Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 41

stamina

I learned something about myself last week. After five full days presenting in AR, an unexpected overnight flight delay, and a longer than normal teaching day on Saturday, I came home and crashed on the couch. On Sunday I woke up and realized that I didn’t get a single migraine while I was away, despite the fact that I was socializing more than usual AND having cake every single day. Since quitting my job last year, I’ve averaged just one migraine per month and I attribute that to the fact that I protect my introvert self. I generally try to space my events so that I can fit in a day or two of silence and solitude. I don’t sign up for things that are too taxing, but avoidance has its drawbacks. I’m sure I’ve missed out on key opportunities because I was trying to preserve my “dream time.” And that was the lesson I learned last week—I had a great time in AR and met so many wonderful people; I made important connections and pushed myself to go on when I really wanted to run away and hide. And I did it! I fulfilled my obligations and even enjoyed being out of my comfort zone at times. But I didn’t write. At all. Not on Facebook, not here in the blog. I came home from London with 3000 words of a new novel, but I haven’t written a word since—and don’t ask me about the sequel to Wish. I’ve been home almost a week and I still haven’t got back into my writing routine, and THAT is the price I pay for living a “normal” life. I tell people that I don’t have the stamina to teach full-time like my parents did but the truth is, I simply don’t want to pay that price. I don’t want to surrender the dreamworld that feeds my writing life, and that dreamworld can’t be sustained when I’m out in the real world all the time. Yesterday I spent close to five hours on the subway and instead of grading my students’ homework I immersed myself in Sorcerer to the Crown. A very earnest boy in Conway, AR asked me how I keep coming up with ideas because he found he ran out of ideas before finishing a story. I told him that my imagination was like a sponge that needed to be soaked and wrung dry over and over again. I’m not fond of inscribing books, but I often write: “Feed your imagination, read every day.” I would run out of ideas if I didn’t walk in the garden and run in the park and head up to the Schomburg to see afrofuturistic art. I’m going to try to finish reading this novel in the next couple of days, and then I’m going to go see The Last Witch Hunter with a friend who loves Vin Diesel. I’m going to fill myself with images and ideas (and probably some scones now that it’s cold enough for tea), and then hopefully I’ll sit down and start to write…

Let the Faithful Come

It’s here! Let the Faithful Come is a special book for the holiday season. Learn more here or check out my latest newsletter. A Spanish-English edition should be ready by Thanksgiving…

Tiny Pretty Things

When I finished reading Tiny Pretty Things last summer, I had some questions for Dhonielle Clayton and Sona Charaipotra . They are VERY busy women, but they kindly agreed to take time out of their schedules to answer three pressing questions for me—read on!

ME: I have to say, I was never really interested in ballet until I read your novel! Its release coincided with the ABT’s appointment of Misty Copeland and Stella Abrera as principal dancers, and this happened around the same time that another Black woman athlete (Serena Williams) was being publicly criticized for not being “feminine enough.” Can you talk about your intent in making two of the three lead characters teenage girls of color? Misty has been told she’s “too athletic” but your characters seem to “fit in” rather that pushing against the mold. Did you want your characters of color to disrupt traditional ballet messages and/or images of femininity?


D&S: We were definitely very deliberate in making two of the three protagonists in TINY PRETTY THINGS people of color. That’s CAKE Literary’s mission: to make delicious page turners with a deep, organic layer of diversity to them. The idea is that the diversity is not the plot, but definitely affects the plot. In the world of pre-professional ballet — a world Dhonielle witnessed firsthand while teaching at a ballet conservatory — that diversity already exists, and we decided to stay true to the diversity that really does exist and exalt it. (Rather than say, forcing an Indian girl into that picture because that is Sona’s own background.) There are dancers of color competing at this level, and the experience is certainly different and sometimes difficult for them. We decided to reflect on the racism and microaggressions these dancers of color experience in this world, and to let their backgrounds permeate their experience and worldview. Regarding the idea of a dancer of African-American descent being “too athletic,” that is quietly explored in TPT as well — as Gigi faces comments about her thighs and body type, etc., within the judgments made against her (and internalizes some of these judgments herself). Then there’s the idea that she’s the “flavor of the month” for Mr. K, the creative director, but also that she doesn’t fit the traditional Ballet Blanc ideal. And the idea that Asian dancers are often cast to the side is definitely something June’s experience comments on — she’s neither here nor there, racially, emotionally, casting-wise, so she’s a bit untethered. Both her fellow students and the instructors at the conservatory don’t know quite which box to put her in.

There is this idea of the Ballet Blanc that remains the default to this day. Hopefully, with strides made by dancers like Misty Copeland, Stella Abrera and Hee Seo, this will begin to shift. In this, we’re hoping that TPT reflects a reality, and further propels/normalizes that shift.


ME: I was really interested in the way you used Henri to menace Bette, though I was troubled at times by his behavior. Were you worried about making him seem like a sexual predator or were his actions “justified” by Bette’s abuse of Cassie? You made sex complicated in this novel; are teen readers ready for that level of complexity?

D&S: Henri’s approach to his revenge on Bette is meant to be troubling. His menace is practiced to the point of being almost casual, and that’s meant to disturb both Bette and the reader. I definitely don’t personally see his actions as justified in any way, and the particular scenes you reference are meant to be intimidating and scary. Yes, Bette’s done some very horrifying things herself, but Henri’s retaliation isn’t justified by it — and I think the power dynamic, in what he knows, and in his sheer strength, is meant to worry the reader. He holds something over her, so she’s afraid to speak out, and she also ponders her own power in this situation. This is reflected in her attempts to use that power in handling her problems with Mr. K. She thinks she knows what she’s doing, but she really has no clue, and I think that’s very teen of her. I think the sad reality is that many teen readers probably understand too well the dynamics at play here, how messed up they are, how she is a victim while also being a villain (in her bullying). It’s meant to make you feel conflicted and to make you think, since female bodies are so much front and center in this world — objects to be commented on, owned and manipulated on so many levels.

ME: Many Black artists have argued that their goal is to represent the full spectrum of Black humanity without worrying about confirming stereotypes or offering only “positive” representations of the race. With your three main characters, were you consciously exploiting or working against stereotypes? Why do we need representations of “mean girls” who aren’t only white? 

D&S: We were quite deliberate in this as well — we didn’t want to represent the “angry black girl” or the “demure Asian girl,” so we began with turning those tropes around. People frequently say June is probably the most messed up of the characters in the book — but let’s be real, we were pretty equal opportunity on that front. We wanted her to be first and foremost an interesting, complex character — someone you maybe love to hate, but someone you also feel for. Yes, she’s Asian, and so much of her emotional deficit comes from her in-between space, the racism she faces, the lack of information about who she is, the remove she often feels from the culture she’s meant to be a part of. So race informs her, certainly. But so too does experience. Gigi is meant to represent an upper middle class African-American girl who’s had a somewhat privileged, sheltered experience till now — someone we don’t see all that often in teen fiction, but who certainly exists.

Thanks, ladies! You can learn more about Dhonielle, Sona, and CAKE Literary here, and look for the sequel Shiny Broken Pieces next summer…

highlight

I haven’t slept well this past week, which means I haven’t had energy to blog by the time I reach the hotel at the end of each day. But today was the Arkansas Curriculum Conference and something wonderful happened that I don’t want to forget:

1. The teacher who won a grant to buy copies of Ship of Souls for the boys in detention also won an award! During her acceptance speech, Jill explained how the boys’ interest in the book made the project blossom until my novel was being used across the curriculum—the boys were fully engaged, they learned about archaeology, they even made their own dust jackets for the book (which were amazing!), and fought over who would get to read The Deep next. Apparently they aren’t always attentive, but I had their undivided attention when I visited the detention center on Sunday. I’ve been saying for the past year that I feel I’m planting seeds. There’s really no way to know what kind of impact an author visit might have, but it was so gratifying to hear Jill talk about the boys and to know that Ship of Souls was, for at least some of them, the first book they finished reading. Yesterday I heard from a friend who teaches at Rikers Island; I’m hoping I can visit her class as well.

I have to be up at 4am to catch my rescheduled flight so the rest of the recap will have to wait. Dr. Dixie Keyes, outgoing president of ACTELA, worked so hard to make this trip happen and I can’t thank her enough. I met so many wonderful students and educators over the past five days! My keynote wasn’t great—a bit to academicky—but the rest of my sixteen workshops went well, I think, and it’s always wonderful to see kids who are excited about my books. I told everyone about Write Now! Make Books and hope lots of budding writers will publish their own books before long.

Ok, it’s just past 8pm but it’s time for bed. Still don’t have my marking done—grades were due last weekend—but I have a 9-hour journey tomorrow so maybe I’ll blog and grade along the way…

nite

z

leave the door open

Whenever I come back from a trip abroad, I pin the leftover currency to my bulletin board. In a corner of my bookshelf I stack the coins and stash any transit passes that I might use again down the road. When I left for London last weekend, I had over 30 GBP in my wallet—money that was leftover from my 2013 birthday/research trip to Oxford. I had an Oyster card, too, which I hadn’t used since spending Xmas in London in 2012. Turns out it had 15 GBP on it and that got me around the city—to the Black Cultural Archives in Brixton, and back to the hotel after having high tea at Brown’s Hotel with my friend Mary. I walked a lot while I was in London and I spent a lot of time in the hotel. I came home with over 3000 words written on the new novel and think I can finish it before the end of this year. Everything in London felt easy and there was more than one moment when I realized I was happy! That sounds strange, but I’m so accustomed to being busy—and measuring my productivity—that I don’t always ask myself if I’m happy. A friend is having surgery next week and it’s a procedure that will close one of many doors in her life. We talked tonight about happiness and the importance of knowing what makes you happy; when the nightly news is grim and chronic health issues consume much of your energy, that’s the moment you need to make sure that there’s joy in your life. I’m heading out of town soon—again—and want to make sure that I try to enjoy myself while I’m away. I’ll be working but I’ll also be in a new place, meeting lots of new people. I love being alone, strolling through gardens, daydreaming about ghosts and castles. But if I want to find some joy in every day, then I have to let happiness happen when I may not expect it to appear. I still have money on my Oyster card and I came home with a twenty pound note. I don’t know when I’ll get back to London but it’s good to know the door will still be open…

being me abroad

Got a slow start this morning, but the fog is lifting and I’m heading back to the Victoria & Albert Museum before meeting a friend for tea at 4pm. With one day left in London, I’m realizing that I might have been too ambitious when composing my To Do list. I spent a magical morning in Windsor yesterday and then connected with an online friend who fights for diversity here in the UK. I’ve written 1500 words on the new City Kids book—The Ghost in the Castle—and I’ve been lugging my laptop around so I can stop and write as needed. Had no sugar on Sunday but overdid it yesterday, which might be why I woke with a headache. Will indulge myself at tea and then try to go sugar-free tomorrow. I saw Hobnobs on sale at the grocery story, though, so may stock up for the future. I’d rather work on the story than blog so will just say that my search for information about Prince Alemayehu led me to two seniors whose enthusiasm and kindness made my day (and made me miss my grandparents terribly). One steward at St. George’s Chapel, Shelagh, directed me to the plaque commemorating the prince’s life; she also told me that Haile Selassie I was named a Knight of the Garter, and another steward (John) helped me locate his plaque, which was no easy task. I’ve been using this article to guide my research, and was surprised when Shelagh told me the child’s mother was brought to England with him but died in transit. He was still a captive as far as I’m concerned, but he might have at least had the comfort of a parent to help him adjust to life in England. I think her dress is on display at the V&A so that’s where I’m heading now. I’m reading At Her Majesty’s Request: an African Princess in Victorian England, and plan to introduce Sarah Forbes Bonetta into my story; she seems to have assimilated more easily and traveled between the two continents during her lifetime. Did she know the prince? Would they have been friends or would she have seen him as a rival for the Queen’s favor? I had a lovely birthday and realize that a slow-paced trip is best for me—when I was in Dakar two summers ago I did the same thing: holed up in the hotel, ate in my room, and ventured out once or twice a day to absorb information to use in my book. BBC News was the only English-language channel I could get and so I kept that on as I wrote. Here in London I’m watching Time Team and all the other murder mystery shows that I love. I’m in a bubble with my characters, which include two sisters who have contrary perspectives on being Black and British. I might be able to finish this book by the end of November. And no, I haven’t finished the sequel to Wish but that will happen, too. It will—I promise!

tall trees

I spent the first half of this week in Berkeley, CA but this morning when asked why I’d gone out west (business or pleasure?) I couldn’t find words to describe my trip. With some friends, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. When you get together again, the words just flow and that’s how it is whenever I see Laura Atkins. She graciously opened her home to me and we spent Monday just catching up. Her daughter baked me an amazing birthday cake and I plucked off all the sweet tarts over the course of my three-day stay. Laura coordinated a school visit for me and so I gave two talks at Jefferson Elementary School on Tuesday morning. I was thrilled to share Maya Gonzalez and Matthew Smith’s new initiative through Reflection Press: Write Now! Make Books. It’s got everything kids (and grownups) need to learn how to turn their story ideas into a book—check it out! After my school visit we convened at Janine’s lovely home in the Oakland foothills and set our agenda for that evening’s kid lit mixer. It was a wonderful gathering and an important conversation between radical kid lit creators, librarians, and literacy activists (more on that later). I’ve got jet lag and need to turn in so I can get to tomorrow’s morning school visit on time, but I wanted to at least try to explain why I went to California this week. Next week it’s London (for pleasure) and the week after that I’ll be in Arkansas (for business), but trips often blur that line. I enjoy doing research for my book projects and I love meeting students and educators wherever I go. I went to CA because my group of rad kid lit creators agreed that we needed some face time; we have monthly video conferences and we “see” each other online, but it’s not the same as being in the same room as we laugh, and debate, and explore our vision for the future of children’s literature. We shared our latest projects, and we ate delicious food, and we followed a narrow path up a steep hill that was lined with towering redwood trees. I once heard a fellow expat say, “In Canada, they trim the tallest trees.” No one is encouraged to reach for the sky because standing out, rising above your peers is frowned upon. And maybe that kind of individualism isn’t good for the community, but when you’re small small or young or simply uncertain, seeing the unlimited potential of those around you is necessary. The more my friends achieve, the more I feel I’m able to try—my daring and theirs are bound together. You can tell just from the looks on our faces how much it meant to be together for three days—and we’re already planning the next retreat! Time for bed—I’ll try to write about the mixer tomorrow…

Janine used a timer to capture this great photo in her backyard. Clockwise: me, Matthew Smith, Sky, Maya Gonzalez, Laura Atkins, & Janine Macbeth.

Intersectionalty & positionality

I woke at 4am this morning knowing I had to be up soon to catch my 7am train to Baltimore. This cold seemed to be over—I made it through yesterday without sneezing once—but today I woke with an impossible headache and by the time my meds kicked in, I’d missed my train. I sent my presentation to the Kidlitcon coordinators and my co-panelist Mary Fan read my remarks for me. I figured I’d post my remarks here and when the video is posted, I’ll share that, too, so you can hear what the other panelists had to say. Not the way I thought this day would go…

Intersectionality: The Next Step in Diverse Books

Good morning! My name is Zetta Elliott and I will be moderating the next panel. I’ll start with brief introductions and then I’ll take a moment to define some key terms.

Mary Fan is a sci-fi/fantasy author, first-generation American, lifelong nerd, advocate for women in tech, and nobody’s Asian trophy wife.

Dynamic twin bloggers and debut authors: Guinevere and Libertad Thomas of Twinja Book Reviews create and critique diverse speculative fiction for teens; their debut novel is The Mark of Noba.

And I’m a middle-aged author, educator, scholar, immigrant, self-publisher, and fierce Black feminist advocate for greater diversity AND equity in kid lit.

We live in an either/or world that prefers to put people into simple, separate boxes. But identity is fluid, not fixed and books can help to reveal just how rich and complex our identities really are.

Source: Canadian Research Institute for the Advancement of Women

Understanding intersectionality begins by examining one’s own identity. Privilege has enabled many in the dominant group(s) to avoid considering the multiple ways in which individuals can experience—and perpetuate—oppression. At the same time, the preference for “single-issue books” can limit an author’s ability to explore/expose the various, overlapping systems that create the unfair advantages and disadvantages that shape our lives.

This graphic from the Canadian Research Institute for the Advancement of Women shows how each individual exists at the intersection of multiple aspects of identity. The opportunities available to us in this society can be enhanced and/or limited by one or multiple aspects of our identities. The experience of advantage or disadvantage can change from moment to moment—CONTEXT COUNTS.

I found this great definition of intersectionality on the site Geek Feminism Wiki:

Intersectionality is a concept often used in critical theories to describe the ways in which oppressive institutions (racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, xenophobia, classism, etc.) are interconnected and cannot be examined separately from one another. The concept first came from legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989 and is largely used in critical theories, especially Feminist theory, when discussing systematic oppression. When possible, credit Kimberlé Crenshaw for coining the term “intersectionality” and bringing the concept to wider attention.

Intersectionality has become more widely known and used in recent years, but many people fail to acknowledge the critical role played by Black feminists like Sojourner Truth (who asked “Ain’t I a woman?” back in 1851), Audre Lorde, and legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw who coined the term in a seminal 1989 essay, “Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics.”

Image credit: Time Out London

You may have heard the term intersectionality used quite frequently as of late as white feminists reveal that the blindspots they had over a century ago persist to this day. Case in point: the publicity campaign for the forthcoming film Suffragette. The all-white cast posed in t-shirts bearing a quote first made my Emmeline Pankhurst in 1903—it was offensive then, and it’s offensive today. Black women actually WERE slaves, and rebellion isn’t merely a choice made by the righteous. The film focuses exclusively on white women in England even though women around the world also fought for the right to vote—and didn’t get it until long after their white “sisters” did.

When you’re driving, you can’t simply rely upon your car’s rear-view or side-view mirrors to keep you and others safe on the road. You have to look over your shoulder before you change lanes. One way to correct your blindspots when it comes to identity is to always situate yourself in relation to a text—state your particular position so that it’s clear and not allowed to operate invisibly as neutrality.

When you’re reading or reviewing a book, it’s important to publicly locate yourself—state your position because aspects of your identity will impact the way you engage with the text. There’s no such thing as an “average” or “objective” reader (or writer). I found this definition of positionality useful:

“By positionality we mean…that gender, race, class and other aspects of our identities are markers of relational positions rather than essential qualities. Knowledge is valid when it includes an acknowledgment of the knower’s specific position in any context, because changing contextual and relational factors are crucial for defining identities and our knowledge in any given situation.”

In our society, there is a default setting that privileges certain people. If I say, “Look at that doctor!” the default setting teaches us to expect a white, straight, middle- to upper middle-class man, probably middle-aged or older, wearing a white lab coat. If I say, “Look at that woman doctor!” the default has been manually adjusted in terms of gender, but all the other “settings” remain the same.

We ALL have blindspots. Did you catch mine? A while back (during the highly publicized transition of Caitlyn Jenner) I offended a dear friend by posting an article on Facebook that said some reactionary things about transwomen. When she questioned my decision to post it, I responded defensively, insisting “A lot of women are feeling anxious right now.” I should have said, “A lot of cis-gender women are feeling anxious right now” because that’s the position I was speaking from and it acknowledges the perspective of transwomen (which might be different).

Please read this blog. Every single post. Here’s how contributor Allie Jane Bruce came to an understanding of intersectionality by positioning herself in relation to others:

Over the next few weeks–months–years, I gradually became aware of a world of exemptions, of -isms I’ve never had to deal with. I am a woman, yes. I am also White, heterosexual, cisgender, and not disabled. I am a documented citizen, I am housed, I am educated. None of these things change the fact that as a woman, I experience sexism (as it manifests against white women). But similarly, my woman-ness doesn’t alter the truth that I belong to the dominant group along these and many other identifiers.

I decided this past year to stop sending my books out for review. Only 2% of published children’s book authors in the US are Black, and after struggling for over a decade to sell my many manuscripts, I finally decided to self-publish. I was thrilled when the Reading While White blog appeared; I consider many of the contributors friends and allies, and I know that white women will NEVER listen to me the same way they will listen to another white woman.

I operate in fields that are dominated by white women—whether I’m dealing with a school, a library, a publisher, or a nonprofit, I will likely have to deal with a white woman gatekeeper who isn’t from my community, doesn’t know much about my culture, and yet has a lot more power than me. The same is true when it comes to reviewers. It’s not enough just to read diverse books. Marginalized writers need members of the dominant group(s) to acknowledge their advantages and the role their GROUP has played in creating and maintaining disparities. Do start with the woman in the mirror—but then join those who are committed to equity and not only diversity.

 

 

Independent Sources

Dayshaun’s Gift blends history, magic, and social commentary.

blindspot

I don’t get many reviews of my self-published books and for the most part, I’m okay with that. I’m writing primarily for the kids in my community, so increasingly it doesn’t seem worth my while to risk a negative or bland review from someone outside of that community. Charlotte, who blogs at Charlotte’s Library, is one of the few reviewers I send my books to because 1) she’s open to self-published fantasy fiction for kids, and 2) she situates herself in relation to the book. Charlotte’s open about her personal interests and experiences—in her review of Dayshaun’s Gift she talks about her love of gardening and how her own son reacts when asked to do something uninteresting. Charlotte focuses on middle grade speculative fiction and so she can place any new book within the tradition and she understands the conventions that define speculative genres. But what happens when you’re writing against convention? Charlotte rightly points out that different readers approach books with different expectations:

It’s not one for every kid though–there is little tension, and no sense of danger to Dayshaun. He has a remarkably stress-free time travel experience, though he is clearly aware of the horrible stress endured by the refugees. This lack of urgency to the plot makes it, I think, one perhaps better suited to peaceful reading out loud to a seven or eight year old than one to give a reluctant reader who demands excitement (though of course the basic story of time travel offers some excitement in its own right!).  And reading it outloud gives kids a chance to hear about race riots in the past with a grownup who can clarify and comfort, if needed. Kids growing up in Brooklyn will especially appreciate this new look at their own place, but Dayshaun is a relatable protagonist for any kid forced to spend Saturday away from their electronic devices.

I’m very conscious of the security I provide for Black bodies when I’m writing for kids. A child gets slashed with a broken bottle in The Phoenix on Barkley Street, but I wrote that story back in 2001 and probably wouldn’t include that kind of violence today. There’s a passage in Dayshaun’s Gift where the protagonist asks himself whether he would surrender to a mob trying to force him out of his home or if he would stand his ground. And for the first couple of drafts I just could not write “stand my ground.” I came up with all kinds of alternatives because I didn’t want to invoke the Florida law that enabled George Zimmerman to be acquitted of the murder of Trayvon Martin. Would a child even understand that reference? Probably not. Will my young readers crave more action? Possibly. But when Black children are being shot dead in the street day after day, I wasn’t going to use physical danger to heighten the drama of the narrative. I wanted to provide an alternative “escape”—a book that brings kids close to the fire without any risk of getting burned.

I’m thinking about my upcoming intersectionality panel for Kidlitcon this Saturday; I want to talk about white women’s blindspots and the invisibility of Black women (slide #1 will be Meryl Streep in her “I’d rather be a rebel than a slave” t-shirt), but I also want to celebrate the white female allies who are actively trying to get it right. Angie Manfredi wrote a powerful post for the new blog Reading While White in which she describes a conference presentation where half the white women in attendance simply walked out when she started talking about racism in her field of library science. It means a lot to have this testimony because when women of color tackle the same subject, we get a similar response. I don’t have access to the same platforms, but I know that when I write (over and over again) about white supremacy in the kid lit community, many white women shut down. It’s such a simple concept: diverse readers bring different expectations to the books they read. When blogger, scholar, and friend Debbie Reese started reading Dayshaun’s Gift, she tweeted that she was marking several passages in the book, and her takeaway was revealed in this subsequent tweet:

Debbie, a Nambe Pueblo Indian woman, has devoted her career to analyzing children’s literature by and about American Indians, so it doesn’t surprise me that she would recognize my attempt to expose an important historical event in the long history of domestic terrorism in the US. Last week I taped a segment of Independent Sources for CUNY TV, which will air tonight at 8:30pm. Near the end I had a chance to talk about my determination to teach kids that terrorism did not start with 9/11 and is not an “invention” of Muslim extremists. Domestic terrorism has been a problem in the US for hundreds of years, and the perpetrators overwhelmingly have been white men. The victims? Primarily people of color and Native Nations. But children today might look at the news coverage of Ferguson or Baltimore and think “race riots” are exclusive to Black people. When I sent the book to a Black male bookseller in Arkansas, he responded by thanking me for giving him a way to talk about the Black Lives Matter movement with his nephew. My next step is getting Dayshaun’s Gift into the hands of food justice activists; Dayshaun’s mother is so invested in gardening largely because her family lives in a food desert so growing food isn’t a hobby but a necessity. African Americans have long debated the value of “protest art,” and I realize that fiction can suffer when it’s burdened with too many social messages. For me, community-based publishing prioritizes local “urgencies” over broad commercial appeal. I don’t want to put kids to sleep, but I do want to educate as I entertain. This Friday I’ll be meeting with the AP of The Weeksville School; I’m looking forward to hearing her impressions of Dayshaun’s Gift since the fictional Dayshaun attends her actual school!

My cold is progressing and despite craving pizza, I just had a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I think I’ll take a short walk through the garden before napping and getting back to this neverending novel…