Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 32

troublemaker

I met Ruben Brosbe a few years ago and knew right away that he was an educator committed to social justice. He’s written a fantastic profile of me, “The Troublemaker: Zetta Elliott & the Future of Children’s Literature,” for Brooklyn Magazine and in it, Ruben pulls no punches! Here’s a glimpse:

Some people might consider Elliott impatient. Zetta has suggested (as did a publishing industry professional who spoke to me off the record) that she would have more success with publishing her work if she learned to play nice and put more trust in white editors and publishers.

“I’m really not interested in having a conversation with someone who’s not going to tell the truth,” Elliott says. “Everyone wants reconciliation without the truth.”

This is where the ‘activist’ title once again feels appropriate. The publishers and others admonishing Elliott to slow down bring to mind the white moderates Dr. King complained of in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” or at the very least contemporary white liberals who support the motives of #BlackLivesMatter while tsk-tsking their sense of urgency.

Ruben keeps a special basket of my books in his classroom and I can’t WAIT to share The Ghosts in the Castle with his fourth-grade students up in Harlem. It’s not quite done yet, but I’m close!

final stretch

Writing a thousand words a day is exhausting, but I am very close to completing The Ghosts in the Castle. It’s raining today and I’d really like to go back to bed, but instead I’m going to run some errands and then sit down at the computer to finish Chapters 8 and 10. Chapter 9 I’ll save for tomorrow because it’s the only section that’s completely blank in my manuscript. I *think* I know what I need to write there, but it’s easier to just fill in the blanks for those other half-written chapters. Charity Russell is doing great work on the illustrations; I’ve selected this image for the cover and think it will look amazing in full color. The interior illustrations will be black and white, but that gives kids the option of coloring them in themselves. Tomorrow night is the season premiere of Vikings…will tune in to the History Channel if I finish this novel, but know I’m not ready to start my Viking novel yet. I’ve got my complete list of manuscripts pinned to the wall; I look at it every day so I always know what’s next, what needs more time, what’s overdue. Looking forward to more holiday writing—and less binge eating—as I finish The Return over Xmas…

it’s official

I wrote close to 1500 words yesterday and then got a lovely email from Beth Phelan congratulating me on my new book. Beth developed the #DVpit initiative and that’s how I met my agent last spring. Since then, Jenn has sold two manuscripts and the second sale was announced in Publishers Weekly yesterday:

Kids need inclusive spec fic NOW, which makes it hard to wait two years for this book to come out. But I’m making good progress on The Ghosts in the Castle and will no doubt get The Gryphons at the Gate (City Kids Book #4) out next spring. To a lot of educators and librarians, only the Random House book will count as legitimate, but I’m going to continue to self-publish until the publishing industry operates at the pace of the 21st century…

I’ve managed to come down with a cold but stocked up on Sudafed yesterday and plan to hunker down and write for the rest of the week. A thousand words a day will get me to the end of this novel, and Charity Russell is already doing a great job with the illustrations…I’m mindful of my many blessings and hope you’re aware of yours, too. Enjoy the holiday!

in the wind

After unseasonably high temps in Atlanta last Friday, the weather turned and we had a gusty, brisk day that made me glad for my coat and scarf. When I got back to Brooklyn Saturday night, it was rainy and cool; the next day I had to dig out my down coat because temps dropped to the 40s. I still got out for a run that morning and then went to the Lower East Side to have a delicious afternoon tea with a friend. On the way home I discovered that I’d lost my unlimited metrocard. It only had two days left on it so I wasn’t too upset, and I’m looking forward to being home a LOT this week—no appointments, no school visits, just plenty of time to build on the progress I made on Ghosts while in Atlanta. I went to the post office today and sent off dozens of books; I sent out a slew of emails as well, and may never get a response but at least I’m sowing seeds. The one Black male clerk on duty at the post office was his usual unfriendly self, and that made me think of the last NCTE panel I attended before heading home: “’We Lift as We Climb’: Navigating Academe as Persons of Color, Narrating Experiences as Inside-Outsiders.” The five scholars of color expertly addressed concerns raised by the teachers and junior faculty in attendance. One Black male doctoral candidate asked how to identify potential allies when solidarity among Black people couldn’t automatically be counted on–“He may look like me but that doesn’t mean he’s with me.” And lots of heads were nodding…when one young teacher-in-training told a tearful story of being erased in her all-White graduate classes, at least six New Yorkers stood up, spoke out, and otherwise made clear to her that they had her back and had all been through similar situations. I felt odd watching this conversation unfold because I sympathized yet left the academy years ago, and never really had a mentor to turn to—my friends from grad school were my main source of support. And we knew better than to automatically place our trust in the elders who might once have been radical junior scholars like us, but had since mellowed as they moved into administration. So it was encouraging to hear the scholars on this panel express their commitment to using whatever rank and influence they’d attained to defend those coming up behind them. When the panel ended, I gave away most of the books I’d brought to any interested educators in the room. To my surprise, four women of color came up to me and asked, “Are you Zetta Elliott?” One told me about a second grader who never talked about the loss of his mother until he read BIRD. Two others said they used my essays in their classes (it’s nice to know I’m not just whistling in the wind), and another had heard about me from Prof. Ebony Thomas (who could easily be a publicist the way she talks up my books!) I don’t know why that man at the post office is so miserable but since he’s always that way (except with White customers), I’m not going to take it personally. There’s so much negativity on offer right now, I’m choosing to focus on the positive. NCTE was a great experience and it was lovely to meet new people and see old friends—especially the ones from Arkansas who came out to our 8am panel! Everyone in line at the Publisher Spotlight booth in the exhibit hall was gracious and kind, and we blew through the stack of Melena’s Jubilee in under half an hour! If I get Ghosts in the Castle done this week, I’ll publish my 25th book for young readers before the end of the year. I’ve got two potential illustrators interested in The Return, so that book will likely be my first of the new year. We definitely have challenges ahead with this new administration, but in my heart I know we got this. That’s what I choose to believe…

I’m at NCTE!

It was 80 degrees in Atlanta today, but it was nice and cool inside the World Congress Center. I’m proud of myself for doing better on this last road trip of the year; so far I’ve gotten my steps in by walking instead of taking a cab, I just had a huge salad for dinner (with only a small slice of cake and ONE slice of pizza), I had fresh fruit for lunch, and I managed to get some writing done while waiting for a friend at a cafe. I’ve met some incredible educators and reconnected with old friends…and now I’m holed up in the hotel hoping to finish two or three chapters of The Ghosts in the Castle.

Tomorrow I’ll be with Prof. Dixie Keyes, author Crystal Allen, and educator Corey Oliver for our 8am panel “Everyone Has a Story: Authors Advocating for Student Writing” (Room A402). I brought a few Rosetta Press books to sell and then at 10am I head over to Publisher Spotlight’s booth (434) to sign copies of Melena’s Jubilee. Then it’s lunch with friends and off to the airport. I’d really like to see Gregory Christie’s store at the Decatur Mall…he’s signing at 11am, so I’ll get to see him in the exhibit hall—and you will, too, if you stop by!

Okay, back to writing…

museums and mirrors

I have been obsessed with ancient Egypt since I was a child. When the treasures of Tutankhamun’s tomb toured Canada in 1979, my big sister’s class went to the museum but mine did not. I coveted the replica artifacts she brought home from the gift shop, and devoured all the books in our library that had anything to do with pharaohs and pyramids. In high school I took a course on Ancient History and pulled my first all-nighter putting the finishing touches on my art project about Egyptian burial rituals. But by college, my interest in history had shifted to the medieval period and I traded pyramids in Egypt for castles in England.

It wasn’t until I moved to Brooklyn after graduation that I began to consider the significance of my childhood fascination with ancient Egypt. Despite Hollywood’s attempts to whitewash both rulers and gods, I always knew that ancient Egyptians were people of color—all the artifacts I had ever seen confirmed that they were brown-skinned, full-lipped, wide-hipped, and black-haired. I saw myself in the scenes painted on tomb walls, but I was a young adult before I realized that Egypt was part of Africa. I never learned about Nubia or the Kushites or the Pharaoh Taharqa when I was a child, and only discovered the Senegalese scholar Cheik Anta Diop in graduate school. Diop refuted the claim of generations of European and American historians that the ancient Egyptians were White and more Mediterranean than African. I was at NYU to be trained as a scholar, but those years ultimately confirmed my calling as a storyteller. I began writing for children with a commitment to creating “mirror books” that put kids of color and their cultures at the center of the story.

Twenty years have passed and I now have over twenty titles for young readers. You likely won’t find them in local bookstores, but last weekend I almost sold out of books at the Brooklyn Museum’s Tenth Annual Children’s Book Fair. This was my fifth year participating in the event, and as I sat behind my table in the bustling glass pavilion, I remembered the first time I saw the Brooklyn Museum. The entrance was under construction but the scaffolding was cleverly concealed by a painting of the kohl-lined eyes of an Egyptian sarcophagus. As we drove along Eastern Parkway I marveled at the museum and made a mental note: “That’s for me.”

Children do the same thing when they discover a “mirror book,” and it’s incredibly gratifying to see Black children’s eyes light up when they see themselves represented on the covers of my books. At the book fair I was struck by the number of Black parents who wanted me to take a photo with their child—one mother even handed me her baby! Clearly it means a lot to these parents that their children can see a Black author and know that making books is an option for them, too. I’m proud to be a mirror in that sense—I hope kids do look at me and see what’s possible for themselves.

When editors rejected my latest picture book Milo’s Museum as “too didactic,” I chose to publish it myself. It was inspired by The Colored Girls Museum in Philadelphia and the new Smithsonian Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, DC—two institutions founded by Blacks to tell the many stories that are missing from “the official record.” I wanted kids to understand a curator’s role in deciding what belongs inside a museum, and I included a “how to” guide at the back of the book so that kids can think about the objects that tell their own family’s story.

Bullying and bigotry are the example set by the country’s president-elect, and I’d argue that it’s a good time for White America to take a good long look in the mirror. Though it may seem innocuous, children’s literature has an important role to play in shaping this nation’s youth. “Mirror books” can bolster the self-esteem of our most vulnerable kids and teen, and more “window books” can teach empathy and kindness, which might help to break down the barriers that threaten to divide us.

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it’s time to tell the truth

A group of concerned kid lit authors and illustrators signed their names to a letter posted over at The Brown Bookshelf this morning. The letter first came to my attention in late September; author and BBS blogger Kelly Starling Lyons explained that it was written “to collectively express our outrage at the systemic racism and brutality that’s devastating our kids and affirm our commitment to standing with them and for them.”

That’s a noble objective and so I agreed to become a signatory but asked whether the letter could be revised to acknowledge the role of publishing gatekeepers (who today are overwhelmingly straight, White cis-gender women without disabilities). It didn’t make sense, I felt, merely to affirm our desire to provide inspiring, inclusive books without pointing out the racial disparities resulting from dominance within the industry by one particular group.

Since the letter was already circulating, however, I was told that changes couldn’t be made. After the election last week, the letter (which had not yet found an online home—I wonder why?) was revised and sent to me once more; I agreed to sign on but again asked if we could add a section imploring publishing professionals to match our intent with equal opportunity.

This would be an opportune moment to welcome agents, editors, and other publishing professionals to JOIN US and open the door wider so that the industry finally, truly reflects our society. Can we please add a line asking for partnership because we can’t get these stories out on our own…and the current climate is due, in part, to the lack of diversity [in publishing] over the past century.“

Once again, it was too late to change the letter and so I’m writing this “amendment” to register my concerns.

The letter states, “The stakes are too high for us to be silent.” I couldn’t agree more. 

Many of us have always known that the lack of inclusive kid lit can have life or death consequences for young people, but our pleas have largely fallen on deaf ears. There has been no accountability, no apology.

Now is the time to tell the truth, and the truth is that White women have some explaining to do.

The president-elect is a bigot and a bully whose example has emboldened people—including teens and young adults—to insult, menace, and assault members of racial, sexual, and religious minorities. To some, it was a shock to learn that White women helped put Trump in the White House, but many of us were not surprised at all. Women of color in particular know that solidarity with White women is not—and never has been—automatic, especially when it comes to voting. This article sums it up perfectly: “American women voted overwhelmingly for Clinton, except the white ones.”

I signed the BBS letter because I share the view that #booksfighthate. But it needs to be said that we would have more tools at our disposal if publishing’s gatekeepers truly believed in and worked to achieve equity (and not just diversity). Wear a safety pin if you want, but know that some of us expect much, much more.

A letter cannot stem the tide of hate that Trump’s election has unleashed. Symbolic gestures have their place, but what we need now is for White women to collectively refuse to uphold the systems that perpetuate injustice–and that includes the publishing industry.

wonder brain, activate!

I don’t have a superhero twin but I think I do have another self that responds to trauma by becoming more creative. When Hurricane Katrina hit Louisiana, I was in Baton Rouge—new to the city, new to the South, unsure I would be able to fit in at my new job at LSU. Then the campus became home to hundreds of displaced residents and students from New Orleans, and I just switched into a different mode. I turned CNN off, volunteered at the football stadium where folks were being housed, and when that wore me out, I came home, turned on the computer, and started organizing my writing. I sent out a dozen manuscripts and went on to win the honor award in Lee & Low’s New Voices contest. I submitted to MFA programs and got accepted at Hollins University. I applied to all kinds of jobs and was offered a three-year gig at Mount Holyoke College. I was desperate—I needed to feel like I could control something in my life, so I cast a wide net. And the same is happening right now. Despite the depressing outcome of the election, I’m having a really good week. On Tuesday I actually woke up thinking about The Return and what it might look like if I changed the trim size and made a hybrid novel/graphic novel; today I got some recommendations and reached out to several Black women illustrators to get a few quotes. On Wednesday, after talking to the editor who’s interested in Dragons in Bag, we accepted her (improved) offer; the book won’t be out until 2018, which is frustrating, but that lit a fire under me and I got back to work on The Ghosts in the Castle. I reached out to an illustrator in England and if she’s available, I should be able to publish that City Kids book in time for the holidays. Illustrator friend Greg Christie urged me to contact a professor he knew at Georgia State University; she has invited me to present for her colleagues while I’m in Atlanta for NCTE next week, and I might go back next fall to give a talk on diversity and social justice. On Thursday I walked all over Brooklyn putting together a gift for a friend who hasn’t yet taken time to celebrate a major achievement in her life. I also got some chocolates for my agent since she’s made two sales in six months (and here I was thinking she might want to cut me loose). On Monday I sent out digital copies of Milo’s Museum and got some wonderful responses. Today the printed proofs arrived and despite a few qualms, I think I’m going to hit PUBLISH so the book is available to everyone.

I talked to two different neighbors today about the election; I think the shock and grief are starting to dissipate. We’re ready to act. We’re not going to surrender. This photo from a recent NY Times article gives me hope–it was taken by Elaine He at last year’s Brooklyn Museum Children’s Book Fair. If I remember correctly, this boy’s grandmother brought him by my table twice. Many White parents steer their kids past my table (a way of saying without saying, “Those books aren’t for you”), but this woman encouraged her grandson to take a look and they ultimately bought both City Kids books. I wish I had The Ghosts in the Castle to share with young readers at tomorrow’s book fair but at least I can tell kids it’s on its way…

I’ve definitely had moments of rage and disgust this week, but there’s no time for despair. Our kids are counting on us to fix this…

share love

I made myself go for a run this morning. My eyes didn’t quite want to open and they still feel a bit swollen even though I haven’t yet shed any tears. I got to the park and didn’t want to run but made myself keep going. We need to grieve but we can’t despair; our kids need us to continue working toward a different future. I look at the Indigenous people resisting the pipeline in North Dakota and I know that we’re going to be okay. It hurts but we will heal, we will survive, we will endure even this…

Yesterday was the “book birthday” of Melena’s Jubilee. I certainly didn’t feel like celebrating amidst the election insanity, but I know I will find many moments to focus on the message in that book: we can always start over. What’s been broken can be repaired. We can change our habits and move forward together along a new path.

This is a good time to read with your kids. Hold them close and make sure they feel safe even though the world can be a scary place sometimes…