Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 20

back to school!

Yesterday I spent a glorious fall day in Philly. The train from Lancaster ran express so I reached 30th Street Station in an hour and walked over to the nearby post office where I was greeted by a postal clerk who recognized me as a regular (and correctly predicted that I was mailing books). As I walked over to my first school my editor called to say we were *so close* to sending to print. I was able to get wifi at the school and sent off some last minute emails…and within a couple of hours the galley was out the door and on its way to the printer! The finished illustrations are SO beautiful—vibrant and funky and mesmerizing. Here’s a sample spread by Loveis Wise. I seriously hope she gets award recognition for her contribution to this book.

My first book talk was at a school that has lots of resources; my second visit was at a school that has far fewer resources and I left feeling a little demoralized. One 3rd grader told me her mother couldn’t afford to get her glasses so could I please make books with larger print. I couldn’t get into these schools when I lived in the neighborhood, but Sibylla at A Book A Day finally opened the door for me. I think what I do matters—the kids at both schools were captivated by my stories—but what am I doing to challenge structural inequality? Giving free book talks and donating books to schools in low-income communities feels like a drop in the ocean. I need to think about this some more. Redistribution has been on my mind a LOT lately and we’ve got to do something about the disparities in our schools.

I got some more good news yesterday—well, I’ve known for a while but had to keep it under wraps. The Ontario Library Association officially announced its nominees for the Forest of Reading,  and DRAGONS IN A BAG is a Silver Birch Award Express nominee! I’m thrilled that so many Canadian kids will now be reading my book. My dragons were also selected for a school-wide reading program in Columbia, MO and by a city-wide program on the west coast—but I can’t share that until November 1. Here’s some information about the Forest of Reading. I don’t think we had this when I was a child in Toronto…

The Forest of Reading® is Canada’s largest recreational reading program! This initiative of the Ontario Library Association (OLA) offers ten reading programs to encourage a love of reading in people of all ages. The Forest helps celebrate Canadian books, publishers, authors and illustrators. More than 270,000 readers participate annually from their school and/or public library. All Canadians are invited to participate via their local public library, school library, or individually.

The Forest of Reading Award Programs are where children and young adults pick the winner! Readers choose a program that they would like to be a part of, usually based on their age or grade, and simply begin reading! They can read all ten of the titles, or pick and choose to read only the ones they are interested in. Participants are encouraged to read at least five of the ten titles to be eligible to vote in April. This program aims to encourage a genuine and life-long love of reading among readers of all ages.

coming soon!

I got my first copy of THE DRAGON THIEF yesterday—the finished art by Geneva B is amazing! I’m hoping to do a few school visits here in Lancaster on the pub date of October 22, and that evening I’ll be part of the Embrace Race webinar with Marti Dumas. It’s free and you can register here:

“Fantasy fiction has always been about more than cool abilities and alternate universes. Whether the heroes are seemingly regular kids, mermaids, cyborgs, witches or what-have-you, the stories are often propelled by issues of power and justice, and they often empower readers to expect and imagine possibilities that upend conventions. But why then does a genre known for upending conventions still insist on making the vast majority of its heroes and main characters white? Whether we’re talking Harry Potter or Frozen, the lack of inclusion (and not just racial) in a form often structured as a challenge to a fictionalized status quo is striking.

Join us for a conversation with Marti Dumas and Zetta Elliott, two fantastic children’s book authors, about how inclusive fantasy fiction empowers all young readers. They argue that magic is ultimately about power, that ALL children need to know that they can make–and unmake–worlds, both real and imagined. Marti and Zetta will also read from their books, suggest inclusive fantasy fiction titles for the kids in your life, and take your questions.”

On October 26—my own birthday!—I’ll be doing a launch event at Uncle Bobbie’s in Philly. Will see if I can come up with some gluten-free, nut-free dragon treats. Please join us if you can!

when I close my eyes

This week I flew with my eyes closed. I didn’t have a book and the magazines a flight attendant gifted me just weren’t holding my attention. So on the plane I shut my eyes and let myself dream instead. I’ve said before that crises activate my imagination, and sometimes going back to Toronto feels like a kind of crisis. This time I was helping my mother move into a retirement home, which meant purging and packing her belongings. My mother is something of a hoarder—not the stacks of newspapers from floor to ceiling type, but she had twenty vases. Seriously—20. She had tons of chachkas and decorative holiday napkins and things my grandparents had given her that she didn’t need but found it hard to give up. I’m fairly ruthless when it comes to “stuff” and don’t feel bad at all when I donate or regift something I no longer want or need. But I still came home with three fancy Royal Doulton teacups and saucers, a crystal dish, a Limoges candy dish I used to admire as a child, and a precious Xmas ornament that would have been lost forever if my mother wasn’t such a hoarder. Most of the packing I did over the past week was for stuff going to the charity shop and it was tedious and tiring. I was in introvert overload mode because, of course, I needed a break from packing and taking care of my mother and so I tried to see as many folks as possible during my 5-day trip. I finally got up to Picton to see my friend’s beautiful farm, and I spent a day downtown meeting with publishing people. I talked a lot and I didn’t write at all (though I tried to stay on top of my inbox, which always seems to fill with requests as soon as I leave town). I didn’t write but I did dream—especially when I was on the plane. And because I flew out of Harrisburg, I had a stopover in DC before reaching Toronto. The two flights were short but the dreams were vivid and intense—it was almost like using a remote to flip through TV channels. Each “show” was more interesting than the last so I kept going back and forth between book projects. When I got home this afternoon, I turned the computer on and tried to write down at least one of the scenes that had played out in my head. It’s a YA novel in verse that I pitched to a young editor I met with yesterday. It’s a bit risky and I certainly don’t want to cause her any grief in her new job, especially when she’s working hard to get Black writers through the door. But then I think—she knows what she’s getting with me. And if I am FINALLY going to get published in Canada, then I want that first book to be authentic. Daring. Difficult. I have so much work to do but I’ve already decided to give myself as much silence and solitude as I need over the weekend. And if I need to sit in this armchair and close my eyes for a while, then that’s what I’ll do. Because dreaming is part of the work—not the hardest part, but it still counts.

the clash

I’m listening to The Clash right now and “Police & Thieves” has a ska beat, if I’m not mistaken (just checked—it’s a cover of a reggae song by Junior Murvin). Last week I went to a Basquiat exhibit on police brutality at the Guggenheim and I’ve since written one poem about my 12-year-old character’s take on the provocative paintings. Today’s task is to write a poem about the first time he hears The Clash after a White friend gives him a mixtape. We sold a middle grade novel-in-verse a few weeks ago but the project hasn’t been announced so I’m keeping mum for now. I’ve got a few things under wraps—Dragons in a Bag is part of two big literacy initiatives but I’m not allowed to share details until October 15 and November 1. All week I’ve had to spend 2-3 hours clearing my inbox because trips have to be planned and invitations accepted or declined. It’s kind of a tedious way to start the day, but it’s also heartening to know that my work is circulating and resonating with more people. Still, it’s easy to mistake all this email correspondence for the work itself and it’s NOT—books still have to be written and so I made a writing agenda yesterday to help keep me on track. I think I can finish the MG novel by the end of October IF I focus for the next few weeks. But, of course, as I worked on my agenda, I came up with another idea for a YA novel-in-verse. Carlisle isn’t too far from Lancaster and I’ve been thinking about the residential school there that traumatized so many Native American children. Not my story to tell but…I have a YA dystopian novel that touches on how a group’s culture is broken so I’ve already done a little research. And what if a Black girl in the 1880s somehow met up with a runaway from the residential school. There seem to be so many obvious overlaps. Will think about it some more. An editor in Canada just reached out about collaborating so will see how she feels about that idea. Then there’s Daughters of Zion—I’ve compiled the names of ten Black women from Lancaster County whose voices need to be heard. #7 is Hannah Bosley, a formerly enslaved woman who ran a boarding house in Columbia. Her portrait is so intriguing—did she bring those items as a way of showing her status or wealth? Or were they accessories she needed in her profession? Why have a muff *and* mitts—unless the mitts were for handling something hot. Is her basket wrapped in something like duct tape? Did she sell hot pies? So many possibilities…

I’m hoping to have at least a few of the dramatic monologues written by the end of the year because Franklin & Marshall College will be hosting Sonya Clark as artist-in-residence and I’ve been invited to contribute to their programming. I haven’t been in Lancaster for two months and I feel like I keep getting signs that moving here was the right decision to make at the right time. I wanted to travel less, which means I’m “bundling” gigs when I do go out of state. And because my cost of living has been drastically reduced, my fall income is going a lot farther. I went to church last Sunday (!!!) for the first time in decades; everyone at Bethel AME was welcoming and now I’ve got more potential collaborators. The burial ground next to the church includes several women and infant girls from the Moton family…think I’ll add at least one of them to my book. It almost seems too easy, the way things are falling into place. But a Black feminist artist friend reminded me that sometimes struggle is all we know and all we’ve come to expect. It isn’t like that for everyone. It doesn’t have to be like that for me.

Last week The Conscious Kid kindly hosted the cover reveal for . I have a lot of respect for that duo so it meant a lot that they were moved by my poems. A Black woman scholar who will be moderating one of my panels at NCTE read it as well and called SHN “glorious.” I’ll be talking about the book at YALSA in Memphis and then again at NCTE in Baltimore. Yesterday I attended a webinar on the Harriet Tubman Museum and Education Center in Maryland; Edi and I are going to try to drive out there during the conference. And, of course, the film‘s coming soon…

Thought I would write out on the deck this afternoon; there’s a cool breeze making my wind chime sing, and I hear birds chattering in the pine trees. They haven’t discovered my bird feeder yet but I’m still hopeful. Sadly my wifi doesn’t seem to be working back here so I’ll have to go inside to publish this post. Tomorrow I head up to Toronto for a few days. Doubt I’ll get much writing done but I have an interview with the kid lit columnist for The Globe & Mail—that counts as work! And will try to pen a few haiku since I see butterflies everywhere and they’re certainly worth 17 syllables…

butterflies cast the

smallest shadows as they dance

in September sun

 

lemon bars & cheese

It’s been five years since I quit my job. For the most part, I love freelancing and don’t regret giving up traditional employment; I can pay my bills and arrange my schedule so that writing is my top priority. I do miss teaching and realize I’ve been binge-watching UK crime dramas partly because I miss being part of a team. I don’t love meetings that go on forever and group emails where everyone hits “reply all,” but it means something to have a group of people that you see day after day, week after week. Coworkers don’t always become friends and they aren’t your family, but they’re THERE—we often spend more time with them than anyone else. I enjoy spending most of my time alone but here in Lancaster I’m trying to change my ways. I say I’m not a joiner but I’ve become a member of the historical society and these folks are becoming my new coworkers. On Saturday I went with two members to a commemoration of the Christiana Resistance; there’s a lot of Underground Railroad history in Pennsylvania and I doubt I’ll pursue all the stories and sites, but being with other history geeks is still a lot of fun. And productive because people who are passionate about a subject love to have an audience and don’t mind answering endless questions. Tim and Randy are both experts in the field and generously shared their knowledge with me. Over lunch I found out about Harriet Sweeney, a “pow-wow doctor” who founded an AME church in Conestoga and healed members of the community using traditional German charms and prayers. Tim shared that bit of information; he’s a researcher who haunts the library but wisely travels with treats. When we couldn’t find a diner and traffic slowed us to a crawl, Tim pulled out his tray of lemon bars and bag of sliced farm cheese, which tided us over till we reached the restaurant.

On Sunday I made up a table of contents for Daughters of Zion—that’s what I’m tentatively calling my collection of dramatic monologues featuring the Black women of Lancaster county. I’m at 8 already and figure I’ll aim for 12. In the afternoon I attended another meeting of the historical society and learned about three other remarkable woman—the stories are out there and a few brave women are already pushing for greater recognition of their contributions. Because let’s face it—people find what they’re looking for and a lot of male historians simply aren’t interested in women. Meetings can be *agonizing* but I’m going to try to stick with this group for at least a few months…because even though I’m not a joiner, I’m also not a quitter…

whitewash

I’m painting–again. Several doors in the apartment were marred so early this morning I gave them a fresh coat of white paint. For the most part, my apartment is done. I’ve been in Lancaster for three weeks and all but one box has been unpacked; everything has a place, the dining table is being repaired, and the kitchen table was repainted yesterday. I managed to bring it inside on my own, so that means the deck is ready for my attention and I’ve ordered a nice weatherproof rug. The traffic at the front of the apartment gets quite loud so working out back might be a good idea. I bought a wind chime and want to get a bird feeder to see if I can tempt some of the songbirds I keep hearing over to my deck. I’m doing all this to procrastinate, of course. I haven’t written much since I moved, though I’ve been doing a little research. I visited Rock Ford Plantation last week; my friend is a docent there and she told me about an enslaved woman who ran away while pregnant. You can read the notice her enslaver posted in the newspaper—was he also the father of her child? Who’s Capt. Mol’y?!?! Sue was a fashionista it seems and yet the only dress on display belonged to the mistress of the house…it’s her tiara on view, her jewels and pearls and china and silver tongs…There’s enough “residue” for me to start writing, but it’s still frustrating to know that the official historical record is so incomplete. Not whitewashed, though—the docent was a member of the African American Historical Society and she opened the tour with documents about the two enslaved people who contributed to the wealth of the Hand family. More slaves likely worked on the large farm but only two are recorded as runaways…

This week we’re doing the cover reveal for ! I’m thrilled to be partnering with The Conscious Kid—if you aren’t following them already, you should be…their social media posts are always on point, and remind me that the kid lit community can and should be engaging with a range of social justice issues. I’m not sure how my poems about police brutality, sexual assault, and human trafficking will be received but this educator definitely sees the value in my book:

I started a picture book over the weekend and began composing a poem this morning…time to write!

taking up space

One of the things I learned as a child in Canada was how to take up as little space as possible. I was intelligent but insecure, and by the time I was a teenager I had perfected my ability to blend into the background. If I didn’t draw attention to myself, no one would pick on me or scrutinize me and find fault (a favorite family pastime). That desire to disappear lasted through college but by the time I reached NYC and started graduate school, something had to give. I couldn’t fight to restore Black women who had been erased from the historical record if I was silent and invisible myself. Plus I discovered that I loved to teach and that meant taking center stage despite acute anxiety. I know some people think I’m a loudmouth but I won’t grab the mic unless I have to…it’s got to be urgent for me to surrender the security of the sidelines.

I’ve written and presented on the need for inclusive kid lit for about a decade now, and I do feel like a broken record at times. But it’s rare for three Black Canadian women to have half an hour to discuss this issue—and that’s exactly what happened last night. We taped this segment for The Agenda when I was in Toronto last May, but it aired on TVO last night; you can watch the full episode here.

I’ve done a few TV interviews but it’s clear to me that I was totally at ease talking to host Nam Kiwanuka and activist/literary agent Leonicka Valcius. It still feels a bit strange suddenly being so visible in Canada, but hopefully I’ll be able to build on that visibility when The Dragon Thief comes out in October…

lost without lists

I manage my anxiety by making lists. And as a freelancer, having a To Do list helps me structure my days—many of which are wide open right now. There was so much to do around the move but now I’m here, settling in, and there isn’t a lot left…the furniture guy is fixing the two tables that got splattered with paint. I need to mop the kitchen floor. Soon it will be time to do laundry. My hair’s growing out and needs to be cut. My printer has stopped working. These are the mundane things that eat into your day but don’t really give you a sense of purpose. I’ve reached out to a couple of schools here in Lancaster but they just started back on Monday so I’ll wait a few weeks before following up. We have a partial manuscript that seems to be on the brink of a sale; I’m thinking about it a lot but not working on it right now. Once all the back and forth is over, I’ll take a look at my section and map out what I need to do. Phone conference tomorrow morning; axe throwing tonight. In September I often get the back-to-school blues so I want to make sure I don’t have too much time to ruminate. Daydreaming is good, but going over past hurts again and again is not.

My dragons found their way onto another kind of list recently: BookRiot’s Best Chapter Books for Kids: Engaging with Words.

The segment of The Agenda that I taped last spring with host Nam Kiwanuka and literary agent Leonicka Valcius will air this Friday at 8pm. If (like me) you aren’t in Canada, I’ll post the link next week.

I connected with some good folks in Memphis this week. I’m going down next month and then again in November for a couple of kid lit events. If you’re in the area, do drop by! And I’m free on 9/27 if you’re looking to book an author visit or campus talk…

a house is not a home

Every so often I hear that Luther Vandross song and sigh…such a beautiful voice and such a powerful message in those lyrics. I’ve learned a few things about myself during this move. It was chaotic and stressful and I would have been lost if my neighbor-friend hadn’t shown up at the last minute to save me. Last week as I was scrambling to pack and paint and move my belongings, I realized I was nervous about doing it all on my own and yet I didn’t really have much choice. My friends in Philly were swamped and I couldn’t bring myself to hire a helper on Task Rabbit. Everything worked out in the end—it always does—but I have some work to do on the emotional side of things. I’ve made so many choices in my life and I’m okay with almost all of them; I don’t really have regrets. Yet at our Black Girlhood & Beyond event earlier this month, I closed by recalling the best piece of advice I learned in therapy: the defenses you needed as a child don’t always serve you as an adult. As a child I learned to rely only on myself; somewhere on my way to adulthood, I gave up on the idea of family (starting one of my own, at least) and tried to focus on community. Yet I moved to Philly a year ago and didn’t really do enough to connect with my neighbors. I felt like I was reaching out—as much as an introvert ever does—but I didn’t forge many friendships or professional relationships. I want things to be different in Lancaster and so far it looks like I’m on the right track. There’s an elementary school down the block; turns out my cable guy Anthony attended that school and so after he left yesterday, I reached out to their Facebook page and got an immediate, welcoming response. I visited my local schools in Philly and donated a huge stack of books to each one, but never got invited back to present. I guess I should have followed up but I want people to meet me half way. Here in Lancaster that’s happening already—I just got back from a meeting of the folks who run the wonderful African American heritage walking tour; I didn’t have too much to contribute since I only attended the tour a couple of weeks ago and they were all trained guides, but I enjoyed the conversation and connected with some friendly people who offered to meet for lunch and tell me more about the county. I got a ride home with a guide who lives at the end of my block and his son attends the elementary school I hope to present at this fall! Once again, I felt like I’d found “my people.”

I had some small disasters during the move—including a can of blue paint spilling all over my furniture during transit—but I didn’t freak out. By the time the movers got here and opened the truck to reveal the damage, I was so ready to move forward that I told them not to worry about it. They were more upset than I was! We got everything else moved into the apartment, and when two bigger pieces of furniture wouldn’t fit through one doorway, we fit them through another. Which means I now have two living rooms and it’s fine. I knew before leaving Philly that I needed to downsize; I donated 3 pieces of furniture but really it was those bigger items that needed to go. But, I reasoned, when I buy a house, I might want bigger furniture! Now I realize I don’t want a big house because then I’ll just fill it with more stuff. And I HATE stuff. I love beautiful things and it’s fun to see my belongings in this new space. But those things aren’t what make a house a home…I’m alone most of the time and most of the time I like it that way. But I want to make a real life for myself here and that means I’ve got to work harder to connect with folks. I need to OPEN my home to others. I need to contribute to my neighborhood. I just joined the Chestnut Hill Facebook group, and will get my library card tomorrow, and swing by the hardware store to see if I can locate a handyman to install a new air conditioner since the one I lugged from Brooklyn to Philly to Lancaster doesn’t even WORK anymore. And that’s okay, too—because the little one in my study window is keeping 2/3 of the apartment cool. I don’t have to rush to unpack. The apartment isn’t as clean as I might have liked and that’s slowing everything down. But there isn’t a deadline. I don’t have a gig until September 19 so I don’t have to travel or pack a suitcase or prep for anything till then. I’m collaborating with a great author on a new novel; the pitch went out late last week and we’ve got an editor interested already who wants to talk on Friday. I have two other contracts in process, and will ask around to see if a local bookstore might want to host a launch for THE DRAGON THIEF in October. I think Lancaster might be the right scale for me; Philly was slower and smaller than NYC but this city feels more intimate. It’s only two square miles! Tomorrow I head over to the local college’s track for my run since the county park is too far away. My muscles are still a bit sore from climbing on and off the step ladder to paint and hauling stuff up to the third floor for several hours on Monday. Those poor college guys were soaked with sweat because it was close to a hundred degrees. I didn’t hustle like they did but I did my part. That’s what I need to keep on doing—find a way to contribute. It serves me well as a writer to know how to sit back and observe those around me. But I need to be less of a bystander and more of a doer this time around. That is what will make Lancaster feel like home.

making waves

Tomorrow’s the big day! I hate clutter and disorder, so moving isn’t fun for me…but it IS exciting to be starting a new chapter of my Pennsylvania life, and I’m thankfully less anxious at 46 than I was at 26. I tried to paint the new apartment but after three hours of using a roller without air conditioning yesterday, I gave up and came back to Philly. Today I got up early and got some boxes; almost all of my closets have been emptied and it looks like I might even have a few boxes left over. I’ve done this move in shifts; hopefully moving smaller things on my own will make it easier for the movers tomorrow. We’re in yet another heatwave and I can’t WAIT for fall to begin—cooler temps, leaves changing color, and a new book coming out the week before my birthday! It was lovely to see THE DRAGON THIEF included in CBC Books’ list of Canadian MG and YA books to look for this fall. Some of my older indie titles have also been getting a little love this summer—Scholastic wants to reprint DAYSHAUN’S GIFT and Pearson just asked for permission to use I LOVE SNOW in their classroom material. Then today, author/blogger Kara Stewart posted an amazing review of A WAVE CAME THROUGH OUR WINDOW. Kara’s also a teacher and she’s dedicated her blog From Here to Writernity to reviews that show educators how to use inclusive kid lit in the classroom. I sometimes provide discussion guides at the back of my books, but I couldn’t do what Kara has done—do check out her blog and the way she incorporates very specific learning objectives. Here’s an example:

Just off the top of my head, I’m thinking Strategy 6.13: Show, Don’t Tell: Using Senses to Describe Places from the Serravallo Writing Strategies book, as well as 6.14: Show, Don’t Tell: Emotions. You can also definitely find a mentor sentence here to suit your students’ needs, as in 6.38: Mentor Sentences.

For Goal 7: Word Choice, 7.4: Bring Objects to Life, 7.5 Verbs That Match the Meaning, and definitely 7.8: Sneaky Sounds: Alliteration, Consonance and Assonance.

The more you return to a particular mentor text, the more students (and you!) will understand how that text works and how you can edit your writing by using the mentor text example.

And A Wave Came Through Our Window is just plain darn beautiful descriptive writing you and your kids will love.

What a gift to have a teacher take the time to apply her expertise to my book! It’s humbling—not just to have my book chosen, but to realize how many things educators have to consider when helping students learn how to write.

Okay, I might try to nap if my whirling mind will slow down and give me some peace. Next time I blog, I’ll be in my new home in Lancaster!