Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 11

close to home

Last week I learned that some Global Read Aloud classes are doing service projects after reading Dragons in a Bag. After learning more about homelessness, students in OH learned that food banks need supplies to bake birthday cakes—so they raised funds for the pantries in their community! Right now Madagascar is experiencing drought in the southern part of the island; I made a donation to Doctors Without Borders and then wondered if students might want to do that same…I want to be careful because it seems most of the kids participating in the GRA are White and middle-class. Book #3 talks about the difference between serving someone and trying to swoop in to save them, but no kids have read The Witch’s Apprentice yet. And I realize that I need to say more about gentrification because it can lead to displacement of folks who were already paying reasonable rent. I think a lot of folks assume Jaxon is poor but he comes from a middle-class family; his mother’s a paralegal and his father was a sports journalist. Gentrification floods neighborhoods with tenants who have the means to pay a lot more for rent, and landlords sometimes try to force the former out in order to replace them with the latter. You can be working full-time in this country and still wind up on the street or living out of your car. So many veterans are homeless…it’s frustrating and heartbreaking. In my own neighborhood there’s a woman living at a bus shelter. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that. Kids sometimes ask me about Ambrose and why I chose to make him invisible. Adults don’t need to ask; they know that most of us have learned to walk past the homeless and avert our gaze to avoid taking responsibility for a major injustice in our society. Every person has the right to be housed, yet here in Chicago there are tents in many of the parks that line the lake. When I visited Seattle last year, there were streets lined with RVs because many people can no longer afford to buy or rent since Amazon came to town. As a nation, we haven’t built enough affordable housing. I’m trying to figure out the best way to help the woman living at the bus shelter. Every time my radiators start clanging, I think of her outside, buried under blankets. I’m painting and perfecting my apartment, proudly posting updates on social media, and she’s just a few blocks away with only two sheets of plexiglass to block the wind. I took some hand warmers along with a hot meal today. On Thanksgiving someone else pulled up and dropped off food as I was leaving; I’m guessing that was a church group or nonprofit so donating to those organizations is a good option. She’s clearly on folks’ radar but I’m not sure that’s very reassuring. She’s not invisible, but she’s still living outdoors. How many bus drivers pull up to that shelter day and night, see her, and then move on? The shelter is across the street from the AKA headquarters so I reached out to them today. They have a housing fund so maybe their sorors will have suggestions on the best way to help. I have a lot to be thankful for as we head into the holidays but it’s not enough to just count one’s blessings. Last weekend I was interviewed for a TV report on youth activism. Kids are already leading the way when it comes to climate change and gun violence, and children bravely faced police dogs and fire hoses during the civil rights movement of the ’50s and ’60s. I’m not going to tell my young readers what to do, but I’m definitely going to make them aware of some problems that need solving…

dust

Everything in the apartment is covered in a thin layer of dust. My painter goes to great lengths to seal off the room he’s working in but despite his best efforts, plaster dust travels past sheets of plastic to settle everywhere. Wipe once, and there will be streaks. Same with mopping. I woke up with a migraine this morning so I’m just puttering around the apartment, wiping at the dust with a wet cloth, waiting, going back to wipe the surface again. I have three appointments today so hope to be fully operational by noon. There’s an eclipse coming this week and my horoscope suggests I “go dark” in order to “recharge, refuel, regenerate.” I’m definitely ready to hibernate but it’s hard when my home is still so disordered. I thought the dining room was done and planned to rearrange the furniture but now white spots are showing through the black paint…I think the painter has applied three coats already but maybe a fourth will be required. The office is still off limits so that leaves the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. Just heated up some soup, feel ready for a nap, and will hopefully be more alert for my phone conference and zoom. The Global Read Aloud international raffle produced a winner in Kenya! Looking forward to meeting those young readers soon. I heard from a school in Alaska last week and arranged to meet them next month; I saw on Twitter today that classes are sending postcards to one another and some plan to read the sequel together as well. I love that these GRA connections are being extended…I imagine many children have felt quite isolated during the pandemic and are eager to connect—with and without screens. Plans for the January launch of The Witch’s Apprentice are underway and I’m meeting this week with my publicist in Toronto. I need to make the most of the next few weeks because I think the new year is going to be busy…hopefully by then my apartment will be dust-free!

under the sea

I went to the Shedd Aquarium for my birthday. A few days earlier I was working at my desk; relative to the rest of the apartment, it’s quite tidy. Next to the lamp and vase is a piece from my grandfather’s desk set. I remember being fascinated by it as a child. I think it was a gift from his eldest son Gerald who lived in British Columbia. If I recall correctly, there was a letter holder (which I now have), a letter opener (which my mother has), and a pen stand that doubled as a paper weight. All are like tidal pool snow globes—there was even a tiny crab or sea horse that floated underneath the glass. My letter holder mostly has mother of pearl shell fragments and it was clearly dropped at some point and fixed with what looks like wood glue…I have vivid memories of so many items from my childhood (my grandparents’ manse in particular), and I’m adding some of those remembered colors to my apartment. The yellow chaise arrived on Friday; it matches the Tahitian landscape painting by Gauguin that used to hang in our home. I got teal velvet chairs for the dining room table, matching my grandmother’s tablecloth and the felt that lined her silver chest…what brings us comfort is a curious thing. We can’t recreate the exact feeling we had in certain spaces in the past but just a hint of the remembered moment or place seems to suffice. There’s a tiny sea horse in the corner of this underwater tableau from the aquarium. I couldn’t help wondering if it was content. Zoos are always a mixed bag; it’s thrilling to see these creatures up close but then you consider how limited their life is…sea otters shouldn’t be kept in a tank. Dolphins shouldn’t be doing tricks to entertain humans. If you’re born in captivity, do you even know what it means to be free? I finished the novel on Friday and turned it in right on time. Now I’m navigating my post-project slump…yesterday I just wanted to rest but now I’ve got to come up with a plan. I think November will involve a lot of museums, maybe a matinee for the first time in over a year…the sponge that is my brain has been wrung dry and so I’ve got to soak it with art and nature…the leaves are finally starting to turn. I bought ingredients to make a pot of vegan chili and my dear friend Satia just gave me a book about Black food…I’ve decided to write a poem a day for the month of November and I want to finish The Boy in the Lake, maybe Ola’s Dream, too. For now, I’m heading out to have tea with friends at a swanky hotel. Then I’ll be handing out books to kids in my condo complex. I hate Halloween but I do love seeing the little ones all dressed up…

grace

It’s not yet noon but I’ve clocked 11K steps…many of them earned by going up and down the back stairs as I clear out the apartment. Some things go in storage in the basement, some things get recycled, some things can’t be bagged and go straight into the dumpster. I didn’t sleep well on Thursday night but had a full day on Friday and so went to bed early to “catch up.” I always said I wouldn’t be that woman (my mother) who obsessed over calories and the number on the scale. I do count other things, though—like my steps, and think it’s important to know when I’ve been sitting in front of the computer all day and ought to take a walk. Yesterday I hopped on the treadmill while watching the news and didn’t meet my daily step goal but still stretched my legs. I worked in my office all day; it isn’t yet painted but has a functional layout and lots of plants and sunshine. The painter was working in the living room and that’s where my router is so wifi in that back office is spotty. Which helps, really—I definitely write more on the days when I’m forced to work offline. That will be part of my memory of this novel: having contractors in and out of the apartment, having stuff everywhere, having to find corners of order where I can focus and write. This morning I woke up early, as always, and dreaded all the things I knew needed to be done around the apartment. The painter’s doing other jobs next week so things are in limbo. Like the living room, the kitchen is mostly done so today I’m moving everything back in even though it looks so much better when the room is empty. I wanted a blank slate in that space and now I’ve got it, though the missing baseboards look ghastly. This morning I filled the gaps with steel wool to deter any critters and then taped up strips of white paper to serve as temporary baseboards. I know that says something about me…that I can’t bear to have anything mar the pristine whiteness of the kitchen. A friend from Toronto left a comment on IG noting that I seemed to handle upheaval with grace. I wish! I’ve been alternately grumpy and blue and too busy to fix a lot of small things. Why bother when the big glaring issues haven’t been fixed? But doing things makes me feel better so I got busy this morning. Mopped and vacuumed before heading out for a walk instead of hitting the farmers market. But then I took a new route and wound up at the market anyway! Bought loads of bread and soup and vegan sweet treats. My tiny fridge is now packed—the freezer, too. I’m grateful for this abundance—the full fridge, my full heart, even the sense of purpose that comes from this never-ending To Do list. I walked home with a full bag and the city was so quiet…the leaves still haven’t started to turn but I spotted one tree in Woodlawn that stood out because it wasn’t entirely green. I passed the statue at the end of the Midway Plaisance that I wrote into The Witch’s Apprentice. When I visited it last fall, a class of tiny kids was admiring the student memorial to Breonna Taylor. All the artwork is gone now but I preserved some of the kids’ messages in my novel and the photo of Breonna is still visible, even from a distance. No one knows the guy the statue is meant to honor (Thomas Garrigue Masaryk), but for now, at least, they recognize Breonna’s face and can #SayHerName. Been thinking lately of the opening lines of “Tintern Abbey” by Wordsworth: “Five years have passed, five summers, with the length/of five long winters…” How do we measure our lives? Daily steps and calories are easy to track but how do we know we’re making progress as people? I read an article last week that urged people not to over-identify with their job. Try meeting someone new without leading with what you do for a living. It’s hard! I identify as a writer, an educator, a Black feminist. What else should I say about myself—what else IS there to say? Some kind (or deluded) soul nominated me for the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, which I always thought of as a lifetime achievement type of prize. I haven’t spent my whole life writing for kids but it has been twenty years…and I’m ready to move on. But for now I’m focused on turning in The Enchanted Bridge before my birthday on Tuesday. On Friday I talked to a set of film producers about Dragons in a Bag and I’m talking to an animation director on Monday; I’m letting everyone know how disastrous the first film deal was and don’t intend to repeat that experience. Next month (which is just one week from now!) I will decide whether I want to find a structural engineer to help me plan the kitchen renovation. Right now, I’m satisfied with having a clean, functional space that isn’t pink! I can hear the sparrows chattering as they peck at the suet on the back porch and hopefully I’ll find a way to put a stool right in front of that window—another sunny place to daydream. Once this novel is done, I can spend more time outside of the apartment. Being here all day every day while contractors work can make me more anxious than I usually am. My birthday is Tuesday and I think I’m going to visit the Shedd Aquarium. I prefer a low-key celebration so will spend the day on my own and then meet up with friends later in the week. Edi drove out from IN on Thursday and it was SO nice to break bread with her again! She graciously looked past the chaos and only had kind things to say about my messy apartment. Because that’s what friends do—they look past your flaws and focus on the best parts of you. I’m going to try to do the same…with my home and myself.

turn

This morning I woke up wishing the heat was on in our building. I broke out the space heater last night and had a blanket draped over my legs as I worked on my laptop. Outside, the leaves stubbornly remain green here in Chicago. Inside, my painter has made great progress in the kitchen; the cracks in the plaster have been filled but there’s still a fair bit of pink to be seen and the window seems to be sealed shut. With caulk. I’m at 33K words with this novel and thought I’d wrap up tomorrow at 35K but clearly that’s not going to happen when I’ve still got three chapters to finish. This fall the universe is definitely trying to teach me patience…and I really am trying to sit with the discomfort caused by my inability to make things happen on MY schedule. I want flame-colored leaves and clanging radiators and complete chapters that seamlessly flow into one another. But that’s not what I’ve got. This week the painter returns with an assistant so by Friday, the apartment should look very different. But if it doesn’t, I’ll have to just live this way for a little while longer. I ordered some furniture for the dining room but right now there’s nowhere to put it because that room holds everything emptied out of the kitchen, and everything I need to take to the basement storage locker, and all the boxes I’m afraid to throw out in case my new ceiling fans or light fixtures suddenly stop working. “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” According to my father’s unfinished memoir, he learned that proverb from his paternal grandmother. Well, Bertha would be mortified if she saw my apartment right now. I’m mortified but try to remind myself that it’s temporary. And not being done doesn’t mean progress isn’t being made. Writing a thousand words a day is still an accomplishment and the world won’t end because I missed my deadline by three or four days. Two weeks from now, the view from my window will look differently. I will be done with this novel and fussing over some new story. Then the leaves will fall, the trees will be bare, and winter will be here…

play time

Last night I spent three hours formatting my play so I could submit it to a competition here in Chicago. Might be a long shot, but I figured it was worthwhile since I now have a completed application that I can tweak for other workshop opportunities. Writing fiction is very satisfying for me but when it comes to theater, your words don’t really live until actors embody them on the stage. So this program offers playwrights of color the chance to have a director prepare a professional cast to read the play for the public. There’s another program for plays that haven’t yet been written and I already know I’m going to apply for that, too. Unless, by some miracle, I manage to finish that 2008 play before the competition opens in June 2022. I’m definitely ready to try my hand at something new, though I’m not a total amateur. I wrote nearly twenty plays between 2004 and 2008; some were staged but most were not. Writing plays for those years made the dialogue in my subsequent novels much stronger, I think. Has writing for children for a decade changed how I think about the theater? Definitely. Just as being a professor for a decade impacted the way I write for young readers. I’m revisiting my past lives lately…I think I’ve let go of my professor life, though I can’t seem to part with certain books because my notes are in the margins and what if I *do* teach that novel again? And I’m still easily seduced by gothic architecture and exploring the University of Chicago campus last week did make me feel a bit wistful. I used to get the blues in September but I think I was too busy with the move to slip into a funk this year. Now the leaves are starting to turn, the temperatures are dropping at night, and I just feel dreamy…too aware of too many possibilities in the world around me. The Boy in the Lake is blooming into a much longer, more complicated narrative. I haven’t finished The Enchanted Bridge but think I can finish a rough draft this weekend. I hoped to finish Ola’s Dream this fall…maybe even revisit central PA to do a bit more research. But mostly I want to enjoy these months without endless Zooms and speaking gigs. I fumbled my way through a Global Read Aloud Twitter chat this morning and was relieved not to have to set up my camera in order to participate; a class joined from Pickering, Ontario which is where I grew up! I went back to Evanston on Wednesday; I’m hoping to continue my weekly walks with Cozbi. Afterwards I stopped at Dollop for lunch as I always used to do when I lived up there. Something old, something new…that’s what we carry into a new life, right? The electrician returns on Monday and I should get two quotes from painters as well. I’ve had a few no-show contractors lately but I’m not letting that get me down. The IKEA guy is on his way over right now to assess and measure my kitchen. Mail was actually IN my mailbox today instead of on the floor of the vestibule. My desk was delivered as I got home from my walk; the box is practically demolished but hopefully the desk itself isn’t damaged. Will bring it up piece by piece and see if I can get it assembled today. Bit by bit, I’m piecing this new life together…

sparks

Today is Day One of the 2021 Global Read Aloud! It’s exciting to know that kids all around the world are about to meet my three dragons. I’m taking a much-needed break from school visits this fall but look forward to joining the #DragonPals21 Twitter chat on Friday morning and having my November conversation with GRA founder Pernille Ripp. Imagine—one educator had an idea to connect students around the globe and eleven years later, Dragons in a Bag is one of the titles bringing kid readers together. I try to read at least half an hour a day and am looking forward to curling up with one of the books I just checked out with my new Chicago Public Library card. I’ve been in my new home for one week and haven’t yet established a routine. Today I got up and moved things around so the electrician would have access to all the two-prong outlets that need replacing. Put the kettle on to make a cup of tea and two fuses blew, leaving the fridge and microwave with no power. The electrician got everything fixed when he arrived a couple hours later, but I came home from the library just now and the sleek new ceiling fan he installed today wouldn’t turn on. The manual says to check the fuse box but I don’t feel like heading into the basement right now. The wifi was a little spotty today while they were working but that actually helped me to focus on The Enchanted Bridge. I’m trying to write a thousand words a day to meet my 10/15 deadline and today I wrote nearly two thousand words (which is why I’m treating myself to a little HGTV tonight). I finished watching A Discovery of Witches over the weekend and felt relieved that my kid audience had no expectation of romance in my books. I am SO not a romantic and found myself zoning out whenever the lead witch was on screen, professing her eternal love for her vampire husband. Ugh. Sometimes you hear a story and tune out because you’ve heard it so many times that you know how it’s going to end. But then the storyteller introduces someone new—Satu, the weaver-witch from Finland—who’s just as powerful but isn’t blond and has no love interest and she’s SO much more interesting. And, of course, she got next to no screen time. I started a new novella the other day: The Boy in the Lake. What if Emmett Till lived in Lake Michigan? What if, what if, what if…that’s how all good stories begin…of course my head would fill with new story ideas just when I need to finish this dragon book. But once that spark is lit, there’s not much you can do…

(the) rest

I’m taking it easy this morning after too many days obsessing over my endless To Do list. Yesterday I emptied the Evanston apartment and Cozbi helped me bring the last bags and boxes of “stuff” into the city—all the files I didn’t have energy to sift through, all the odd-shaped items I couldn’t figure out how to pack on Sunday. My arms and legs ache from hauling bits of my life up and down three flights of stairs for the past week, but I have no regrets about this top-floor unit. The pink is wearing on me; even with my belongings arranged to resemble livable rooms, the color just seems to clash with everything. But I have plants soaking up the sunlight and I put some suet out on the back deck after hearing birds chattering this morning. The crane lifting materials up to the roof of the adjacent block has stopped and it’s quiet. A little overcast. Yesterday I had time for a quick lunch before the cable and internet guys showed up; they took less than thirty minutes to get my service up and running and so yesterday I treated myself to a few hours of HGTV and this morning I’m watching my favorite British crime dramas. And just signed up for yet another streaming service (Sundance Now) so I can watch A Discovery of Witches. I’m going to try to relax for the rest of the day, but it’s hard. Every room I walk into needs something fixed or cleaned or rearranged. I’m about to measure the kitchen so I can see what Ikea’s designers recommend. I’m doing an in-person consultation with another design studio early Saturday morning. I’ve ordered two ceiling fans and five light fixtures from Lowe’s because the electrician is coming Monday and he thinks he can get everything rewired and installed in one day. I got a surprise royalty payment this week and will use that to at least start the kitchen. It’s appalling and even though I’m not much of a cook, I can’t imagine living with that mess for weeks and weeks. The rest of the rooms can’t be painted until they’ve been plastered and the layers of old, flaking paint have been stripped off the baseboards and door frames. So things will be pink for a while longer. But the window repair person comes tomorrow and so far I’ve had pretty good luck with contractors. The locksmith (yelp!), cleaner (Craigslist), and junk removers (yelp!) were great, the electrician actually lowered his quote and is bringing another contractor with him on Monday so I can get a second quote on plastering these walls. The contractor my friend recommended could do everything but I think it makes sense to have a few people doing different jobs all at once. If installing a new kitchen isn’t too expensive, then I’ll make it my priority and the bathrooms can wait till the end of the year. So many upsetting things happened this past week—closing was a nightmare and so was moving day—but they’re not worth writing about. Right now I just feel blessed to have this home and will try to spend this day indoors, on the couch, in front of the TV, with only occasional attention paid to my To Do list. There’s time for everything—work and rest, fruit and cake, daydreaming and scheming. Tomorrow the new month begins and I will get back to work on the novel. Till then, it’s TV time for TV!

take comfort

This past week was pretty stressful and I ate my way through the drama. I also kept up my daily exercise routine so didn’t do too much damage but I know now that buying property isn’t for the faint of heart. I’m so grateful for my “team”! Seeing bad behavior from another attorney and agent makes me appreciate the professionalism of the folks who represent me. It took a real group effort to get us over the finish line, but I found out yesterday that we finally got the title and can proceed to closing next week. Not on Monday as was scheduled, but on Thursday. That messes up my plan to hire cleaners, an electrician, and painter to fix up the place before I move in, but it’s okay. Everything will get done in time. I’m more than half packed here in Evanston and so don’t have to rush or stress when the time comes. And I’m purging again…that’s got to be the only upside to moving three times in three years. Two bags of clothes to the thrift store, two bags of books to the donation bin outside the public library. I ordered a new bed this morning, which means I’ll be leaving my four-poster bed behind. Trying to find a local church or nonprofit that picks up furniture donations but it’s hard; COVID makes folks unwilling to come upstairs and I can’t get things down to the street on my own. But I’ll figure it out! I’ve got paint colors picked out. Yesterday I was ready to walk away from the sale unless our terms were met but it would have hurt to lose this condo. I can see myself in that old building, or reading beneath the mature trees in the private garden, or running by the lake, which is nearby. On Thursday Cozbi and I skipped our usual two-hour walk in favor of breakfast at her place (which looks like a Parisian salon!); she effortlessly whipped up a delicious meal that included buttermilk biscuits and when I blabbed on and on and lost track of the time, she drove me back home in time for my noon Zoom—but not before handing me ALL of the remaining biscuits. I’ve been trying to use up everything in the fridge and now I can say the jar of lemon curd is GONE. My meeting was with my theater team and everyone had great suggestions on ways to move our play forward. I’ve tried unsuccessfully to connect with theater folks in Chicago but decided to try the university one more time—and got an instant reply from a Black woman who isn’t even working there anymore; she suggested two other sisters and within minutes, one reached out to invite me to apply to her theater’s upcoming play competition. After so much silence it was heartening to get such an enthusiastic welcome. They’re building a performance space just south of Hyde Park so I could potentially walk to work…getting ahead of myself but excited about the possibilities. I turned in the final round of edits for The Witch’s Apprentice yesterday and found a way to donate copies of Milo’s Museum to kids in York, PA. The school board there has banned a resource list designed to help educators address race and equity in the classroom. I haven’t missed social media much but I was glad my friend Jung tagged me because I otherwise wouldn’t even have known what was going on. If you want to see the list, you can find it here. And a local nonprofit is accepting donations if you want to buy some books on the list and send them to York: Haybrook Little Free Library, 131 Haybrook Drive, York, PA 17406. Students are also fighting the ban and have created a petition, which you can sign here.

I haven’t met my daily word quota for The Enchanted Bridge this week so will stay home this weekend and try to write. If I start October with 30K words written, I’ll be able to finish by the time my deadline rolls around on the 15th. Then I can finish my Amish farm novel and THEN I can turn my attention back to writing plays. The Global Read Aloud starts next month; it’s reassuring to know that educators around the world are committed to helping their students connect with other young readers through inclusive kid lit. Banning books hurts kids but it also just doesn’t work…we live in a global society. It’s our job to prepare kids to become global citizens who can recognize and respect different points of view. Unless you actually want your kids to be isolated and ignorant, which seems to be the goal of this school board…so much work to do.

literary legacy

Every reader can name a book that made a lasting impression on their young mind, and every student can name an educator who made learning a special experience. Friday was a terrible day; conflict popped up again and again, which left me feeling combative and unable to sleep. When I finally got up the next day, I learned that my favorite teacher from high school had passed away. These days, grief isn’t automatic. Sometimes death is an end to suffering and so it’s welcome, and I don’t want anyone I love to suffer any longer than necessary. I hadn’t seen Nancy in some time but I talk and write about her whenever someone asks how I became a writer…how did I find the confidence? when did I decide that was my calling? who gave me permission to live that dream? Nancy Vichert did. I think her English class in the 9th grade was the first time I was ever required to keep a journal; it was the first time I wrote regularly and openly about my complicated home life, and it meant a lot to see her tiny black checkmarks in the margin. Sometimes she would add a brief comment or question, and at least once she kept me after class to make sure I was okay. I wasn’t used to that kind of concern, coming from a family with a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, and it meant a lot. My parents tended to withhold praise so I turned to teachers when I needed validation—and they were always there to support and encourage me. Educators do a lot more than teach; they’re social workers and therapists and surrogate parents. I’ve been fortunate to have had so many “other mothers” in my life. One father was enough but I definitely look to older women for advice and care. Nancy told me I had talent; she made me feel like my voice, my experiences, and my ideas mattered. I wrote in class with the goal of impressing Nancy because her opinion meant a lot to me. She critiqued my work to make it stronger, never to shame me. I was lucky to have Nancy for two of my five years in high school, and I felt blessed to continue our relationship long after graduation. We both loved dessert and enjoyed sharing a meal while looking out over Frenchman’s Bay in Pickering. Nancy shared a brief memoir she wrote about her time in Africa and I hope to one day complete the play it inspired. What a gift she was—to me, her family, friends, and all her other students. I hope I can make as lasting an impression on the young people in my orbit…