Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 14

rest

I stopped napping over a year ago but my afternoon naps are making a comeback in 2021. My weeks feel so full and that’s partly my fault—I’m still saying “yes” to too many requests—but it’s also Black History Month, and I thought I’d have time to teach and give keynotes and visit schools virtually because my deadlines were LAST month. I met all three but, of course, that doesn’t mean I’m done; my editors circle back needing more poems, more revisions, more more. By the time I reach 3pm, I’m out of steam. If I curl up with a book to read for an hour, I invariably fall asleep after twenty minutes. I’m keeping up with my daily steps and the treadmill and my vitamins, yet I still feel bone tired some days. But this week, after all my Zooms, I took a moment to celebrate myself with High Tea at Home prepared by a local French cafe, Patisserie Coralie. I got a box for myself and a box for my nearby friend and we toasted each other over FaceTime. Not the same as a leisurely three-hour tea off a three-tier tray in a swanky hotel, but it was still nice. I’m very grateful for my friends! This week I’ve felt myself withdrawing, getting cranky each time I’m asked to do some small thing. I did my first IG Live event on Wednesday for World Read Aloud Day. I was nervous and wasn’t sure I could read a picture book using my phone but Gayatri (Desi Book Aunty) made everything easy and was so calm and affirming during our chat…when it was over, I immediately turned my phone’s camera back on and filmed another read aloud for a bookstore in CA. I’d been fussing about that but doing the first run with Gayatri made me feel more confident about doing the second book. Scratched that off my To Do list and then sat down for another online meeting with a pre-service teacher in TN. She asked such excellent questions about literacy and community-based publishing that I felt truly hopeful about the next generation of readers and writers. Yesterday I led a poetry workshop for middle grade students in Brooklyn participating in the Black Lives Matter at School Week, and this morning I did story time for the Hospital for Sick Kids in Toronto. I started this week by surprising a class of 3rd graders in Toronto who read and loved DRAGONS IN A BAG. Tomorrow I’m looking forward to a conversation about Black joy, which is part of the Capricorn SFF conference here in Chicago; everything is virtual so feel free to register and join us. I have nothing scheduled for Sunday and I’m not booking anything more for April or May. Folks keep asking what I’m working on and I *do* have several projects that are patiently waiting for my attention. But those stories will have to wait a while long because right now–it’s nap time! Enjoy your weekend.

dizzy

It’s still snowing here in Evanston. I went out earlier today to deliver a birthday gift to Cozbi. She’s still reeling from winning *four* awards yesterday for her two beautiful books EXQUISITE and ME & MAMA! Award days can be difficult and I usually skip the ceremony and avoid social media for a while. Often the same few people win the same few awards, year after year, but when someone so deserving finally has their work recognized—you can’t help but celebrate with and for them. Cozbi is truly one of the most generous people I know (on top of being a phenomenal artist) so it was thrilling to hear her name called again and again. I found out Sunday night that Noa Denmon won the Caldecott Honor Award for her incredible illustrations in A PLACE INSIDE OF ME and couldn’t stop laughing and grinning…I was proud of her but I also felt vindicated. In part because I predicted she would win that exact award back in April, and partly because it felt like a big middle finger to the major review outlets that chose to ignore our book. A friend’s book got SIX starred reviews but he was entirely shut out of the Youth Media Awards; our book got just two reviews and zero stars, but Noa won the Caldecott. So now we have a lovely silver sticker for the cover and we’ll be printing and selling a lot more books. I spent half of yesterday trying to stay on top of my Twitter account; that’s how I found out that was a nominee for the YALSA Nonfiction Award. On Facebook a librarian friend told me that my poetry book was also on the Rise list, which features feminist books for readers age 0-18. This morning a poet friend messaged me to ask if my publisher had submitted SAY HER NAME to a PA poetry prize…they hadn’t and it looks like we’ve missed the deadline. Sigh. Awards are exciting and can be fun but most books don’t get shiny stickers and even if we blow through this third printing of 40K books, my dragon books will still outsell A PLACE INSIDE OF ME and they haven’t won any awards. Does that mean they’re no good? Of course not. Do kids like the books that win the most awards? Not always. And to even be considered for an award, you have to be able to get published yet the industry continues to exclude most BIPOC kid lit creators. I’m doing a dozen virtual events in the coming weeks and THAT is what really matters—connecting with kids and families and schools. I’m getting one or two requests every day so will have to start turning folks away but a student this morning asked if I had met my goal as a writer, and I have. I write for a living, I spend (part of) my days dreaming, and I’m telling the stories I want to tell. No awards for me this year but I’m happy for my friends, grateful for my own blessings, and ready to keep on fighting for equity in this industry.

herself

On Saturday morning I watched Herself and when it ended, I did an online search for “how to move to Scotland.” The film is set in Ireland, but it motivated me to work on my five-year plan. Over the holidays I scribbled a few statements down, all starting with “What if…?” But yesterday I made actual statements: “By 2026, I will have a home abroad.” I don’t have many goals, just half a dozen right now, but having clear goals makes it easier to complete specific actions that will set me on the right path. Over the weekend I heard from USCIS; since I applied early in 2020, I won’t have to take the new civics test (phew). I should be getting my interview appointment letter in the mail, so it seems that moving to IL definitely sped things up. My ultimate goal is to have a home in more than one country. I’ve felt that way for some time now, but I’m sure more people are looking abroad after the failed coup that took place last week. Watching Herself was difficult at times because the main character is in an abusive relationship. Her eldest daughter runs for help when Sandra’s husband tries to kill her, but the youngest daughter Molly witnesses the assault. The rest of the film follows Sandra as she searches for a secure home for herself and her girls, and everything hinges on random acts of kindness. It’s a really powerful film and I don’t want to give anything away, but the ending summed up how I often feel about the US. At one point, Sandra’s daughter hands her a photograph taken during happier days and Sandra bursts into tears because she misses the man she fell in love with but knows she can’t go back to him. But was he EVER a better man? Wasn’t he always the kind of person who needed to control and terrorize others? His mother sort of confirms that in the end, but by that point it’s too late. I feel like that kind of psychological conflict mirrors the experience of African Americans. We love this country and it claims to love us but there’s little evidence of that…just cycles of brutality and broken promises. Yet we keep hoping things will get better. We WORK to make things better. Georgia voters—organized mainly by Black women—turned the state blue. And within hours, the Capitol was besieged by White nationalists. One step forward, two steps back…

I’m focusing on moving forward. During my walk with a friend today I thought of something another friend once said: “It’s time to BUILD. Not just do, build.” It’s so easy to get caught up with all the things that need to get done. I have no Zooms this week but my days seem to slip away so quickly as I scratch things off my To Do list. I met one deadline yesterday but missed another last week so now will return to that project before starting on Book #3, which is due on the 25th. I could do this indefinitely, I suppose. Write, submit, revise. Write something new, submit, revise. The paperback edition of THE DRAGON THIEF goes on sale today, and I’m happy because it’s much more affordable. I’m supposed to be doing a bunch of bookstore events to promote the paperback, but I haven’t heard from my publicist and I’m not going to press her. I’m going to use this week to think about the foundation I’ve laid so far and what I need to do next to build another life. I hope I’ll always be able to write for a living but if I didn’t have to hustle so hard, what would I do with that time and energy? I signed up for a friend’s vision board workshop this weekend so that will hopefully help me to picture my 2026 life. I’m considering an online Spanish class that starts next weekend—not helpful if I do wind up living part-time in Scotland, but another language might open other doors. That’s the point of life, right? And when certain doors don’t open, you take the tools you’ve gathered over the years and build your own home/school/press/theater…

clearing my plate

2020 is on its way out and I’m trying to clear my plate. I had hoped to publish this picture book back in February but the illustrator wasn’t done and then the pandemic changed everything…then I moved to IL and now I’m waiting on the final proof so I can finally hit “publish.” It’s an imperfect book—I gave up on my original vision a long time ago and now it just needs to land in the hands of kids in Central PA. I found myself thinking about my own childhood and introduction to Black history; when I was six or seven, my father led a summer camp to teach kids about our African heritage. I don’t remember learning anything about Black Canadian history, but we met at a school in downtown Toronto and made papier-mâché African masks and we watched Roots on VHS. I tried to leave the room before Levar Burton was whipped but my father dragged me back in. There was a playground nearby that had orange tube slides…the cover of this new book makes me think about the 1970s and the colors of my childhood. Gracie’s art is far more sophisticated than anything I could produce as a child, but it still reminds me of that summer camp and our attempts to connect with something new and important but also remote. That’s how 2021 feels right now—new, important, but remote. I attempted a five-year plan and once again fell short…the one-year plan was a bit better but compared to previous years, it looks a bit thin. It’s hard to plan when we don’t know what the future holds. The vaccine is here but won’t be widely available for several more months. My plan for 2020 started with a long list of work-related travel—not this year, and hopefully never again. Maybe we’ll be able to fly safely by September, maybe not. I don’t miss my hectic travel schedule and intend to earn a living from royalties and advances going forward. That means I have to finish projects—I’ve got 3 books due in January—and then I need to pay attention to the partial manuscripts that have already garnered interest from editors. Then what? It was interesting to watch Soul over the weekend. A Black jazz pianist finally gets his big break but dies before he can take the stage; looking back at his life, he realizes it was quite empty and finally performing on stage as part of a famous quartet doesn’t leave him feeling fulfilled. I listened to a podcast yesterday about how humans synthesize experiences in order to keep moving on—the things we think will destroy us, actually don’t. But the things we expect to make us happy might not be as satisfying as expected. Either way, we fold good and bad things into our lives until they lose significance over time. If that’s true, what *really* matters? The expert on the podcast felt that renewal was key—you never fully arrive at a place of professional or personal satisfaction, but we all have the capacity to keep searching. Sounds exhausting! But it’s also a relief because it means you don’t have to have everything figured out by the time you reach ____. Your whole life can be devoted to setting goals and searching for purpose, and experiencing failure or disappointment won’t change that. You just pick yourself up and keep trying different approaches, experiences, paths. Works for me! I’m thinking more about my next professional shift. Professor to author to…?

I hope you found some peace and joy over the holidays…here’s to a MUCH better 2021!

the truth behind the story

When The Star agreed to publish my essay on Black fantasy fiction in 2019, I was thrilled. After quitting my job and struggling for several years to earn a living as a writer, I was finally making it work. With a few small awards under my belt, a couple of modest book deals, and a whole lot of paid school visits, I had managed to match my comfortable professor’s salary. And after a decade of invisibility, I was also gaining recognition as a children’s author in Canada; my middle grade novel Dragons in a Bag was nominated for the Forest of Reading’s Silver Birch Express Award, and my Penguin Random House publicist booked me on Canadian television shows and CBC Radio programs.

In that first essay, I shared the challenges I faced as a child in Toronto; no Black role models and a school curriculum that erased Black contributions to Canadian history and culture left me with a thoroughly colonized imagination. I also argued—not for the first time—for the collection of data so we could measure diversity in Canadian children’s literature:

The Cooperative Children’s Book Center at the University of Wisconsin-Madison annually tracks race in over three thousand books for young readers; in 2017, only 3 per cent of the books submitted by publishers were created by African Americans. As far as I know, Canadian kid lit scholars don’t track race in publishing — but they should.

I was impressed when, shortly after that essay was published, The Star‘s Books Editor Deborah Dundas took the initiative and began gathering diversity data from Canadian publishers. In 2011, I had attempted my own survey to determine how many Black Canadian authors were creating children’s literature. The results were abysmal: from 2000-2010, an average of 3 Black authors per year had a book for children published in Canada. So when Deborah shared with me the results of her first survey last year, I was stunned—and skeptical. She reached out again to ask if I wanted to comment on the second survey, but I declined. I suspected most of the 51 books with a Black main character were either authored by Whites or by someone like me—a Black author whose book was acquired and published in the US but distributed north of the border by a transnational publisher (in my case, Penguin Random House). My publisher has assured me that my two dragon novels were never submitted to The Star for their survey, but I suspect that my inclusion in other Canadian lists is as much related to the sudden desire to appear inclusive as it is related to the quality of my books. It’s no doubt easier to reach across the border for a Black expat than it is to take a stand against anti-Blackness in Canadian publishing.

I am Canadian; no matter where I live, that fact won’t change and I think it’s fair to call me a Canadian author even if I’ve lived in the US for most of my life at this point. But my forty titles for young readers really aren’t Canadian books. Even at this stage in my career, I face continued rejection from Canadian editors. I had a middle grade novel published in 2019, The Dragon Thief, but including my titles in a survey like this misrepresents what the Canadian publishing industry is actually doing when it comes to equity (ensuring everyone has an equal opportunity to tell their story, their way).

The Star ‘s survey purports to “tell the story” about diversity in Canadian children’s literature. It asks publishers to self-report their titles but without a more granular approach, the survey presents an incomplete and potentially distorted image of diversity and inclusion in Canadian kid lit. In 2019, out of a total of 419 books, 51 had a Black main character; yet when I contacted colleagues in the field (authors, booksellers, scholars) they could only name two Black Canadian authors with a children’s book published in Canada in 2019: Nadia Hohn’s A Like Miss Lou (Owlkids) and Shauntay Grant’s My Hair is Beautiful (Nimbus).

 

The Star survey also makes a point of introducing demographics: “So, in picture books this year, 11.5 per cent of main characters were Black, compared to 3.5 per cent of the population.” This might lead one to conclude that Black children are actually over-represented in Canadian children’s literature and/or that Canadian publishers demonstrate a notable commitment to producing narratives about Blacks. By contrast, the Cooperative Children’s Book Center found that in the US in 2019, the number of books with Black main characters was 441 out of 3,716 or 11.9% of total books (Blacks represent 13% of the US population). But the CCBC doesn’t just look at the total number of books about different racial groups; they also indicate how many of those books are by authors of different races. US disability activist and author Corinne Duyvis coined the term #ownvoices to distinguish between books by cultural/community insiders and those created by outsiders. The latter are more likely to be inaccurate/inauthentic and the privileging of these books limits opportunities for creators from marginalized groups. The CCBC noted that in 2019, less than half of the books about Blacks were created by Blacks (212 out of 452). Additionally, only 5.7% of the total books they received were written and/or illustrated by at least one person who is Black. This crucial data is what’s missing from The Star’s survey. If only 2 of the 419 books for young readers published in Canada were created by Black Canadians, that’s 0.48%. Less than half of one percent—appalling and unacceptable. Maybe I’ve got it wrong—perhaps we missed a number of other titles by Black Canadian kid lit creators. Crowdsourcing that kind of data isn’t ideal; asking publishers to report the details about each title they publish instead of the overall number would make the survey more complete and the story about diversity in Canadian kid lit far more convincing.

Canadians like to think of themselves as more progressive and enlightened on matters of race than their neighbors to the south, and have even congratulated themselves on having a progressive publishing industry. In a 2016 School Library Journal essay titled “How Canada Publishes So Many Diverse Books,” Ken Setterington argues that “publishers in Canada are building a worldwide reputation for originality, quality, and diversity in children’s literature.” Yet the article’s dozen accompanying photographs reveal the overwhelming Whiteness of Canadian publishing professionals, proving it’s possible (and for some, perhaps, preferable) to publish “diverse books” without diversifying the publishing community itself. Here in the US, multicultural publisher Lee & Low has taken the lead by conducting two surveys of publishing professionals; the results are grim but nonetheless provide a clear picture of the industry as a whole.

Who has measured Black representation in the Canadian publishing industry? Acknowledging 2020 as “a year when Black Lives Matter and social activism have been front and centre in the media,” Deborah Dundas suggests that the Canadian publishing community “has been forcefully nudged” to address racism in its ranks. She points to the hiring of Sue Kuruvilla as head of Random House Canada as a sign of progress, and that does make me cautiously hopeful. But true equity cannot be achieved until the full story of race and publishing in Canada has been told.

 

Protected: the truth behind the story

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end of an era

For a decade, Edi and I have compiled an annual list of MG and YA books by Black authors. I wasn’t looking forward to posting the list this year and have finally decided to step down. Our list always drew from Edi’s year-long list of BIPOC new releases so it makes sense for her to carry on; you can find her 2020 list and analysis over at the Crazy Quilt Edi blog. Has tracking US publishers’ support of Black authors made a difference? I don’t know. Our lists definitely get a lot of hits throughout the year, and I hope some educators and librarians discovered the many Black kid lit creators who aren’t on Times Square billboards and don’t have publicists booking them on The Today Show. The NY Times just published an article about the appalling lack of diversity in publishing and I just read a piece in The Atlantic about the proposed merger of two corporate publishers—the “Big 5” is now the Big 4. What’s at stake?

As the big houses have become bigger and bigger, their business has become more about making money than art or protest, so that small publishers now provide a far wider variety of literature, politics, history, and journalism, of art making and truth-to-power-speaking, of actual risk taking—and from a far more diverse group of authors —than the commercial conglomerate publishers. And the bigger the big publishers get, I told the DOJ attorneys, the more risk-averse they become. The less willing they are to lose money. Audiences need to be expanded, not necessarily diversified. And then the safer, less boat-rocking, bigger-demographic-satisfying stuff they publish becomes what the marketplace they dominate adapts itself to sell. The risk aversion becomes systemic.

My publisher is the one gobbling up everyone else—will that improve things for a Black author like me? Probably not. If I had to fight for my series and for fair pay before, I’m not likely to be treated any better now that the publisher is even more invested in blockbusters. I’m going to try not to think about the industry as I work on finishing this picture book and revising my two novels over the holidays. It’s been a rough year and I’m ready to bake a little, play my favorite carols, and lose myself in the magic of Christmas.

let it snow

They’re predicting it will snow today. I don’t plan to leave the house but still spent a little time this morning looking at winter boots online. Then I went to my closet and realized I was about to buy a pair of boots that were identical to the pair I already own. I eat when I’m not hungry. I binge watch shows on mute. My right forearm has started to ache from spending too much time in front of the computer and the novel STILL ISN’T DONE. I just got yet another extension and think this will be the last one. But I’m feeling my age, y’all. I gave up all-nighters years ago but I can no longer churn out thousands and thousands of words every day. Fifteen hundred words seems to be my limit and some nights I turn in having written only seven or eight hundred. It all counts, it all moves the story forward. But last night I revisited Dragons in a Bag and realized I might have some inconsistencies in Book #3. I can leave that for the copy editors to catch, but it’s still troubling. I want to write efficiently but at this point, I can barely see the forest for the trees. I can focus on a paragraph, maybe a chapter, but I’ve lost all sense of the overarching narrative. I need a break! We’re hoping to have this book edited by Xmas, which is just a few weeks away…so no more dithering. I’ve been getting more steps in and I’m still doing my daily stretches and weights; SO thankful for this treadmill and my two local friends who invite me out for long walks. My Zooms are finally slowing down. Last week’s NCTE ten-person panel was a success and I jumped from that to an amazing raptor talk hosted by the Evanston Public Library; I’m also taking an African American theater class there this week. I baked some tasty cornbread for Thanksgiving and shared it with my friends. Scholastic posted these wonderful free resources on their blog since Dragons in a Bag is their Book Club Book of the Week, and I think I’m allowed to announce that The Dragon Thief has been adopted for the Scholastic Book Fair. Fans of the series seem to get younger and younger, which is sweet but something else I need to keep in mind as I write Book #3. For now, I just need to FINISH. So off to work I go…

 

let hope blaze

I don’t want to talk about the election and definitely didn’t plan to write a poem about it. But then I went for a walk with Cozbi on Friday and she named the condition of the golden maple trees: blight. Turns out these “tar spots” are the result of a fungus that doesn’t kill the tree. The next day I heard hollering in the street and that’s how I found out that Biden had won. I walked to the farmer’s market and ecstatic folks  were out in their cars, honking as they drove through Evanston in impromptu caravans. I know I can be Debbie Downer sometimes and this moment definitely reminds me of the day after President Obama won in 2008. I asked my students, “We now have a Black president. What else about the US has changed?” Saturday felt familiar…so much joy and relief, never mind the 70 million voters who tried to re-elect Trump. But I’m not here to say, “I told you so.” Instead I’m trying to allow myself (and others) these fleeting moments of joy.

Let Hope Blaze

let hope blaze

like the brassiest leaves

fanned gold and resplendent

against the blue sky

 

let my eye linger

only on beauty

and not on the blight

that mars each

saffron star

 

today

I can ignore

the lessons life’s

taught me

 

for now

I can choose

not to dwell

on the rot

 

in silence

I will honor

the glory of autumn

knowing that sometimes

the axe is the cure

© Zetta Elliott

heartfelt

It’s the end of October and as of this morning, I only have 23K words written. It’s not bad, but this week I didn’t hit my thousand word per day goal, and because it was my birthday on Monday, I cut myself some slack. Our architecture boat tour on Sunday was chilly but wonderful, and the next day I spent hours opening cards and gifts and thanking my incredibly generous friends. Tea, chocolate, flowers, dragons—and a stunning piece of original artwork. It snowed all morning, I had cake for breakfast, deep dish for lunch, ran a few errands, and still managed to write a thousand words before going to bed. The rest of the week wasn’t as productive but I discovered a historic rooming house for Black women in Bronzeville that I wrote into my novel, and today I’m going to Semicolon Books, a Black woman-owned bookstore for which I received a gift card. They run a book donation program for CPS students, so I’m taking a bag of books and then will wander around Bronzeville to see Elam House (right), The Forum, and the former home of Ida B. Wells. It’s Halloween and the city is bracing for the election on Tuesday; I hear the mayor is setting up roadblocks to help keep the peace, so I figured I would go downtown today and then stay in Evanston for the next week or so till things hopefully quiet down. We’re facing new restrictions here in IL as infection rates surge. I think the election won’t be decided for weeks to come and I think we’ll be living under quarantine for at least another year. So it’s important to pace ourselves, prepare for the worst, and work together to create the best possible outcome. Earlier this month I had the chance to speak with Matthew Winner on The Children’s Book Podcast, and he concluded his interview by asking me what message I would send along to the kids he would see in his library the next day: “Be gentle with yourself and with each other.” There are so many things beyond our control right now, but if you’re able—please VOTE and practice kindness this week. I found out the day after my birthday that my green card renewal application has been approved. My citizenship application is still pending so I can’t vote this year. That means I’m counting on the people in my community to choose a future that includes immigrants like me. As Arundhati Roy reminds us: “Another world is not only possible, she is on her way.”