Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 7

Week One

I promised myself I wouldn’t measure my productivity while I’m away. Yesterday I pulled the hermit card and I’m pushing back on the guilt I often feel when I’m traveling—“Don’t stay in! Make the most of the time you have! Do something worth photographing so you can share it on Instagram!” But if I really do want an ordinary life, then I need to be who I am, which is an introvert and homebody. I watched a ten-part Australian drama yesterday, taking two short breaks to venture out into the world. I’m still wearing my pedometer and counting my daily 10K steps, but I have no scale to weigh myself on and just set my jeans aside when they felt too snug. The goal is to write a poem a day; so far they’re mostly haikus, which still counts as far as I’m concerned. Haikus are like kernels, nuggets of truth and small observations that can be mined more fully later on. I went back to Pollok House on Tuesday and wrote in the cafe for a while before heading to the garden; a park employee helped me track down the carpenter Neil who built the ship in the garden (the working title of my novel). It wasn’t his idea but he designed and built it; the unusual planter is meant to acknowledge the Maxwells’ involvement in trans-Atlantic trade. I didn’t tell him that it made me think of a slave ship. If people are open and willing to share their knowledge with me, then I give the bare minimum in exchange: I’m doing research for a book for young readers. I realized last night that if I want to include more graphic content about the experiences of the enslaved, I’ll have to age my characters up; that likely means changing the format of the novel. This morning on BBC Scotland the radio host interviewed someone about reluctant readers and how many teenage boys see reading as a form of punishment. The two books I’ve seen on slavery and Scotland are both graphic novels—a good strategy to reach kids who might otherwise be uninterested in the topic. I wonder if a verse novel might appeal to teens more than traditional prose—or a play (for stage or radio). I met a couple of men on my last two trips to Scotland; they both focus on Scotland’s buried history and both have been really generous with their resources. Through Nelson (whose mother is from St. Kitt’s) I’ve lined up a school visit here in Glasgow, and Stephen has kindly offered to share his source documents on Frederick. I’m thankful for you readers, too, who reached out with suggestions and offers of help. After last week’s blog post, my cousin Beverley in Toronto let me know that there is a former plantation in Nevis called Colhouns—a little digging online revealed that it was owned by Fanny’s brother. It was her dowry and inheritance that added to Sir James Maxwell’s wealth and the Scottish National Trust’s report suggests that money was used to improve Pollok House and the surrounding grounds. I’ve found conflicting accounts—were they married in St. Kitts or in Glasgow? Was she living there or here when they met?—but those details aren’t essential to my projects. Yet. Working on three books at once is a little confusing but ultimately, I just trust that everything I discover can be used somewhere, somehow. My historian friend Stephen confirmed that this listing I found online is probably the manor house in which young Frederick was meant to serve as a page boy. It’s way up in the Highlands, northeast of Inverness. I searched for Lady Spynie of Brodie House and didn’t find much but Stephen found more information by researching her husband (of course), a member of parliament. I think White women are central to the stories I want to tell…it’s their whims and wishes that often destroy or at least shape the lives of Black people in the 18th and 19th centuries. And their wealth keeps the British Empire expanding as second sons who will never inherit estates in the UK go abroad to find their fortune. I caught the tail end of Who Do You Think You Are, the UK version of Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates; the guest was actor Olivia Coleman and she was in India after discovering that her ancestor worked for the East India Company around 1800 and had a child with a local woman before he passed away there. The child was sent for by her English grandmother, inherited a large sum from her great-aunt, and then returned to India as a wealthy young mixed-race woman and married twice (British officers, I believe). Another book on slavery and the Highlands highlights the number of mixed-race children that were sent from the Caribbean or India to be educated in the UK; they also married White men and assimilated into Scottish society. I still remember being struck by Thackeray’s racist remarks in Vanity Fair about “woolly-headed mulattresses” upending London society with their wealth and scandalous origins (his own half-sister was born to an Indian mother). Yesterday was International Women’s Day and so after my run I went over to the Glasgow Women’s Library. I got a warm welcome and was invited to join an art workshop upstairs; I was given a tour and got to see Scottish Black feminist poet Jackie Kay’s beautiful words on the archive walls (listen to her read those commissioned poems here). Today I’m going to see a matinee from the Glasgow Film Festival. On Saturday I head over to Amsterdam to hang out with my Chicago friend Elisa and then next Wednesday I’m doing a three-day trip up to the Isle of Skye. They’ve had cold temps and lots of snow up north so I probably need to do a little shopping before I go. The school visit will take place right before I leave on the 22nd so I’ll head home with plenty of material, I think. My inbox has been pretty full the past week…not looking forward to going back to “the grind,” though May won’t be as busy as April and I’m trying to keep the fall open. My one woman friend here came down with COVID so I won’t get to see her tomorrow. Think I might go back to the Women’s Library and write for a while, take some of the books I brought since their entire collection is sustained through donations. Or I could find another series and spend hours watching TV. Or I could do both—or neither. It’s nice to have options…

an ordinary life

This is my third day in Glasgow and I’ve had more sunshine on this visit than either of last year’s trips, I think. Got up late and went for a run in the Necropolis this morning; came home, cleaned up, and went grocery shopping. Passed GOMA along the way and thought about popping in to see the new exhibit but I spent yesterday at Pollok House and need a break today. I’m about to set a research agenda so I make the most of my three weeks but really, what I want is to live an ordinary life here. I lived in NYC for two decades and people always assume New Yorkers live exciting lives, but most of the time we’re doing laundry and commuting to work. For tourists it’s completely different—they pack in as much as they can and feel pressured to have fun every minute they’re in town. I don’t live like that when I’m at home and I don’t aspire to that when I’m on vacation. This isn’t a holiday; it’s a research trip but it’s also a way to test myself in the city. Can I build a routine like the one I have in Chicago? So far, the answer is YES. But should that be the goal? Escape to the Country just ended; all the UK shows I follow back home are airing in real time here in Glasgow. I just turned off the TV but now I’m catching up on yesterday’s episode of PBS Newshour. Maybe I should let go instead of trying to have a hybrid life and try being fully present.

I’m almost ready to write. Yesterday’s trip to Pollok House was more productive than expected. The website said the tours were fully booked but when I arrived just before noon, a tour was about to begin and I was the only one. My docent, Angus, was very helpful and the volunteer I met in the library pointed out the only work of fiction in the 7500-book collection—a collection of ghost stories! So that’s going in the book and the fairy garden was more of a hobbit village (Smaug included!) but on the way there I came across a ship…it’s a planter made from a bathtub, I think, but made me think of a slave ship so that’s going in the novel, too. I think I’ve got my plot worked out. I just need to develop my main character and to do that, I need to meet some local kids. Emailed an elementary school before I left Chicago; the headmistress hasn’t replied but I might just drop some of my books off on Monday. I saw a group of Black boys getting off the train yesterday but didn’t think it was appropriate to interrogate them. When I visited Edinburgh back in 2018, I presented at St. Augustine middle school and remember one boy from Ghana who proudly showed off his cowrie-shell bracelet. I’m basing my main character on that kid. There was a diverse group of students on a class trip yesterday—that’s the premise for my novel. Pollok House itself was fairly small and there was extensive water damage to the first-floor walls, which was strangely satisfying. I’m looking for ugliness, in a way. There’s a kind of glamour over these stately homes but I can’t fall under that spell. So many Black bodies were sacrificed for the paintings and vases and antiques that fill these mansions. Wrote about that last night; trying to write at least one poem per day. Daily poems are like my Instagram posts—they mostly document my days. I won’t necessarily remember how I’m thinking or feeling now by the time I get back to Chicago. This donation box was disturbing. I think the school kids focus on what it was like “below stairs” and they get to see the butler’s and housekeeper’s quarters in the basement. But choosing your own servant? And voting by donating spare change? Odd, to say the least…but these are the kind of contradictions that need to be exposed. My kid is being bullied by Gavin, a racist loner who gets sent back in time to one of the plantations owned by the Maxwell family. There was one plaque in the house that mentioned the wealth derived from plantations in Jamaica but no mention of St. Kitts-Nevis. So I need to probe that further; it could be that Maxwell got his SKN plantations (and compensation after Emancipation) through marriage to Miss Colhoun. Her father, a Scot, was a notorious slave trader and that particular Maxwell was working as an overseer so they got quite a surprise when 3 heirs died in a short span of time, turning that overseer into a very wealthy baronet. All the histories are about men but I think women will be central to my story. Dig, dig, dig…I’ve got work to do! But right now it’s time for a nap…

Reading Rock Stars

I did my first in-person school visit since Covid began! The Texas Book Festival is in the fall but they do events throughout the year to keep kids excited about books. Over the holidays I signed 250 book plates and this past week I got to meet the third- and fourth-grade kids who received a copy of THE WITCH’S APPRENTICE (now out in paperback!) through the Reading Rock Stars program. Harris Academy has a spirit team and they warmed the group up with a pro-literacy cheer…then we got started and when I wrapped up an hour later, one of the sorors who volunteer at the school came up to give me a hug (she was Canadian!) The librarian, Ms. Hutchins, had a table covered in treats and I managed to get a direct flight back to Chicago after a two-hour delay. I worked in the hotel the night before and met my deadline for Chicago Magazine. I missed my puppetry class but turns out I wasn’t the only one…our instructor gave us an extension and my friend Tanya gave me some great tips when we zoomed on Friday. Then I went for an outdoor run for the first time in almost a month and this morning I went to the farmers market in my neighborhood—something I haven’t done since last summer. Sometimes I think my home is too cozy because it’s a bit too easy to hibernate…but the sun’s been out all week and the earth is spongy, which makes me feel like spring will be here soon. I self-published PERENNIAL yesterday and I’m offering a bundle of my 4 poetry books over on Instagram and Facebook; just leave a comment before the end of Valentine’s Day.

The link to sign up for my newsletter is broken—sorry about that! updating my website is near the top of my To Do list—but a new one went out today. You can read it here. With just one school visit and one panel this week, I should have plenty of time to focus on my puppetry project. I think I’m going to try making a book with detachable 2D paper puppets…the operative word being “try.” Lol. Our final performance got pushed back a week, which means I’ll be in Scotland. Scotland! So ready to leave the rat race behind, though I’ve only got myself to blame for all these BHM events. I took a couple of social media apps off my phone yesterday and will try to unplug while I’m away. My phone doesn’t work over there so it shouldn’t be too hard…

here’s…Chicken!

Before CHICKEN WONDERS… WHY? even went on sale yesterday, there was a bit of buzz thanks to reporter Maranda Whittington at WKRN. I had just finished doing a podcast interview last Thursday when she emailed to see if I would be willing to talk about the inspiration for my new book; you can watch her two-minute report here. Attempts to ban books haven’t stopped in Sumner County and now some folks are even trying to dissolve the library system! I’m donating fifty copies of the new book to the communities that rallied to defend A PLACE INSIDE OF ME and hope they’ll be successful in defeating future book bans. I had a chance to read aloud some of CHICKEN on Reading to the 246, a Sunday evening podcast hosted by an educator in Barbados. Today I met virtually with students in Hamilton, Ontario and then with a local writer who invited me to nominate local shops for his column in Chicago Magazine. Tomorrow I leave for TX, returning Thursday afternoon—which means spending a lot of time in transit for *one hour* with kids in Houston. I’ll probably miss my puppetry class again…but I’m meeting with a puppeteer friend on Friday morning and will try to spend the rest of the day catching up on my project. This past weekend I flew up to Montreal to see the exhibit Seeing Loud: Basquiat and Music. It was -40 degrees! I’m almost ready to self-publish PERENNIAL—just waiting on the final proof. February feels stressful and it’s only the first week of Black History Month; I’ve got four more virtual school visits, three panels, and a poetry workshop on the 28th. But yesterday I booked my three-week trip to Scotland so at least I have something to look forward to in March…

Book 4’s Birthday!

Root beer is Ma’s favorite beverage so it has become a launch tradition to crack open a bottle, but I went out this morning and came up empty…today I’ll be heading up to Evanston to meet with a small group of young writers and later this month I’ll be signing THE ENCHANTED BRIDGE at Booked but otherwise, we’re having a fairly low-key launch. The social media giveaway is over but you can read a fun Q&A at The Nerd Daily and join us on the 21st for a live interview with Ellie at FourOneSixLove. I spent the weekend working on my next poetry collection, Perennial, which means I’ve got three books on the go right now…I meet with a Canadian film company later this week—still hoping to have my dragon tales on screen!—and my puppetry class starts Thursday evening. It was so nice to have a quiet holiday but now it’s time to shake off the silence and solitude! The Chicago Puppet Festival starts soon and I bought tickets to three shows; three friends have a birthday on the 26th and a Brooklyn buddy is visiting this week. Hope I have the social stamina to survive these next few weeks! It’s definitely going to be hectic. I’ll be traveling to TX in early February but everything else will be online. For events that are open to the public, follow me on social media and if you’re having trouble signing up for my newsletter, please email me: info@zettaelliott.com. The dragon series is nearing 400,000 copies sold so thanks to all my readers for your continued support!

Balthazar’s Gift

Christmas is my favorite holiday because the stories behind it are so appealing. I kept my annual tradition and watched Scrooge (1951) on Xmas Eve—after I’d spent a few hours working on “Ousmane’s Dream,” a new picture book story. When I went to see the Neapolitan creche at the Art Institute earlier this month, the caption annoyed me; I didn’t take a photograph of it unfortunately but it was something to the effect of, “European artists started to depict Balthazar as Black around the same time as the trans-Atlantic slave trade took off.” There were free and enslaved Black people living in Europe during the Middle Ages, and all I could think about was Mansa Musa, king of the Malian Empire, whose incredible wealth stunned the medieval world after his pilgrimage to Mecca in 1324. Why would artists base a person of wealth and status—a magus, a king—off a slave? I’ve always been fascinated by Balthazar so decided to write a story about his childhood. Problem is, I want to include Mansa Musa and the university at Timbuktu. How do I write a Christmas story about two events that are over a thousand years apart? Is it possible to write about the nativity without promoting Christian supremacy? I’m a bit stumped about how to end my story, but think I’ve found a way around those two problems. The protagonist is no longer Balthazar; it’s Ousmane, a young student at a madrasa in Timbuktu who’s given a gift of gold when Mansa Musa stops in the city to visit the mosque. The gold coins bring on insomnia and Ousmane’s teacher urges him to seek a cure at Buktu’s well. Timbuktu supposedly got its name from the woman, Buktu, who owned a well (or “tin”) there; the well attracted travelers and the settlement that sprang up around it became an important center of trade: gold from Mali, salt from the Sahara, and slaves from the south. The other character in the story is an enslaved boy named Adu…and right now I’m trying to connect Balthazar’s gift of myrrh to Ousmane’s use of the king’s gold to free Adu. I thought I needed an angel but decided to use Buktu instead—she’s my ghost of Christmas past—and I’m managing the time lapse by having her relate Balthazar’s journey. Adu plays a drum so I’ve got my little drummer boy, and the star of Bethlehem even makes an appearance. Is it a Christmas story? I don’t know. That was my goal but it no longer feels like my priority. I kept seeing images of Mansa Musa from a book I couldn’t recall and a quick online search pulled up the picture book illustrated by Leo and Diane Dillon. I’d love to have illustrations that are just as magical in my book! I parted ways with my agent earlier this month so I’m not really thinking about where this manuscript will go; I could offer it to editors I already know or I could try to self-publish it. Purple is making great progress with Chicken Wonders…Why? but things have stalled with Blue Boy. My author copies of Book #4 arrived last week and January will mostly be about launching that title; I have to make a promotional video this week (ugh) and may have some media opportunities in Canada. I’m renovating the master bathroom at the end of January and heading to Texas for a kid lit event in early February. Everything else will be done online (register for VirtuousCon here !) except for our educator event here in Chicago on 2/21. Right now the plan is to spend March in Scotland…but this week I just want to finish my story and set some goals for the new year. I always find Chani’s prompts useful—maybe they’ll be productive for you, too:What experiences, habits, or patterns from 2022 do you want to let go of?What feelings emerge as you do so?What is one thing you learned over the past year for which you are thankful?

yinzers

Menopause brain was in full effect this weekend! The poor waitress had to follow me outside because I pocketed my copy of the receipt for brunch and then, before leaving, picked up the merchant’s copy as well. When presenting I rambled a lot, and lost my train of thought, and blurted out remarks that didn’t match the moment. When I pulled my hair back on Sunday, I saw a lot more white hairs and figured folks at the restaurant would think I was Noa’s mom, though in this picture we look more like sisters. Brunch on Sunday was the first time we met, though our book came out in the summer of 2020. Hopefully she’ll be invited to future festivals since she’s a Pittsburgh native and one of the few Black woman illustrators working in kid lit today. Kate’s Book Bash was great and Pittsburgh was uncharacteristically sunny after a few showers Saturday morning. I pushed my introvert self to socialize more than I normally would and it was good to connect with old friends and to meet some new authors. I led a writing workshop for members of the regional SCBWI and then manned my table for another couple of hours before heading downtown to the Xmas market. I haven’t got a tree yet but I picked up some more ornaments and spent the evening at the B&B debating whether or not America is in decline. Believe it or not, I don’t think it is…we have some intractable issues, sure, but I don’t think folks here understand what it’s like to live anywhere else in the world right now. Even wealthy European nations are struggling with skyrocketing energy costs and inflation is so high that many sectors are striking over the holidays just to earn a living wage. Yes, Trump damaged our institutions and the population is extremely divided, but the US is still a powerful, wealthy, energy-independent nation. We produce most of the food we need, and our economy is still generating hundreds of thousands of jobs despite rumors of an impending recession. The midterms prove that even conservatives are turning away from the right-wing nut jobs trying to destroy democracy. I look at what’s happening in the UK and I think twice about moving over there. Even with the pressure of having to select a new healthcare plan in the next week or two, I recognize that being a full-time Black feminist writer probably wouldn’t be possible in Scotland or Canada or New Zealand. I’d have free healthcare in all those countries, but I’d have to sacrifice a lot of other things—including financial independence. I just got an offer to do a big school presentation in Canada and they’re offering less than a third of my usual rate. I offer a sliding scale for Title I schools but that isn’t the case here—authors simply aren’t valued in the same way up there. As hard as I have to hustle down here, at least there’s some kind of payoff…and I have the support of a small but determined community of Black writers. Would I be willing to give that up? No. Could I build a comparable future/community in another country? I think it would be very difficult and I don’t have the same outrage that motivated me to speak out and self-publish over a decade ago. Purple is making great progress on CHICKEN WONDERS WHY and we’re almost done with the first sketch for BLUE BOY. I think I’m going to self-publish more books in 2023; we haven’t sold any of the projects my agent sent out this year, which means all that material is just sitting on my computer. MOONWALKING made another year-end list today: Kirkus Reviews’ Best Middle-Grade Books. But even if it manages to win an award in January, I don’t think that will significantly alter my prospects. And yet…I still have hope! Before turning in on Saturday night, I asked my fellow debaters to share something that made them feel hopeful about the US. I gave the answer I always give: “This is a nation of dreamers.” As bad as things get sometimes, we never stop imagining a better way forward…

growth edges

I just received a thoughtful email from Owen at Nonna Terra. He was reflecting on the year that was and looking ahead to 2023. It’s that time, I guess…the holidays are fast approaching, which means those dreaded book lists are appearing online. I’m happy that MOONWALKING made it onto the NYPL’s 2022 Best Books for Kids, but know that so many excellent titles get overlooked every year. THE WITCH’S APPRENTICE made it onto The Globe & Mail’s holiday gift guide, and there was interest in that title at NCTE last week. I wasn’t sure anyone would come to my morning signing; the exhibit hall was huge and felt a little empty at 10:30am, but folks joined the line and all the books were signed and given away. The next day Lyn and I signed 80 books in 40 minutes…and our afternoon panel was great. It was good to see friends in person but I definitely felt less enthusiastic than I have in the past. NCTE has always been one of my favorite conferences to attend because who doesn’t love English teachers?! And you get to mingle and interact in meaningful ways. The crowd was smaller this year, I think, but then it isn’t cheap to spend half a week in Anaheim right before Thanksgiving. I’m lucky that Macmillan paid for my expenses, and I got to spend a couple of days in the Bay Area with friends before shifting into conference mode. Came back to chilly Chicago last Saturday night with no internet at home and no service on my phone…getting that resolved took more time and energy than it should have but it made me sit with myself for a while. I don’t generally feel addicted to social media and am not at all worried about Twitter’s demise since I rarely use the platform. But I’m thinking more these days about *why* I spend so much time alone. I’m an introvert, I need solitude to write…I have all sorts of legit-sounding reasons. But Owen’s email and Chani’s weekly horoscope asked me to consider my “growth edges.” There are quite a few areas in my life that need work but I was surprised to find myself talking so much about family last week. One friend asked if I still have dreams and aspirations—she’s one of the most creative people I know but is having a dry spell, and I immediately linked her question to the stressful year she’s had. I tell kids all the time that writing, for me, is 70% dreaming and I fiercely protect that dream time. I practice avoidance more than I should…and the biggest source of stress in my life has always been family. So I avoid the family I was born into and haven’t built a family of my own. I look at my friends who are struggling and their concern is primarily for others—their kids, spouse, and/or parent. They put their loved ones’ needs first and that doesn’t leave a lot of time or energy to focus on their own needs or goals. During Friday’s panel at NCTE, one author shared that she wrote a seven-book series about a happy family that loves doing things together and rarely faces adversity—that wasn’t her reality as a child but she wanted that reality to at least exist in her books. Others on the panel talked about having difficult childhoods and facing racism without the tools they needed to defend themselves. All those experiences find a way into their work, but we didn’t talk about the challenge of finding time to write and breaking into a business that’s often hostile to people of color and Indigenous writers. Virginia Woolf wrote about women artists needing a room of their own; of course, she had wealth and servants to deal with a lot of her material needs. In some ways, the poor might dream more vividly than the wealthy—or perhaps they dream out of desperation. “Necessity is the mother of invention” and “great suffering produces great art”…this is an ongoing conversation about resources and trauma and what it takes to be an artist in this world. If your material needs are met, you don’t have to waste energy worrying about how the rent will be paid and where your next meal’s coming from; but you might also lose some of the drive that propelled you to be creative. I lost internet access for one day and saw how many folks relied on free wifi in cafes and the public library; it shouldn’t be, but it’s a luxury in this country to have reliable internet access in your home. I wanted this writer’s life and I worked hard to achieve it, but so many privileges make my current lifestyle possible (and easy). A friend recently lost her job and I’d love to see her leave NYC and try a new field. But it’s not easy to take risks and find or follow your passion when life feels precarious. If you have people depending on you, and if you don’t have folks to fall back on, you can’t afford to risk too much…and if you grew up feeling insecure, it can be hard to accept and believe that you’re finally secure. Precarity in my childhood caused a lot of anxiety and I still grapple with its lasting effects. I’m risk-averse in some situations and at other times, it’s commitment that terrifies me—settling down, having a steady job, slipping into a holding pattern, being bound to someone by a sense of duty. In one class I used to challenge my college students to prove that love *wasn’t* a form of enslavement for Black women! So these prompts that Owen shared today really resonated with me. He’s scheduling sessions now and I’m thinking about doing another 90-minute reading with him. I usually try to write something about goals and growth for the winter solstice; these questions are tough but important—a good place to start:

What emotional thresholds approach us? What are our growth edges, especially in terms of our personal relationships and our capacity for collective interdependence?Which patterns, behaviors, and practices have been protective partners to us, but now might be holding us back from moving more deeply into authentic connection & living by a love ethic? Which of these patterns, behaviors, and practices are we ready to shed? Which do we still need in order to feel safe?How might we bring more love and compassion to ourselves and one another as we work to balance our need for safety and protection with our need for more authentic connections?

I made a list of my own for The Reading Culture podcast; host Jordan Lloyd Bookey asked really thoughtful questions during our interview and she invites all guests to make a reading list. Mine focuses on middle grade fantasy fiction set in Chicago—you can find it here.

letter to readers

We’re preparing to launch Book 4 in the dragon series and my editor asked me to write a letter to readers—here it is:

compass

I thought I’d spend my 50th birthday in Scotland but plans changed unexpectedly and I got home on Monday instead. I’m still fighting jet lag—there’s something about flying westward that really messes with my body clock. Glasgow is six hours ahead of Chicago, so it wasn’t easy to do three virtual school visits while I was over there. The last one wrapped up at 1am on Friday and I struggled to get up later that morning to catch the train to Aberdeen. Luckily the station was just a few steps from my hotel and I was able to get a direct train. A woman with a support dog sat next to me for part of the trip and her dog slept on my feet. A sweet baby guzzled two bottles of milk across the aisle…it was very civilized, very soothing. The fields we passed were full of sheep and cows and goats and then suddenly the North Sea appeared on the other side of the tracks. I don’t feel like I have a lot to say about my trip (check my Instagram account for photos and details) but my head is still there and that’s made it hard to adjust to life here in the US. There are babies and dogs here in Chicago, and the leaves are much prettier here—probably because we don’t get rain every single day. The grass literally is greener over there but the main difference is watching the news every night and not seeing a report of one single shooting. I came home to yet another mass shooting, this time at a performing arts school in St. Louis. A seven-year-old was shot and killed here in the city while washing his hands at home and he’d just lost his father a few days earlier. The weekend is about to begin, which means by Monday, there will be reports of more shootings. This morning NPR did a report on some type of “switch” that allows pistols to be turned into machine guns. WTF?! This is our normal. I want a new normal.

I didn’t do anything special for my birthday on Wednesday but yesterday I redeemed my gift certificate for a ninety-minute solar return tarot reading and ancestral ritual session with Owen at Nonna Terra. He had several different decks but as soon as I saw the crow, I picked The Gentle Tarot, which is Indigenous-designed. This was only my second reading and I was encouraged not only to present my concerns and questions but to invite my ancestors or guides from various regions of the world. What did I feel coming up for me? Direction. I feel like I keep finding (or placing) myself at crossroads and don’t really worry that I’ll make a wrong choice but don’t know how to prioritize the need I see around me. In Scotland I was thinking a lot about Nevis and the connections between enslavers from Glasgow and plantations in the Caribbean. Then on a walking tour I found out about a particular family, the Stirling Maxwells, who built a stately home and filled it with priceless art using wealth derived from the enslavement of Africans in St. Kitts-Nevis. I went to the Pollok House website and discovered I had missed the deadline for a storytelling residency! I spent Tuesday afternoon updating my CV and sent it off anyway…I don’t really need a paid residency and it’s likely meant for Scottish writers, but it’s still my dream job: spend time in the house, mine the archives, and then create a suite of 4-6 stories, 2 of which would be published for young readers. I tracked down the tour guide who first told me about a runaway enslaved boy named Frederick last August. Turns out the child had nothing to do with the Findlays or the sale of tobacco…so do I rewrite my story? Or leave it as is and extend my author’s note to explain the discrepancy? I met with the scholar who proved that Frederick had been trafficked from the Caribbean by James Watt, famed Scottish inventor. I went to the People’s Palace to see the engraved silver slave collar that once circled the neck of an enslaved boy. I also saw a reproduction of the portrait of a wealthy Glaswegian family that owned an enslaved boy but had him painted out of the picture when it was no longer fashionable to flaunt your exploitation of a child. There are so many stories…the Viking exhibit in Aberdeen was incredible, even though the most interesting parts of the hoard couldn’t be displayed due to their delicate condition. There was a lidded pot filled with objects that seemed to have been assembled over a hundred years, which means it was likely an heirloom passed from one generation to another before it was buried in Scotland. The pot was wrapped in textiles that trace back to the Silk Road in Central Asia! It would be so easy to connect that pot to my Scandinavian girl from Iran/Iraq and her Arabic ring…I met with my agent yesterday and she ran through the long list of finished projects we haven’t yet sold and unfinished projects she’d like to send out to editors. But right now I’m thinking about Vikings and the triangular trade and children trafficked by Scottish inventors. I could stay put and finish those other projects, all of which are set here in the US. Or I could go back to Scotland (I’ve blocked off February and March…) or I could go back to Nevis for the first time in a decade and do my own research, write my own suite of stories for adults and kids. What’s a girl to do? The tarot session was really affirming. Owen reads the cards with a lot of compassion and he made no predictions but did sense that I was moving toward liberation—that’s what the Death card signifies. Transformation, claiming more space, realizing we can free ourselves from oppressive systems. I took lots of notes and just kept nodding because everything that came up rang true. Owen called it “cheerleading” because the cards confirmed what I already know about myself, the patterns in my life, the challenges, and the solutions. Did I end the session knowing which path I’m meant to follow? Not necessarily. But I do feel like I’m moving forward, growing, setting boundaries, and learning how best to use my gifts. After some very full days in Scotland, I took it easy on my birthday but did enjoy some of the presents I gave myself—like a new teacup and this shiny Labradorite necklace I got at the art gallery in Aberdeen. I’m breaking in my new glasses—first pair in forever that isn’t purple!—and we got the go-ahead from the condo board so renovations begin on Monday. Can I handle the chaos? Of course, I can. I’ll have to! Just the nudge I need to get out of the house and visit all the museums in Chicago…