Almost Zero

November 27, 2012 No Comments

Thirty-plus years ago, at my count, the teenaged daughter of a friend came home one day, demanding that her mother buy her a certain thing—an article of clothing? a music system? a television for her room?—I can’t remember. Whatever the item, the teen insisted she needed it, and pointedly informed her parent that said parent had to supply the item because, well, that’s what mothers are for. To my friend’s credit, her head did not explode, nor did her voice, or her hackles, rise, neither did she scream or shout. Instead, she did a very slow simmer, nodded her head and said something like, “I see. Let me give that some thought.”

The next day, while her daughter was at school, my friend removed almost every stitch of clothing her daughter owned from her room, as well as pretty much everything else—posters, radio, music albums, etc, etc, etc. What remained was one school uniform and, I think, underwear and a nightgown. When her daughter ran screaming through the house, my friend explained that, as the parent, she was responsible for providing her child with food, basic clothing, and a roof over her head. Everything else was extra!

Now, that’s what I call poetic justice!

I’m willing to wager her daughter never forgot this lesson, and neither did I. In fact, I remember filing this incident away in my mind, and thinking, “One of these days, I’m going to use this in a story.”

Several years ago, I found myself bemoaning the rise of entitlement in our society, but most especially among our young. Others noticed and frequently commented on the matter as well. That was my signal to tackle the topic, and I began sketching out a draft for Almost Zero: A Dyamonde Daniel Book.

In the original draft, Dyamonde orders her mom to buy her an expensive pair of high-top sneakers. After her mother responds by taking away almost all of Dyamonde’s clothing, Dyamonde schemes to get them back. Some of her schemes were pretty funny, I thought, but my editor felt there needed to be more to the story so I put my thinking cap back on, and wondered what Dyamonde would do if she encountered someone who, for some reason, owned even fewer clothes than Dyamonde had left in her closet. That question led me to a secondary story about a classmate whose family loses everything in a fire, to which Dyamonde responds by organizing a clothing drive.

In the end, I was glad my editor had pushed me to expand my original story. The final version was richer and deeper by far. Almost Zero went on to win great reviews, as well as the Horace Mann Upstanders Award.

I’ll leave you with excerpts from one of my favorite passages in the book. It poses the key question we all should ask when we recognize a need in our community or in our world: What can I do?

“Class,” said Mrs. Cordell, looking up now. “Some of you may have noticed that Isabel isn’t here today. Last night, there was a terrible fire in the apartment house where her family lives, and their apartment was destroyed. Everyone got out safely, thank God, but the family lost everything they owned….”

“Is there gonna be a clothes drive or something?” asked Dyamonde…

“Well, Dyamonde, the school can’t do anything officially…Of course, you’re always free to do something on your own, if you like.”

What can I do? Dyamonde asked herself. I don’t have any money. Then it hit her. But I do have clothes! Somewhere…

“Mom!”

Voices of Christmas

November 20, 2012 1 Comment

My editor at Zondervan asked if I was interested in writing a retelling of an Old Testament story like David and Goliath, or Noah and the Ark. I said no thanks. Neither interested me, but I thought it might be fun to figure out a fresh way to tell the Christmas story. What if I told the story in the voices of the characters who were central to it? That was the question that led me down the rabbit hole of my imagination. Voices of Christmas, a story in poetry, was the result.

Truth be told, this approach was not as big a leap as you might imagine. A couple of years earlier, I’d written the Easter story in a similar fashion. That book, titled At Jerusalem’s Gate, explored Easter from the points of view of priests, disciples, Pontius Pilate, Pilate’s wife, and a host of other characters one meets in the traditional story. The Christmas book, though, was unique in that it was told not only from the point-of-view of the characters, but was written strictly in their voices, as well. This approach takes the reader more deeply into the story. When you hear the character speak, you are better able to view the unfolding mystery of Christmas through each character’s eyes.

It’s always a bit weird trying to figure out what kind of language to use when writing about people who lived thousands of years ago, and who spoke a very different language than your own. But then again, that’s part of the challenge, and part of the fun.

Creating details of the environment was helped by research, and by drawing from notes I’d taken on a trip to Israel. There’s simply no substitute for walking on the same ground where your character’s trod.

As always, I strove to climb into the skins of my characters, and to view the world through their eyes. One thing I’d never contemplated, though, was climbing into the skin of an angel! It seemed only natural, though, because Gabriel is the one who introduces us to the core of the Christmas story: it is Gabriel who brings Mary the message of the Christ child, soon to be born through her.

Gabriel is one of my favorite characters in the Bible, and in this book. Illustrator Eric Velazquez used himself as the model for Gabriel, and I love the result!

I decided to arrange the poems sequentially, so that the story would move from prophecy to fulfillment. I wanted the story to unfold for the reader as is it were happening in real time. The hope was that the reader would feel a part of the story. To underscore that idea, I address the last poem to the reader. After introducing Gabriel, Mary, the shepherd, the Inn Keeper, three Magi, King Herod, and the rest, I ask the reader:

And who are you?
Not an angel, no.
Nor Herod.
But perhaps you are
a magi, mapping the miracle
on a chart of stars;
a shepherd
trading sleep
for a chance to seek
a golden child
in swaddling clothes;
a Simeon
who has hoped for a lifetime
to find the one called
Emmanuel, God with us.
Or are you like Mary,
prayerfully waiting
for the King of Kings
to be born in you?
Well, He is here!
Sing! Sing “O, Holy Night.”
Run toward His Light!

Once the story was complete, voice artist Craig Northcutt and I recorded the text. A bonus CD of that reading accompanies each copy of the book.

As I wrote and recorded Voices of Christmas, I imagined children and families gathered together, sharing these poems, one by one, as they count down the days of Advent.

A girl can dream, can’t she?

Barack Obama

November 8, 2012 1 Comment

You know how I’m always saying I’m up for a challenge? Well, with this book, God called me on it.

Everything about this book was impossible.

In 2008, I was going along, minding my own business, writing my books and sweating the latest deadline. I’d instructed my agent to restrain herself from offering me any new projects. My plate was full, and my cup had long since runneth over. “No problem,” she said. “I understand.” Then, barely two weeks later, she sent me the email: “I know you’re busy,” it began, “and I know you said you didn’t want to consider any new projects, but I really think you should scroll down and read this email from Simon & Schuster.” Breathing heavily, and letting fly a few words I can’t repeat here, I scrolled down the page. It was a letter from Justin Chandra asking if I’d consider writing a picture book biography of then-Senator Barack Obama who, as it happened, was running for the Democratic nomination for president.

If you think I jumped at the chance, you’d lose the bet. I didn’t know much about Mr. Obama. (That’s a strange name, I thought.) And I’m not particularly interested in politics. I did, however, realize the offer was substantial, and that I should at least appear to be giving it serious consideration. With that in mind, I decided to wait two weeks before turning it down.

During that two months, I did a little research on Senator Obama, and noticed that there seemed to be a growing degree of excitement about him. And it began to dawn o me that a book about him would probably be a high profile project. In other words, this could potentially be a very big book. What were the odds, I wondered, that I would ever again be offered such a high profile project? Not very good, I decided, and so I called my agent and said, “Let’s go for it.”

I had no idea what I was in for.

Simon & Schuster had set their book release to coincide with the Democratic National Convention in August. Counting back from that date, and considering the least amount of time illustrator Bryan Collier would need to complete the artwork, I had roughly three weeks to research and turn around a polished first draft. I’ve written biographies and works of historical fiction before, and I can tell you I usually spend months just doing the research.

Job number one became not to panic! As it happened, a friend had recently mentioned having a love for research, so I gave her a call and put her to work culling material for me to pour over. She sent me articles, book titles, and various interviews with Obama. I felt like I was back at college, cramming for an exam only, this time, the results would be read by thousands of people, not just my professor!

This project was unusual in another respect. Writing in a normal time-frame, I would consider several possible approaches to telling the story, and I’d try a couple until I figured out which approach worked best. In this case, however, there was no time for that. I had to come up with an idea and just run with it, hoping it was the right one.

The publisher wanted this book to capture some of the energy of the race for the nomination, as well as tell the back-story of Obama’s life and what led him to decide to run for president. That meant the book needed to be both informative and engaging. But how do you engage the littlest readers in a book about a political leader? I decided to view this story though the eyes of a young child, and to incorporate that point-of-view throughout the text. That way, even the youngest readers would have a character with whom they could relate. It felt like a bit of a gamble, but I believed it could work, so I went with it.

I experienced the tyranny of the clock during every step of this project. I knew how extremely challenging it would be for Bryan to create the art for this text, given the insane schedule, so to give him a leg up, I started secretly funneling him pages, so that he could get going on his own research for artistic reference. My editor would probably have had a cow, if she’d known.

At three weeks, I sent off my first draft, then spent the next month or so in revisions. Barack Obama: Son of Promise, Child of Hope released the day before the DNC. Bryan and I were in attendance to sign copies of the book.

What a rush!

I wasn’t quite done with the book after its release, though. Once Obama was nominated, I had to update the Author’s Note. When he was elected, I had to update it yet again. When he won the Noble Prize, it was updated. And once he began campaigning for a second term—you get the picture!

Three years after it reached #1 on the New York Times Bestsellers list, a special edition, with a CD of me reading the book, was released. And the book that proved to be a challenge with a capitol C is still going strong. And to think: I almost turned this project down.

Wow.

At Break of Day

October 23, 2012 No Comments

How do you retell a story that’s been told a thousand times? How do you make it new, and fresh? Those were the questions I asked myself when I got the idea to write a creation story. But I didn’t get to that point on my own.

I hadn’t been sitting around thinking about writing any kind of creation story. It was nowhere in my file folder of ideas. But one of my publishers asked if I could apply myself to the retelling of a story from the Old Testament. They were thinking more like David and Goliath, or Noah and the Ark, but no bells went off in my head at the thought of those well-told tales. The creation story, though, was something I believed I could sink my teeth into. In other words, it was the greater challenge, and, as I’ve said elsewhere, I love a good challenge!

I opened the Bible and reread the creation story in Genesis, making notes as I went along. Apart from Genesis, I remembered several references to the creation story throughout the New Testament, as well, most especially in Hebrews. There it says “God…in these last days has spoken to us in His Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the world.” In other words, the Son, Jesus, was involved in the creation. This idea is reiterated in other books of the Bible, as well.

The key, then, to telling this old story in a new way, was perspective. I decided to write this story from the points-of-view of both Father and Son.

My original text was more than matched by the textual, mixed-media illustrations of Paul Morin. He spoke life into each scene by creating mass, and depth. In one painting, for example, he imbedded lace in the shapes of flowers and butterflies, which he then painted over in brilliant colors. He laid pieces over a tree, as well, and used lace in the leaves to remarkable effect. This kind of texture lent great weight to the story.

At Break of Day made the CCBC Choices list, as well as the CBC Not Just for Children Anymore list. Reviewers said of the final product, “A lovely and poetic recasting of the Biblical creation story in a modern spirit…” (Kirkus) “Overall, a vigorous addition to the Creation canon.” (Booklist) “…I find myself once again prowling the children’s section, looking for magic, for lightening in a bottle. I may have found it in At Break of Day.” (Bookpage)

This title remains, to this day, one of my favorite picture books. It’s hard to choose a passage to share with you, but this one is special to me. Have you read this book already? If not, enjoy!

At Break of Day

…The son could hardly wait for the fifth day to begin. At
dawn, he headed for the seashore. Then, while his father
watched, the son filled the seas with sharks and seals, starfish
and stingrays, whales and walruses, and short-finned and
long-finned creatures that glided through the clear water
gracefully.

The father nodded his approval. Then the son whispered,
and the word he whispered became a feather, and the
feather traveled on the warm wind of his breath.

In an instant, the whir of wings beating the air echoed
through field and forest, and scores of birds soared and
skimmed and swooped across the sky. The birds looked
left and right but could not find the place where the wind
began.

It’s Raining Laughter

October 16, 2012 No Comments

If there’s such a thing as a backwards approach to creating a picture book, I’m something of an expert. On three separate occasions, I’ve crafted books in precisely that way. First, there was Something On My Mind, with art by Tom Feelings. Next came From a Child’s Heart, with art by Brenda Joysmith. And last was It’s Raining Laughter, with photographs by Myles Pinkney (yes, that’s right, of the Pinkney clan, a dynasty in the children’s book world). The latter is the subject of this week’s blog.

It’s Raining Laughter is a collection of color photographs and poetry, organized around the theme of joy. Mind you, when I first began work on this project, there was no theme. There were no poems. There was not even the hint of an idea for a book, as far as I could see. It’s Raining Laughter began with the visuals.

An editor at Dial Books, with whom I’d published previously, sent me a binder of photographs by Myles Pinkney and asked me to consider creating a storyline to turn these loose photographs into a book for young readers. I liked the photos I saw, but didn’t find any connecting theme that I could work with. Was it possible, I wondered, if Myles could send me additional photos? The answer was yes. The problem, though, was knowing what kinds of photos to ask for. I wasn’t at all sure since I had, as yet, no theme. “Just start sending me photos of children,” I said to Myles, “and I’ll tell you when to stop, all right?” This was a very unorthodox way to work, but Myles graciously agreed.

As the photos came in, I taped them to a wall of my apartment, eventually covering the wall completely. I probably had close to a hundred photos by the time a germ of an idea began to form.

Day and night, I studied the photos, and I found myself drawn to the images that were happiest, images of children playing, running through sprinklers, climbing, exploring, and laughing. It suddenly came to me that joy was the element that connected them all, and so that became my theme.

That decided, I culled the photos I most wanted to use, then focused on creating a narrative about the child, or children, captured in each photo. I drafted the narrative in paragraph form, at first, then worked to craft each narrative into a poem.

Once I had the polished draft, I sent it to my editor. She and the art director made the final selection of photos, but they did end up using roughly 85–90% of the photos I’d chosen.

What a fun project! I love the idea of marrying poetry to art or photographs. I look forward to doing so again.

Have you ever read It’s Raining Laughter? Here’s one of my favorite poems from the collection.

The Laughing Bug

I caught the laughing bug
the other day.
Who spread the germ to me
it’s hard to say.

My brother told
a yucky monster story,
and had to laugh himself
it was so gory.

My sister squealed
with joy, and giggled when
Dad tickled her. Did I
start laughing then?

Someone infected me
with glee that day.
I wonder if God’s love
could spread that way.

A Pocketful of Poems

October 9, 2012 No Comments

True confessions: I have an obsessive-compulsive personality. Fortunately, I channel in mostly healthy ways. A Pocketful of Poems is a prime example.

Back in the 1990’s (was it that long ago?) I came across The Essential Haiku, edited by Robert Hass. Once I planted my face in this collection of poems by Basho, Buson, and Issa, I barely came up for air. I was in Haiku heaven!

I’d fallen in love with this form of poetry as a child. I was forever challenging myself to paint a picture or tell a story using as few words as possible, so haiku was right up my alley. But I hadn’t read much haiku as an adult, so this collection was a special treat.

After I read this book, I became absolutely obsessed with writing haiku. I couldn’t help myself. Before I knew it, I had a collection of nearly 100 poems! (If I were the Batman’s sidekick Robin, of television fame, I’d say Holy Haiku, Batman! And yes, I’m showing my age. Whatever.)

The focus of my collection was contemporary-urban, rather than traditional, giving it my own twist. I wanted to use this ancient form to create poetry that contemporary children, especially those living in the inner city—an important audience for me—could embrace as their own.

I was happy with the manuscript, and was convinced some lucky publisher was going to snap it up.

Not even.

One publisher after another returned the manuscript with some version of the question, “Why are you writing haiku?”

First, I was dumbfounded. Then, I was irritated. What kind of question was that? (I used lots of colorful language in the moment.) No one was forthcoming in explaining what he or she meant by that, which only annoyed me further. But I had a few wild guesses.

As an author of African American descent, I am routinely put in a certain box. I am expected to write either African folktales, or books featuring African American historical figures, or “problem” books about contemporary African American life. On a more personal level, as Nikki Grimes, I am expected to write character driven, narrative poetry, primarily because that’s what I’ve published in the past. If I dare veer off into themed collections, or such exotic forms as sonnet or haiku, well, off with my head! That’s not supposed to be in my wheel-house, right? Wrong.

Be that as it may, no publisher was biting, and I felt deflated.

I sat down to think about what kinds of manuscripts I’d been most successful at selling, and realized the narrative thread was the key that might make even a collection of haiku by me more palatable to publishers. So, I pulled out my hefty manuscript, chose a small number of haiku to work with, and settled in for a brand new draft.

I opened my file folder of names, and chose one for a character who would lightly narrate my picture book collection of haiku. I decided to shape this book as a collection of paired poems, writing free verse poems from the character’s P.O.V., and pairing each with a haiku on the same theme. I organized the collection seasonally, and added a simple author’s note about haiku. Once the new version of my haiku manuscript was complete, I sent it out again.

I hit pay-dirt almost immediately, but the publisher’s offer was too lowball for me to consider. So I was on to the next house. And the next. And the next. And the next.

Had I made a mistake by rejecting that first offer? I was beginning to wonder.

Illustrators — I was thrilled for this opportunity to grab a photo with six of my wonderful illustrators. Javaka Steptoe, who illustrated A Pocketful of Poems, is to the far right of me in this shot.

About one year later—yes, I said one entire, bone-crushing, ego-deflating, twelve-month period—I received contract offer number two! This time the amount suggested was roughly eight times that of the first publisher! I screamed yes over the phone. I think my agent has finally gotten her hearing back!

It took a few years to bring A Pocketful of Poems to the marketplace, but it went on to make the Bank Street College Best Book of the Year, and the CCBC Choices list. More importantly, it continues to be a staple in classrooms across the country. Call this another lesson in the old saying, “good things come to those who wait.”

If you haven’t read A Pocketful of Poems yet, I hope you will. Besides my poetry, I know you’ll enjoy the extraordinary illustrations by Javaka Steptoe.

I’ll close with one of my favorite pairs of poems from the book.

Pumpkin

Pumpkin is an orange word.
I set its roundness out
where others can enjoy it.
I help Mama carve
a crooked smile on its face.
Come Thanksgiving,
we bake others like it for dessert.
But first we have to wait
for them to arrive.

Pumpkins catch a bus
to town. How else could they get
here by Thanksgiving?