Our Gathering Place by Cleyvis Natera

Kweli’s 2020 conference kicked off with an opening keynote by Brian Young, a filmmaker and spring 2021 debut author from the Navajo Nation. From our quarantined places around the globe, he gently handed us a lovely reminder. We will survive this current pandemic crisis because we already know how. Our ancestors armed us with weapons by way of stories, stories that instilled in us the way through isolation and loneliness, hatred and fear. Familiar ground for most of us. And though Brian was speaking of a path through the dark times we currently are living through, it was also a balm for the journey ahead as writers, which, some of us have been toiling at for years.

Brian’s own journey is mired with disappointment, difficulty, bigotry and self-doubt. Yet, in his instance, the fulfillment of his desire to be a published writer was ultimately achieved through the grit instilled in him by his Navajo heritage, language, traditional stories and ceremonies. Storytelling is a literal path to healing in his community, and for him personally, a process that saved his life. Brian was clear – it is community which enables not just survival but our ability to thrive.  And beyond that, he said, “your voice is needed. It is what heals your community.”

 Brian’s presence at the conference was an example of personal responsibility to community. Brian first attended Kweli’s “Color of Children’s Literature Conference” in 2015 – virtually. He pitched his children’s manuscript back then to an established editor who was in attendance at Poet’s Den Gallery and Theatre in East Harlem. That editor, and others from the #OwnVoices and #DVPit communities requested the full manuscript. Yet at the end, not one took the project on. Through this series of rejections, he ultimately decided to pursue an MFA, and attended the uber-prestigious Columbia University MFA Program. In Columbia’s workshop, he was often told his writing was poised for “a niche readership,” that native stories don’t sell. It was when he returned to Kweli in 2017 at the New York Times Conference Center, a bit battered and discouraged, that he was further inspired to be courageous in spite of the countless “no’s.” He left Kweli’s 2017 conference with a community of support—indeed a family—and a renewed commitment to stay on his path and revise, revise, revise.

Brian’s perseverance was rewarded. In October 2019, Publishers Weekly announced that Rosemary Brosnan at Harper Collins acquired, in a two-book deal, world rights to Brian Young’s #NavajoVoices middle grade novels.

During his keynote, Brian shared that a visual artist was currently working on the cover of his soon to be published debut novel, tentatively titled “Healer of the Water Monster.” It will be published by Heartdrum – a new imprint at HarperCollins “devoted to publishing books by Native creators that introduce young Native protagonists and showcase the present and future of Indian Country. Scheduled to launch in winter 2021, the imprint is helmed by author Cynthia Leitich Smith, a member of the Muscogee Creek Nation, and Rosemary Brosnan, v-p and editorial director at HarperCollins Children’s Books.” This imprint didn’t even exist back in 2015 when Brian attended his first Kweli conference virtually. Brian came back this spring to offer us battle wounds by way of story, healing by way of tradition and ceremony, guidance by way of the ancestors, and a simple, sobering truth – had Brian listened to the voices of those who said no, his stories would have been lost to the world.

The framework erected by Laura Pegram, founder of Kweli, and her small but mighty warrior-volunteer team, is intelligent and effective. We are offered an “ever growing community, a family” of love and support each and every year at the “Kweli  Color of Children’s Conference.” Kweli is a gathering place where we are reminded that “our voices are needed.” We are invited to sit back, listen to the offerings that instruct and guide on the practical knowledge required to navigate spaces often hostile to what we’ve been called to do. Let me say this again for the people in the back. The conference is a way to build craft and community as well as confidence and courage so that we can navigate the publishing industry. At each turn, the onus is on us to remain committed to our paths against impossible odds.

Kweli means truth. So, let’s get on to the critical truths I learned at this year’s conference. 

First Truth: Persistence (and other miracles we take for granted)

“You cannot accept the word no as the final answer,” Laura Pegram said at the conclusion of Brian’s moving keynote. “We decide our destiny,” she continued, “we hold on to the dream until we fulfill it.”

Show, don’t tell – a clichéd mantra for those of us who strive to be great storytellers. And Laura’s persistence in moving forward with the 2020 conference event in the midst of a crisis that will forever change our lives is as true a sign of what is possible when you look to the ancestors to direct your steps, and then pivot. We will not bend and break at the sign of hardship. We will stand up to the test, innovate and leverage the tools available. We refuse to give up on our dreams until they’re fulfilled.

The need for persistence is perplexing. Why should we start our journey from this place of personal strength and not, say, skill and talent?

Second Truth: An Imperfect Industry

If you’re a living, breathing POC making your way through the USA, the realization that we have to be extraordinary to be acknowledged as ordinary is enough to knock you off your feet. Stay down there for a minute. Let me make another observation that is a certified, devastating truth.

During the discussion titled “Disrupting the System,” Arthur Levine spoke aloud something I’ve never heard a white person admit publicly: publishers don’t know what makes a book successful. “The way to success,” he told us, “is often to replicate a book that has been successful.” And when you consider who is selecting the books that are then to be replicated, it is a stark reality that lack of access is built into publishing DNA. Levine advised us to “be discerning about who you’re approaching in the publishing community and make sure that the people you want to work with have a deeper commitment to diversity than a momentary one.” 

Below, the latest statistics by the Diversity Baseline Survey – an annual effort that tracks diversity in publishing. Their goal is to highlight who is in these positions as they have the power to decide “which stories are amplified and which are shut out. ” The 2019 Diversity Baseline Results showed us, that overall, the publishing industry is:

76% white

74% Cis woman

81%  Straight

89% Non-Disabled

Here lies the main driver of inequality, lack of diversity and  fear of risk taking in publishing. What makes publishing an imperfect industry isn’t that it’s purposefully exclusive or intentionally flawed. Neither of those things are singular to this business. Rather, they’re reflective of our society. In children’s lit in particular, there’s the beautiful and daunting task of engendering empathy, of opening hearts and showing every single child they belong. As noted in the The Atlantic article featuring YA author Elizabeth Acevedo last year, “ If it follows that literature helps shape the worldview—and capacity for empathy—of those who consume it, then the comparative lack of meaningful stories featuring people of color has contributed to broader social chasms.”

What’s most heartbreaking is that the purpose of publishing is to find the greatest audience for great stories, to nurture writers who have talent, skill and passion to commit to this arduous path so they can keep at it. And based on its current model and assumptions, the publishing industry often falls short of that great ideal to writers and all readers – be they children, young adults or grownups – alike.

As writers in pursuit of “success,” it is sometimes tempting to fall into the trap the model seems to demand of us: to write not from our experience, our deepest and most creative selves – leaning into our most daring truth baring stories – but to attempt to replicate what sells. During the conversation titled, “What to Expect: Cultivating the Author-Agent-Editor Relationship,” editor Namrata Tripathi spoke directly to this temptation.

“It’s really about voice,” Tripathi said. “It’s about your You-ness. When you see an author writing toward a trend or something they think sells, there’s performativity. (It lacks) the pursuit of truth and a real confidence in your You-ness.”

In responding to the importance of representation in her work in the previously cited Atlantic article, Elizabeth Acevedo said: “I don’t wanna keep talking about exceptional young people. It can seem that that’s what I’m doing in my work because both my main characters are gifted, but they are [each] one of many. Because we’re focusing on them we see their magic, but if I had chosen a different character from that same cast, they also would be brilliant because kids are, and kids from these spaces are. We discount it.”

So – to recap! The task ahead for us as writers is to remain committed to our craft, to dig deeper into the authentic representations of our unique voice – understanding the result may be more often than not a big fat no, rather than the hell yes we so deserve.

Third Truth: Do it for Love, Do it for bragging rights

So, now that I’ve utterly depressed you, let me lift you up! Stand up next to me. The key as writers of color is to be clear on the reason we do what we do – our mission for being writers. If the goal is to be published, then heartbreak will abound, and it is likely you will give up quickly. But, if you are called to do this work because you want to tell great stories and ultimately, find the best vehicle to connect to the widest audience, a conference like Kweli is a perfect place to learn the framework that will lead to success. 

Connect Emotionality: During Eileen Robinson’s workshop for middle grade and YA novels, “The Emotional Journey,” she discussed why the topic of emotion is important. “Our hearts are the way we connect to other human beings,” she said. Creating an effective emotional arc is tantamount to a moving and engaging work of fiction.

During her workshop, she presented various examples of books written for this target audience, that displayed a masterful use of emotional depth in order to connect the reader to the story. She showed us a tool that can be used to track the emotional dexterity in your writing. Start with a blank piece of paper, draw a straight line that cuts the page in half. On the upper half, mark it as “good emotions,” and on the lower half, mark it as “bad emotions.” Chart out your stories, whether it is by chapters, or scenes, and identify the feelings your character/narrator evoke. The best stories are those that have a range of emotions – thereby, the dots or points on both the upper and lower halves of the page are distributed in each chapter, each scene, etc. If you find your stories being too much of a “one note,” filling out mostly the upper part or lower part of the page, it is a clear sign you have a piece that isn’t moving emotionally and likewise will have other technical problems.

Work on your craft: As much as we’d rather throw ourselves a pity party every time we get shut down, there’s an important question we must ask. Yes, even before you start submitting to your favorite journals, like Kweli. How strong is your technical skill as a writer for the genre you select. Do you read ravenously? Have you invested in workshops that teach you elements of craft like voice, plot, setting, character development, tension? Do you know how to inject beauty into your prose, so that those reading will be forced to pause, awed at the miracle of your singular narrative eye?

During the “Dark Fantastic” workshop,  Diana Abur Jaber, spoke of the joy and challenge of translating the middle eastern stories of her childhood – mostly heard through the oral traditions in her family – to capture and transport the reader through a portal she experienced as a child.

Later on in the discussion, Kwame Mbalia spoke of the thrill he finds at telling stories where other writers have left gaps. He used the example of “Interview with a Vampire,” by Anne Rice to highlight how a scene where the vampires feast on slaves and move on is but a moment in that book, but in that gap, an entire world was left for the telling.

I know - it can feel daunting, this idea of developing the skill required to be a masterful storyteller, but in fact, most successful writers have had to develop the skill to tell a story overtime. If you want to be truly great, then you have to also commit to the idea it is a lifetime endeavor – you will only improve through more writing, more reading,  more living, more loving. What readers may consider a gift, we writers know as the art of revising the idea, the initial insight, that impulse to make from a single word an entire world.

Roshani Choksi provided such encouragement when she said that we, “as children of immigrants [or children of people who haven’t had to navigate the worlds we often navigate], we’ve had to build an entire lexicon from what we were given. We already know how to create. 

Fourth Truth: Storytellers Heal the World Because We Are the Real Historians

During the “Disrupting the System,” discussion, Wade Hudson spoke of his professional experience in publishing years ago, when he was often told black people didn’t buy books. That black people didn’t read books. Or worst yet, that once a certain kind of book had been acquired, the imprint didn’t need more of that “kind” of book. Hudson discussed how many readers are still out there, needing to be reached, hungry for cultivation. In his perspective, publishing professionals have a responsibility to create new ways of connecting with a yet to be tapped audience, to help parents and teachers learn about new books, new writers.

Mekisha Telfer reminded us as writers that we also are empowered to engage at various levels where we have the control to do so – and thereby, own the opportunity to connect to each other, and readers, directly. “Build community,” she said. “Make sure to engage with both local and virtual communities.”

Cynthia Leitich Smith  reminded us that most of the power we hold comes from stories that invoke home. “Write what you hear,” she said. “The voices in your head – community, elders – sometimes the people in our communities have strength that comes from tradition. Don’t talk yourself out of it. Don’t minimalize it or trivialize it. You are enough. 

In a world that is in turmoil, it’s difficult to imagine what will happen next month, let alone in the years to come at the heels of this global pandemic. In addressing what the panel thought would happen next, Phoebe Ye responded that “we need each other more than ever. Publishers have had to be very flexible and fast to support parents who are now homeschool teachers. Under crisis, publishing is showing a lot of creativity and maybe that becomes a new way to conduct business.”

 Fifth Truth: As a New Path Opens, Create a New Paradigm

At Kweli’s closing Keynote speech, Linda Sue Park, author of many picture books and YA novels as well as being a Newberry Medal Award Winner, discussed the painful effects of misrepresentation in children’s books by using the simple analogy of knitting. She grew up watching her grandmother knit, and learned it from her, a tradition that has paid off as she now knits adorable outfits for her grandchildren. In children’s picture books, she often noticed that the knitting needles were drawn incorrectly. And it wasn’t until she encountered an image drawn by an illustrator who’d painted the needles from a memory of his grandmother that the misrepresented image was fixed – here again we see how art from the heart often presents the world with a more accurate image of what is.

Ms. Park’s speech was equal parts master class in how to connect with audiences, how to approach writing historical fiction for a YA audience that remains relevant to this day but most of all, it was a reminder of the power each of us holds to move complete strangers in a matter of minutes. Through her speech, we learned that many of the moments of bigotry and pain though her fictionalized accounts are auto-biographical. We learned that the power to change minds and hearts is absolutely ours to yield. The danger of the “one story,” is one most of us have lived our entire lives, and just because we happen to be POC doesn’t mean that we don’t also perpetuate it. To be truly inclusive, we must first examine ourselves, our habits, our stories, and put in the work, and time to make the world a fairer place, to write works of art that will make us proud, but also our communities proud. And by community, she meant a global community.

In a most touching moment, Ms. Park asserted that ahead of us in an opportunity to forge a new paradigm. And that as tempting as it is to want to push back, to say, let any of us be as mediocre as any of them have been, she’d rather see a model where we bring with us our passion for excellence, cooperation and support. “What if what others deem sources of weakness are instead the sources of our strength?” she asked. “We have different fears and that gives us a different understanding of courage. We’ve been hated on so much, we have a deeper understanding of love. Write those things.”

We will write those things, Ms. Park. And we will continue to come to Kweli’s gathering place for each other. We will toast in celebration of those of us who make it through the impossible odds, who triumph with book deals and growing audiences – who most critically hold up a mirror to so many young people in their work – a mirror that says: I see you, you belong, you matter, you are loved. We will extend an arm to those whose journeys may last a little longer, who come bruised and discouraged. We will remind each other that the world is a better place because we persist – so we must. And then, we will leave, revitalized for the hard work ahead.