Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 17

Three Chapters of DRAGONS IN A BAG read by Zetta Elliott

Poems of Hope & Healing from SAY HER NAME

we can’t breathe

from SAY HER NAME, illustrated by Loveis Wise

fear itself

I’m afraid of spiders. I’m better now than when I was young, and I don’t kill spiders if I can help it. I expected to find a lot of them in this Victorian house and there are webs in almost every corner, inside and out. But I haven’t seen a spider up close after nine months in this apartment…until this weekend when THREE spiders got way too close for comfort. On Mother’s Day I started to write a poem about the police killing of Breonna Taylor and somehow it turned into a poem about spiders—I was writing about fear, really, and how avoidance has become a way of stopping myself from feeling things too deeply. I can live with cobwebs in the corners. But I can’t claim to be okay with spiders unless I’m willing to let them be themselves. On Friday there was a jumping spider in the kitchen; it was on the floor so I just made sure to avoid stepping on it. But the next day I was reading on the sofa and that same skittish spider appeared on the armrest just a few inches away. I managed to put it outside but then woke up this morning to a big dark splotch on the bathroom wall—even without my glasses on, I knew it was a spider. That one was too big to try to move so I left it alone and now it’s out of sight. The things we fear can’t be avoided forever. I’ve been asked to write a short essay about finding balance during the pandemic and I think I’ll start with spiders. I’m struggling to finish my poem in a way that’s honest because I’m skirting the real issue: that it *hurts* every time another Black person is killed, every time it’s covered up, every time folks march for a Black male victim but not for a Black woman. On Saturday I attended a workshop to honor Aiyana Stanley-Jones who would’ve turned 18 if Detroit police hadn’t killed her ten years ago in much the same way they killed Breonna Taylor. I left the Zoom meeting early because of a migraine but today I’m feeling better and my unfinished poem is still waiting for me…this afternoon I saw a squirrel snacking on the seeds that fall from my feeder while the cardinals are stuffing their beaks. I’ve started leaving a container of water on the deck and it made me so happy to watch the squirrel stop to take a drink. Will I ever take comfort or find pleasure in watching a spider? If it was weaving a web out in the forest—sure. But in my home? Many of us try to keep the things that scare us at a distance, but sometimes we have to face the fear, let it in, sit with it for as long as we can. I’ve designed a life that lets me avoid a lot of things that cause me anxiety or make me uncomfortable. Some days I think of that as self-care. Some days it feels like cowardice. It’s probably somewhere in the middle. That’s what I want to say in my poem. So back to work…

boundaries

It’s Mother’s Day. I did my duty digitally yesterday, sending e-cards and gift certificates. I talked to my mom on the phone; we had planned a Zoom call but my sister’s dog is ill and no one wants to press her to show up online right now. I self-published a new book last week. There was a contest last year that I entered but didn’t win; I liked my entry, though, and so decided to make the book myself. The challenge was to create a story for kids age 0-3 years that celebrated the urban environment and helped caregivers promote language development. I don’t generally work with kids that age, but I knew the story had to be simple and I decided to make mine rhyme. My illustrator in Hong Kong told me it might take a while for her to finish the 8 illustrations because she now works full-time and takes freelance gigs on the side. Then Hong Kong erupted in political protests…and then the pandemic hit. She insisted she could keep working—that the book was a welcome distraction—and I tried to be reasonable about my revision requests. I started two picture book projects last year and I thought they would be done within a month or two; both have ended up taking much, much longer but I decided not to press either illustrator because they’re working as best they can under these conditions. And new books can’t be launched in the usual way—with a party at a bookstore or a signing at a book festival. Right now I’m just giving copies of ON MY BLOCK away to nonprofits and I’m happy just having it done. Here’s the summary:

A child shares their neighborhood’s best features by focusing on the sights, sounds, and scents on each block. Parks encourage urban wildlife, gardens add color and beauty, chalk drawings brighten the pavement, and different cultures blend in a single community. For very young children, their world is often only as big as the families and neighbors on their block, and these rhyming verses reflect that microcosm of urban life.

It’s Mother’s Day and the pain will be great for Ahmaud Arbery’s mother. There have been a number of police shootings lately, but the murder of a young Black man simply out for a run in Georgia has garnered the most attention because the killing was filmed. I had no interest in watching the video and appreciated a friend’s Facebook post reminding would-be allies that posting the video again and again retraumatizes many Black people who are already grieving. When I became a professor, my colleagues knew that I was doing research on lynching. But I had to set some boundaries because one White colleague thought it was helpful to leave photocopied images of lynch victims in my mailbox. It felt like he was saying, “Here’s one more for your collection!” It clearly didn’t occur to him that looking at those graphic images had an effect on me as a person. That finding one in my mailbox at the start of my work day might be painful or jarring. Every one has boundaries. Some folks are desperate to connect with others right now but be thoughtful, be gentle, and sometimes just be quiet.

Illustration from A PLACE INSIDE OF ME, illustrated by Noa Denmon.

building stamina

It’s May! Cranking out of a poem a day got harder this week, and I am looking forward to taking a break now that April is over. But I don’t want to stop altogether—the whole point of NaPoWriMo is to develop a poetry-writing practice, so I’ll try to keep it going. I won’t be teaching another poetry class until June, so I’ll have to find other ways to keep myself motivated. Yesterday was Poem in Your Pocket Day so I posted this tricube—I’d never even heard of the form (3 stanzas of 3 lines with 3 syllables per line) until my student Emmy suggested it during class. I’ve missed teaching but I don’t miss traveling…I did quite a few Zoom events last month and enjoyed connecting with kids, teens, and adults across the country. I know some people dread the extension of the lockdown, but it wouldn’t really bother me. I’m trying to be aware of my privilege: I have a spacious apartment with a deck and small yard, I can earn money without working outside my home, and I can pay for food delivery (though the May Day strike has me reconsidering that option). I remember being surprised months ago when I realized how many food pantries there were in Lancaster, but now I’m glad they exist and every donation I’ve made has resulted in a personal email of thanks. Today I went to Central Market and it was nice to see some familiar faces—everyone waiting in line was wearing a mask, and most people were using the red tape on the floor to maintain a proper distance from other shoppers. I worry about folks pushing to reopen businesses before we’re ready, but we don’t seem to have too many gun-toting extremists here in Central PA. I worry about a second surge in the fall but right now that feels like a lifetime away. Time is crawling but all we can do is live in the moment and let go of the luxury of planning our futures. We can still dream, of course, but we have to be practical about what’s possible…

practice makes perfect

I’m far from perfect when it comes to teaching with Zoom, but I think I’m definitely getting better! It helps that I’m getting plenty of practice. I delivered a keynote for Kansas State University on Saturday and I taught my second poetry class for the Brooklyn Public Library yesterday; I’ve got two Zoom meetings today another tomorrow, and another on Saturday. Next week I teach my last class on Monday and then give a guest lecture for a local university later in the week. May so far is pretty quiet with just one scheduled online event, so I’ll need to get back to writing. Mostly this month I’m just managing to write a poem a day. Yesterday for my class we talked about odes and students had the option of writing to a person or object. This poem isn’t really an ode, I don’t think, but I wrote it last spring after passing a lovely young apple tree. I decided to try an ode to the coronavirus but didn’t get too far. Will try again this afternoon in between my Zoom events. Saturday’s talk was fairly exhilarating—I couldn’t see any of the attendees since their screens were turned off, so I was just talking into my own camera and advancing slides that told a story about how my family history informs my fiction. Folks gave me really positive feedback on social media, and one attendee even captured some screenshots. Trying out a new talk can be a bit nerve-racking but I got up early to pull my materials together, my hosts were organized and supportive, and it went off without a hitch. A professor who attended my keynote invited me to present for her class in the fall, and it’s looking like many colleges will still be operating online by then. I started this year wanting to slow down and the pandemic has granted my wish…

practicing poet

Today I taught my first online poetry workshop! The Zoom platform is fairly straightforward and my participants were gracious and patient as I figured out how to move between my Powerpoint slideshow, YouTube video, MS Word document, and regular screen. It’s challenging to monitor the chat window while also looking at those who choose to use the video option. But I did it! And I was able to share a poem in progress to show how I created a turning point. The first two stanzas aren’t great but it got me to this final stanza, which is better but still needs work:

once Easter was

something solid I could

search for in tall grass

gather in a basket

taste on my tongue

but now it’s the faded

fragrance of lilies

left on the altar

of an empty church

I try to remember that the poems I write each day are drafts; most are 75% complete and I know that at the end of April, I’ll look them over and decide which ones are worth revising. The best part of NaPoWriMo is that it helps you to develop a practice—after a while you get used to producing a poem every day. You set time aside for reflecting and writing, but it’s not the same as working on a novel. There isn’t the same kind of continuity, which means you have to dig deeper to come up with something that can stand on its own. This afternoon several folks were brave enough to share their poems, and I was impressed with the quality of writing they produced in just a few minutes. Writing a poem a day is challenging but it’s made me more invested in expanding my vocabulary. I’ll hear a word on the news and the next day I’ll build a poem around that word. I just watched a documentary on mental illness so will likely write about that tomorrow. For next week’s class, I think we’ll try writing an ode. It’s a good time to pay tribute to the essential workers who are keeping us afloat right now…

It’s National Poetry Month!

I’m slowly working out a schedule that brings a sense of balance to my life. In addition to my night walks, I’m doing exercises throughout the day, pacing the apartment to boost my steps, and I realized this morning as I refilled the bird feeder that I can use the four steps leading up to the deck for a little extra cardio. Don’t get me wrong—I’m still napping, binge-watching Netflix, and reading for hours on the couch! Today I hid from a giant hornet that somehow found its way into my front room. I’m not pressuring myself to produce, though I’ve closed the quarantine series in order to do NaPoWriMo: writing a poem a day in honor of National Poetry Month. I’m posting poems from SAY HER NAME on social media this week, and I was proud to share this microfilm that I made here in Lancaster with the assistance of the expressive teen poets at The Mix. My editor Ibolya was working in Spain and we swapped lockdown tales while envying the artists in Germany who are getting support from the state. The plan was to film at least three microfilms and release them throughout the month of April, but Corona had other plans. But there’s still a place for poetry during a pandemic! Yesterday I sent a few haiku to my new penpal LR, a teen in detention in Kentucky. Imagine how frightening it would be to have no visitors and no family to comfort you during a pandemic. This afternoon I’m getting ready to work on my last teen character’s back story; I’ve got four teens in a halfway house, all convicted of murder. I was struggling to find the right circumstances for Millie until I heard an adult survivor of Jeffrey Epstein talking on the radio about her exploitation as a teen. It takes so many people to enable a serial abuser like Epstein, and it’s disgusting how he manipulated young girls into supplying him with even more victims—their friends, basically. I’m going to start there. Epstein allegedly took his own life in prison but what if one of his teen victims fought back?

Just as I was getting ready to write, the giant hornet came back. Then I got an email from Ancestry.com letting me know there are new “hints” about my Allen ancestors in Philadelphia. I’ve got 90 minutes before my 2-hour news binge begins at 5:30 with BBC World News. No pressure! We’ve got another month at home—longer, I suspect—so there’s time for everything to get done. Or not…

 

night walks

These are anxious times but my sleep pattern is the same as ever, which is a blessing. Tonight I took a walk to make up for the fact that I didn’t go for a run this morning; it rained most of the day and I used that as an excuse to loll in bed with a book for several hours. A new addition to my daily routine, night walks are soothing and a good way to get some exercise while avoiding people. A week ago I greeted anyone I happened to pass, but these days I step off the sidewalk to put six feet between us. I saw a meme on Facebook that said, “Act like you’re already infected,” and I think that’s a good approach. The news is depressing and I’m trying to limit my time on social media but for the most part, “socially distant” is how I normally live my life so I haven’t found it challenging to shelter in place. I don’t yet miss traveling and doing school visits, and am considering an offer to teach teens poetry in a four-part online class. A librarian in VA asked me to record a few chapters of DRAGONS IN A BAG for kids stuck at home, and then she made this great little video. A school in NYC has asked for a virtual visit, my keynote for an April conference has been moved online, and a couple of editors are interested in my PA novel-in-progress so I spent the weekend working on my writing sample. I’ve started a new series of quarantine poems and so I’m writing on a daily basis, which is good for my mental health. It’s hard to plan when we don’t know how long the pandemic will last, but one way I’ve learned to manage my anxiety is to follow a fear through to its worst possible conclusion. If I can’t move to Chicago, then I’ll stay in Lancaster a little while longer; if I don’t want to buy a home here, I’ll just continue to rent and save. If schools don’t reopen or request author visits, I’ll focus on finishing and selling more manuscripts. On Friday the ARCs for A PLACE INSIDE OF ME arrived; it comes out in July but it’s hard to know whether I’ll have to do a virtual launch instead of holding a party at a bookstore like I used to do. I don’t think anyone really knows what the “new normal” will be. But this pandemic has exposed the many disparities in our society. This shutdown is a chance for us to imagine new ways to strengthen ourselves and our communities. So when you’re making your new daily schedule, pencil in some time to dream…