Knew-Too-Much/dp/B0042P5LEE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1284603792&sr=8-1

Please let all your fellow Kindlers know about my blog availability - and if you know my blog well enough, please be so kind as to write a thoughtful review of what you like about it. Thanks.

My Internet Movie Database listing is at: http://imdb.com/name/nm3438598/

Ainan's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3305973/

Syahidah's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3463926/

Our editing, proofreading and copywriting company, Genghis Can, is at http://www.genghiscan.com/

This blog is copyright Valentine Cawley. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. Use only with permission. Thank you.)

Speaking in code

About a week ago, Ainan came into the dining room where I sat, after dinner, with a pack of cards in his hands. He waved them before him, before he spoke, suggesting perhaps that he referred to them.

His eyes were excited. He clearly wanted to share something. Fintan, seven and Tiarnan, four, had trailed into the room behind him and watched him, with casual interest. It seemed that they waited for him to finish so that they could play a game of cards with him.

Words came out of his mouth and formed sentences that had an elusive quality. Their surface meaning was slightly opaque and just beyond reach. It was as if I wasn't listening closely enough to what he said, to fully understand it. He smiled at me, and seemed to urge me to understanding. He repeated himself then, and I listened even more closely. The words appeared audible in my mind, but I couldn't fully identify what he meant to say. I felt somewhat at a loss. Yet, before me, there was his intense face and his obvious need to communicate something.

He tried again.

I failed again.

Finally, Ainan gave up. He stood still for a moment, a little defeated, perhaps a little disappointed that I had not understood him: "It is an acronym", he whispered to me. "Acronym."

He waited to see if I would understand him. He no longer had the confidence that I would. There was something a little lost in him, then, that I had not, the first time.

I viewed his words, then, in my mind and picked out the first letters. All became clear. He was advising me on tactics on how to play the game - using acronyms to convey his message, so that his little brothers would not know what he had advised.

I looked on him, then, with a sadness I doubt he could read. My prodigious son had thought I would see his hidden message in the words he spoke. He had thought that I would note the acronymic possibilities of his speech and understand him. There is something beyond sad in that. The sadness is this: I am the smartest person Ainan knows...yet, sometimes, even I do not immediately understand what he intends to communicate. This was one example. He had appraised my likelihood of understanding him and thought it reasonable to employ an acronymic code in casual conversation to convey a point, over the heads of his brothers. Yet, I doubt that a single person on Earth would have understood him, without prompting. People don't simply search human speech for acronymic possibilities, without having been given reason to do so.

I know what it is to be Ainan, to have thoughts that are beyond the understanding of all around one...for that was much my own experience of childhood, at times, but it brings a new sadness to me, to see it in Ainan. It is not a sadness, you understand, that he should be like this, but a sadness that there are no others that he can readily communicate the fullest complexities of his thought to, without being met with incomprehension. I am the only person, really, that he can talk to, without moderating his intellectual output, to the limits of his audience - yet, at times, even for me, his meaning can be elusive - not often, you understand, but certainly, it happens.

Then again, there is another aspect to this, that must not be overlooked. Ainan is just ten years old. His mind is still growing and is by no means at its apex. He is but halfway to the top of where he shall one day be - perhaps not even that. The thoughts he can conceive will grow more complex by the year, more elusive, more challenging. Thus it is, that the number of people who can grasp his intentions, his thoughts and understandings, will diminish by the year. There may come a time when, perhaps, there will be no-one who can fully understand him, without careful explanation and great effort. What will his perspective on life be, should that time come to be? What will he think of people? How will he feel that they don't really understand him?

Already I have caught a glimpse of what it must be for him. I saw the glint of disappointment in his eyes, that I had not understood his acronymic code. I saw his stepping back from his excitement, into a careful, evaluative watchfulness, as if to see what would be necessary to make me understand. I saw his surprise at his need to reassess his understanding of my understanding. He hadn't expected that I would not immediately grasp his meaning.

In a way, I failed him in that moment. My role, you see, has always been to understand him, to be there for him as the one he can speak freely to, and be ever understood and appreciated. In that moment, however, I tripped and fell. I could not meet that demand without a hint, without the clue he gave me. I could see that he had not expected that. In a way, however, that is good, for it shows what a good job I have been doing of understanding him. His surprise shows that I had, until then, been largely successful in my role as the one who listens with understanding. It also shows, of course, that he thinks highly of my ability to understand.

I look again, on my memory of how he was, as he was explaining to me, his code. He seems now, to be somewhat vulnerable, a little fragile, as he stood there, making his thought clear. I cannot put a meaning to this, though: it is too opaque to me. Perhaps, he felt my failure as a kind of loss: before there was certainty of understanding...now, there was not. It is difficult to know - but I can see this: I think it is important to him, that I understand him. It is also important to me that I understand him, but this I haven't said.

I am led to ask, one question that I have been postponing: what if he outgrows me, one day? What if the day comes when I find his meaning consistently too elusive? What if he passes beyond my understanding into a realm of his own? Should that day come, it will be a new experience for us both - for I am used to understanding what people say, without difficulty...and Ainan is used to the idea that I, at least, understand him. Should that day come, Ainan will probably be alone, in the intellectual sense, for if I no longer understand him, readily, I very much doubt another would, in his acquaintance. There are too few such people. Though alone in his world, perhaps he will write his understandings and communicate with people throughout time, even if such conversations are innately one-sided. Through the written word, even the deepest thoughts, will finally be understood, one day, by someone - for such thoughts may be pondered at will, for as long as it takes to understand them. The written word will be Ainan's ultimate way to speak his mind. Besides, acronyms are so much easier to spot written down!

Happy thinking, Ainan.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, 10, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, 6 and Tiarnan, 4, this month, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html

I also write of gifted education, child prodigy, child genius, adult genius, savant, megasavant, HELP University College, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, Malaysia, IQ, intelligence and creativity.

There is a review of my blog, on the respected The Kindle Report here: http://thekindlereport.blogspot.com/2010/09/boy-who-knew-too-much-child-prodigy.html

Please have a read, if you would like a critic's view of this blog. Thanks.

You can get my blog on your Kindle, for easy reading, wherever you are, by going to: http://www.amazon.com/Boy-Who-Knew-Too-Much/dp/B0042P5LEE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1284603792&sr=8-1

Please let all your fellow Kindlers know about my blog availability - and if you know my blog well enough, please be so kind as to write a thoughtful review of what you like about it. Thanks.

My Internet Movie Database listing is at: http://imdb.com/name/nm3438598/

Ainan's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3305973/

Syahidah's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3463926/

Our editing, proofreading and copywriting company, Genghis Can, is at http://www.genghiscan.com/

This blog is copyright Valentine Cawley. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. Use only with permission. Thank you.)

Child genius competitions USA.

Now, my title, "Child genius competitions USA", is not of my own writing. In fact, it is a quote of what a searcher used as search terms to arrive on my blog. I found their search quite startling. Now, I don't know if there are any "child genius competitions" in the USA (apart from one), but I do know that someone in a town called Wall, in Northumberland in the UK certainly believes so.

Let us accept the idea that the reason someone in the UK is searching for American child genius competitions is that such competitions exist in the USA, somewhere. Indeed, I have heard of one competitive TV show involving child geniuses pitted against one another on their special topics, so I suppose that there must be, at least, one such competition. The reason, however, that I am moved to write about these reputed competitions, is that I view them as completely failing to understand what "genius" is actually about. True geniuses don't compete, they express themselves, in unique fashions. Being unique, they cannot truly be in competition, in the conventional view of competition, for they each have something special to offer. If a genius is a genius, then, in some fundamental way, they are unlike any other intellect that has ever lived or ever shall live. There is something fundamentally original about them, such that they are able to do something which no other individual is as well-suited to do. This concept of genius is easy to understand if one is to look at creative artists. It is self-evident that there will never be, can never be, in any way, remotely, another writer like Shakespeare. His way of expressing himself came into this world, but once, and never more shall his like be known. All the elements that went to form his genius - his genes, his culture, his time in history, the very people who shared life with him, are all gone, never more to be. So it is that the genius he embodied can never be again. So it is, with all creative artists of genius: they each embody unique minds, capable of unique acts of creation that can never be emulated by another human, no matter how smart they are, in anything but a pathetic shadow of a degree. It is easy to see that this is self-evidently true for artists - whether they be writers, or painters, poets or composers: they are each one off creations and one off creators. Yet, so it is, too, to a less obvious degree with scientists. Thinkers of genius are uniquely placed to solve particular kinds of problems or propose particular kinds of theories: their minds are open to a certain kind of scientific advance that all their disparate skills and dispositions unite and make them aptly suited for. Another equally well educated, equally intelligent person might completely overlook what the scientific genius sees so clearly. So, it is, too, that scientific geniuses are one offs, never more to be.

Now, given this uniqueness of genius, this unparalleled nature of it, it makes no sense at all, to set true geniuses up in competition with each other: for how is one to judge their merits? Their natures and achievements are unique, who is to say, therefore, which is the worthier? So, too, it is frankly silly to give them a task less than they are capable of achieving, just so as to see who is "better" at something than the other. Any task chosen will be more or less suited to each "genius". The outcome will therefore be a random reflection of the fit of the task, to the selection of geniuses to hand. It will not truly determine who is the "better" of the geniuses - it will simply determine whom, by chance, is best suited to the task in question - a task which may, in fact, have little bearing on those qualities that make them a genius in the first place.

So the idea of a competition between geniuses is quintessentially silly. Each is a genius and therefore each has as much importance as each other for, if they are true geniuses, then their contributions will be, in some way, unique to them and thus most unlikely to have arisen in another. Who is to say then, of a selection of unique beings, who is the more valuable? All of their contributions will have value, all will, perhaps, have been unachievable by anyone else...so should we not think of them, then, in some way, of equal importance, in the sense that each does what no other can?

Of course, my objection to the wisdom of a child genius competition is on the assumption that the children selected are genuinely geniuses - that is, children showing great creative gift in addition to mere intelligence. In some cases, such children may just be intelligent, without being particularly creative. In those cases, the label of "genius" is misapplied, though many other positive labels may apply such as "gifted" "intelligent" "precocious" and so on.

Child geniuses should not be entrained to compete. They should be urged to express whatever is unique about their points of view. They should embody their unique inner worlds, in outward form. That is what genius is for: it is not for competing, like some faux Olympics, for medals and winners and game show prizes. Genius is that which is irreplaceable and irreproducible, but sadly, not irrepressible. Genius can be distorted, misdirected and wasted. Setting geniuses up in competition with each other is likely to encourage a misapplication of talent, in a way which leads to unproductive ends. Genius is not about scoring points and winning prizes in fatuous competitions: it is about doing what no-one else can do, it is about timeless actions in a world that is too short-sighted to see their value. Genius is not about the "now" of winning a momentary competition, but about achieving something that is, in some way, eternal. It is about making the world forever different in a way, that, before it happened, was unforeseen by all but the genius. Such acts, words and deeds, have far more value than any Olympics like competition between minds. Genius is not about winning, in the moment, but creating forever. America, or parts of it, once knew that...but it seems to have been forgotten in the modern era, of winners, competitions, medals and accolades.

Geniuses do not need to be set up in competition against each other. What they need, however, is often not given to them: the time, the space and the resources, with which to create. If that were done for every genius, the world would be a much more interesting place. Perhaps there should be competition to give geniuses what they need to enable their creativity. There was a time, when such competition took place, among the great and the good. It gave the world the Renaissance. Perhaps, that should be the kind of competition America should be invested in, with regards to its young geniuses.

The result would be a whole new world...

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, 10, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, 6 and Tiarnan, 4, this month, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html

I also write of gifted education, child prodigy, child genius, adult genius, savant, megasavant, HELP University College, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, Malaysia, IQ, intelligence and creativity.

There is a review of my blog, on the respected The Kindle Report here: http://thekindlereport.blogspot.com/2010/09/boy-who-knew-too-much-child-prodigy.html

Please have a read, if you would like a critic's view of this blog. Thanks.

You can get my blog on your Kindle, for easy reading, wherever you are, by going to: http://www.amazon.com/Boy-Who-Knew-Too-Much/dp/B0042P5LEE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1284603792&sr=8-1

Please let all your fellow Kindlers know about my blog availability - and if you know my blog well enough, please be so kind as to write a thoughtful review of what you like about it. Thanks.

My Internet Movie Database listing is at: http://imdb.com/name/nm3438598/

Ainan's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3305973/

Syahidah's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3463926/

Our editing, proofreading and copywriting company, Genghis Can, is at http://www.genghiscan.com/

This blog is copyright Valentine Cawley. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. Use only with permission. Thank you.)

Does quality of writing matter, anymore?

There was a time, when the world appreciated quality in writing. I am not sure that that is so, anymore. In the modern world, the worse the writing, the larger the audience. To become rich as a writer, it is almost a truism, that you should be really quite bad at writing.

Let us look at the world's richest writers. Dan Brown, for instance...a most formulaic writer, given to adopting ideas wholesale from prior works and calling them his own. JK Rowling...hmm...a most formulaic writer, given to adopting ideas wholesale from prior works and calling them her own. You get the idea. There really isn't much need to continue. Today, the writers who sell best are not, necessarily, the writers who write best.

Think of a really interesting writer, one with a style of their own, ideas of their own, a unique spirit, unlike any other. Ask the question, then: how do they make their living? I look at the ingenious tale teller, Jorge Luis Borges - and what do I see, but that he was a librarian for most of his life. Thus, his short stories, jewels of the intellect, though they are, could not have been remunerative enough to support him, stably. I, look, too, at the recent career of Martin Amis (whose work I have never read, but of whom many others speak kindly enough) and see a Professor of Creative Writing at Manchester University. Again, it seems to me that if his books were selling well enough and consistently enough, he would not have resorted to securing an academic position (unless he has a particular wish to train another generation of writers, of course). I could go on, but there are endless examples of sophisticated writers, who do not seem to be able, or to have been able, to earn a decent living from their works.

At the other end of the scale, however, there are quite a few writers, of no originality, little talent, but much marketing prowesss, who become almost miraculously wealthy. Stephenie Meyer, for instance, is not a particularly good writer, in the sense of able to use words in apt and novel ways, embodying fresh ideas. There is nothing fresh about undead Vampires. Yet, she is a very wealthy woman.

It seems that what the people of the world, that is the masses, want, is more of the same, but slightly different, please. They don't want to have to think about something new. They don't want to have to pause to understand. They don't want to have to read carefully because each sentence is saying something that has never been said before. No. They want to be lulled by the familiar, the "tried and tested", the cliche.

So, in the modern world, getting rich as a writer, involves not being a writer. To become rich from the written word, one must throw out freshness, originality, style and substance and seek out imitation, repetition and convention. At least, that seems to be the tale told by the lives of those who have become rich from writing. Generally speaking, they invented nothing and retold everything, with just enough vestige of the individual to be able to give the work a new title and copyright it as their own.

However, a writer with thoughts all of their own and a vision that is alike no other, may find it hard to find much of an audience. The problem, quite simply, is that relatively few people, these days, seem to want to think, in any way that might challenge them. Yet, a writer who writes works that are original in any way - be they in style, content or theme - cannot do but challenge his or her readers - and so they shall find fewer such readers. We live, basically, in intellectually lazy times. People aspire to be amused, but they do not aspire to be amusing. They seek to be passive recipients of entertainment, but are not, in themselves, entertaining. They wish to imbibe the thoughts of another, without provoking any thoughts of their own.

In short, the modern world seems an unpromising one, for any intellectual, of any kind, to thrive. The more original their work - of whatever kind, not just of writing - and the more sophisticated it is, the less likely it is to be able to earn them a good living. At least, this seems to be the pattern, when one looks at who gets rich from "creating" and who can never give up their day jobs.

The same pattern is clear, too, in the world of blogging. My blog, for instance, has its regular readers. I have readers from all over the world. Yet, one thing cannot be denied: I have far fewer readers, than far less accomplished writers. In Singapore, for instance, there is a young lady called Xiaxue, who has around 50,000 readers per day for her blog (which seems an awful lot, considering that, at the time of this claim, Singapore only had 4.5 million people...with perhaps only 500,000 of them in her target age group, for readership...suggesting that perhaps one in ten possible readers, WERE readers). Now, what is striking about this is how little her blog offers in the way of any intellectual substance. It consists of gossip, tales of boyfriends, scantily clad photos, accounts of shopping trips, fashion and even, her own encounters with plastic surgery. It is unadulterated pap. Yet, it sells. It is the blogging world equivalent of the best selling authors I have mentioned above. I very much doubt whether there are many bloggers writing in an intellectual or thoughtful manner, who manage to secure 10% of their entire target market, as readers. Let me correct that: "many" should read "ANY".

Although, the more sophisticated a writer, the smaller will be the audience, in one's own time, there is a hidden consolation in this situation, I think, for the better writers: their footprint, in time, is likely to be greater than one might expect. By this, I mean, that their long-term readership, in the decades, centuries and even millenia ahead, will be far, far greater, than that of their more debased and populist rivals.

No-one reads the Ancient Greek equivalent of Stephanie Meyer, these days...but the leading thinkers of their day, Plato, Aristotle, Sophocles and Aristophanes, for instance...are still sought out, by some, and dwelt upon. So, too, will it be with our own more sophisticated thinkers, writers and creators: their works will linger on, long past the "never more to be read by date", of their presently more successful rivals. People like JK Rowling succeed in their own lifetimes...but I don't believe their reputations shall endure on the timescale of centuries and beyond. Their works propel them to riches and fame, during their lifetimes, but it is a kind of illusion, that gives them a present import, far greater than the one posterity shall accord them.

So, if you write and write well, or indeed, create in any medium at all, but your work is a little too sophisticated for the broadest audience - don't worry, for in the long term, your success may outshine that of any of your contemporaries, and your work might still be read, or enjoyed, a thousand years from today.

A final question for all readers, one which invites you to speak of your values and perspectives on what is important, in creative work: would you rather have great worldly success in your own lifetimes, for your creative work, but be forgotten a few decades after your passing - or would you rather modest worldly success in your own lifetime, but have your works, read and enjoyed thousands of years from today?

Answers, please, below. Thanks.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, 10, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, 6 and Tiarnan, 4, this month, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html

I also write of gifted education, child prodigy, child genius, adult genius, savant, megasavant, HELP University College, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, Malaysia, IQ, intelligence and creativity.

There is a review of my blog, on the respected The Kindle Report here: http://thekindlereport.blogspot.com/2010/09/boy-who-knew-too-much-child-prodigy.html

Please have a read, if you would like a critic's view of this blog. Thanks.

You can get my blog on your Kindle, for easy reading, wherever you are, by going to: http://www.amazon.com/Boy-Who-Knew-Too-Much/dp/B0042P5LEE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1284603792&sr=8-1

Please let all your fellow Kindlers know about my blog availability - and if you know my blog well enough, please be so kind as to write a thoughtful review of what you like about it. Thanks.

My Internet Movie Database listing is at: http://imdb.com/name/nm3438598/

Ainan's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3305973/

Syahidah's IMDB listing is at http://imdb.com/name/nm3463926/

Our editing, proofreading and copywriting company, Genghis Can, is at http://www.genghiscan.com/

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