Triple Header in Atlanta: Pearl Cleage, Charis, APL!

If you know me, you know that Georgia is always on my mind.  I am very happy to announce that the Silver Sparrow paperback tour includes a three day visit to Atlanta, and three signing events.  And I am thrilled to remind you that I will be signing all three of my novels– Silver Sparrow, Leaving Atlanta, and The Untelling.  So come out out.  It will be fun.  I promise.

Here’s the schedule.

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Writers Block or Procrastination Remedy: Start The Night Before

Like many people, the biggest impediment to my writing is a failure to sit myself in the chair and try.  I recently whined to someone that my writing hasn’t been “going well” for the last week or so.  I know the person thought that I have been sitting at my typewriter, staring sadly at the glass keys, waiting for the words to come.  But no.  My writing didn’t go well last week precisely because I hadn’t been staring at those keys.

The remedy is obbvious– I need to sit myself in that chair and have at it.

And as all of you know, whether we are talking about writing or exercising, or cleaning house, or whatever.  Starting is the hard part.  (Sidebar: Have you ever watched this awesome video? It’s the mother of all peptalks.)

But on a less touchy feely plane, here is a simple tangible suggestion:  Prepare your writing area the night before.  Clean off the desk.  I don’t mean just organize the clutter. I mean CLEAN IT. Wipe it down.  Then arrange all your tools just so.  Sharpen those pencils.  Do you drink coffee when you write?  Load the pot, so you only have to press “ON” when you get up.  If you have a special writing outfit, set it out, too.  (For me, that would be my fluffy robe.)  Then go to bed.

I find that is I get the process going at night, I wake up already in the mode to write.  And with everything set out before hand, I won’t get distracted and start cleaning up or something and them lose the mood to write.  And besides, a clean and lovely writing space is so inviting.  You will entice yourself as you entice your mood.

The picture you see here is my writing space in my place in New Jersey.  Looking at the photo makes me realise how much I miss it.  My lucky lamp! And the envelope you see is a letter from a reader, encouraging me to finish up Silver Sparrow.  The desk is has a glass top and I windex it down at night so it gleams in the morning.  Just seeing this picture makes me want to write.  Seriously.

What I am suggesting is a simple fix.  Try it.  And while you’re at it, buy yourself a couple of flowers.  Set them on your desk.  You deserve it.  And then, go write that book.

 

xo, t

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If These Shoes Could Talk

Yesterday, I spent the weekend in Los Angeles to give readings from Silver Sparrow at Eso Won Bookstore and the Los Angeles Times Festival of the Book.  For both events, I wore the shoes you see pictured here.  I know they aren’t much to look at.  They’re not red-bottoms, or Jimmy Choo’s.  But when I bought them, about twelve years ago, they were a real investment.  When I was in graduate school, I was an obsessive bargain hunter.  I was poor as a little mouse—living on approximately $1,200 a month.  I saw these shoes at some closeout store.  I still remember the description—Via Spiga, open-toe slingback, croco-embossed.  That last phrase, croco-embossed, really got me.  I was in shoe love.  But the cost– $73! It was such an indulgence.  I decided to buy them because I was giving a reading from my work-in-progress (Leaving Atlanta!) and I wanted to look nice.  I felt vain and silly for spending so much on a pair of shoes I was convinced I would never wear again.  Afterall, how often did I need to look nice? I was just a young woman with no money, chasing this writing dream.

I remembered this as I packed the shoes because I had left them behind last month when I traveled to New York to speak at the Harvard Club.  It was sort of a pain to get them back.  My assistant, Sarah, had to call half a dozen people to find them, and then there was the cost to have them overnighted.  And face it, the shoes really aren’t that fabulous.  Inside they are a little worn, so my feet slip in them and after a few hours my baby toe hurts.  But I can’t give up on my croco-embossed sling backs.

It’s not that they are a reminder of how far I’ve come, though is it nice to look at them that way.  But I like to think they remind me that I’ve always had my own back.  I bought myself a pair of fancy shoes although that negative voice that lurks in my head told me I didn’t deserve them, that I would never need them again.  That I shouldn’t get accustomed to speaking in public.   When I bought them, the negative voice told me that I was vain and shallow.  But the real story is that I invested in myself.  That I had a feeling that maybe the best was yet to come.

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Tales From The Kidscape– A Class on Writing Young Characters

On Saturday, May 5, I am teaching a course at the amazing Grub Street Writers Conference:  The Muse and the Marketplace.  I am delighted to be included because this conference is pretty amazing.  I like that they have courses in writing craft– hence the “muse”, and the business end, as well.  If you are in Boston, I strongly encourage you to come by and take a few courses.

My contribution to the festival is a course on writing coming of age stories.  When I last checked there were four places left in my class.  So, there’s still time for you to join in.  There are a lot of amazing other classes.  And the guest authors are top notch.

Meanwhile, here is the description of my class:

The coming of age story is a mainstay of American fiction. It is full of possibility – so many of the most enduring works of literature – fall into this genre: To Kill A Mockingbird, The Bluest Eye, The Catcher in The Rye, Great Expectations, Black Boy, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. The popularity of the genre holds fast in both literary and commercial fiction, from Harry Potter to Twilight to Portrait of the Artist of a Young Man and The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint. All of these stories require the author to authentically recreate the voice of a child. This craft class is not a literature survey, rather it is a discussion of strategies to create young characters that are are both convincing and compelling. 

 

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Happy Birthday Spelman, Thanks For The Memories

Dear Spelman, on behalf of the girl in this picture, thank you for showing me the way to become the woman I am today.  Happy Founders Day.

 

 

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With Real Gratitude

Yesterday, I read from my new novel, Dear History, at Radcliffe Institute at Harvard University.  I had butterflies because Dear History is not yet finished and I wasn’t quite sure if it was ready for the public.  I promised myself after my experiences with Silver Sparrow that I would not show my next work too soon.  But part of the Radcliffe Fellowship is that each person should show how she has been using her time here.  This year at Radcliffe has been such a a gift, and this seemed like so little to ask.  So I did it.  And it went so well.

The purpose of this post is not to recount the highlights of the evening, but to give deep thanks not only to Radcliffe, but to the community of writers and readers here in Cambridge who came out in force and cheered me on.  It’s easy to get so caught up in the drama of your own mind that for start to feel like you’re in this writing world all by yourself.  Leaving my office at 11pm after completing yet another round of revisions, I felt incredibly isolated and exhausted.

I was right about being exhausted, but not about being alone.  More than 100 people showed up to hear the debut of Dear History.  In the crowd were new friends, folks who had journeyed from New York, a couple mentors, and friends I just hadn’t met yet.  The most special guests were a middle school reading group.

Afterwards there was a happy hour and dinner after that.  It was lovely. I feel so blessed and lucky.

(In case you’re interested, here is an article about the event that ran in the Harvard Gazette.)

 

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By Popular Demand, Leaving Atlanta and The Untelling are Back! Thank you, Everyone!

Leaving Atlanta,  my debut novel, published in 2002, will always be my baby.  In many ways, it’s my most personal work, grounded heavily in my experiences growing up in Atlanta during the Atlanta Child Murders.  Many Americans don’t know that between 1979-81 almost thirty African American children were murdered in my hometown.  Those of us who grew up in Atlanta will never forget. It’s no wonder that I chose this as the subject matter for my first book.

And while child murder is a dark topic, I had a lot of fun writing Leaving Atlanta.  I got to go back and remember lots of wonderful details from childhood.  I pulled up memories that were on the edge of being forgotten forever.  There were little things like a weird orange colored, peanut butter flavored candy called a “Chick O Stick”.  I also pulled up a photo of a boy I had known who was murdered.  He was a couple of years older than I was, and a bully.  In my memory he was this huge kid, but when I saw his photo, I realised that he had been just a baby, really.  Understanding this was maybe the hardest thing about writing the book. My personal connection to this project as so deep that I added myself as a minor character.

Well, about three years ago, Leaving Atlanta and my second novel,  The Untelling, were put on “print on demand.”  This basically means that if someone wants a copy of the book, she has to wait for the publisher to print one up.  The books were expensive and took FOREVER to get to the reader. In addition, they were never available when I gave readings.  I was very unhappy about this, but there was little I could do.

But there was something that readers could do, and they did it.  Thanks to the success of Silver Sparrow, more people have discovered my work and have been curious about my other titles.  Enough people have shown interest in Leaving Atlanta and The Untelling that Grand Central Publishing has begun printing them again.  I was so delighted when I gave a reading last week and saw a stack of Leaving Atlanta and The Untelling on sale beside Silver Sparrow.

Thank you, so much, everyone for making this possible.  It means everything to me.

Love,

Tayari

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Caution: Writers At Play

Today is a big day for me.  At 4pm, I will read from my novel-in-progress at the Radcliffe Institute, where I am a fellow.  My name, translated literally from Swahili, means “she is prepared.”  I always thought it was a little lackluster and practical– like a pair of low-heeled shoes with arch support and laces.  But for this event, I have embodied the spirit of “Tayari.”  I have worked hard to make this reading and lecture the best it can possibly be.  The first challenge was choosing excerpts that worked together and could be expressed by being read aloud.  And then I needed to write a narrative sort of putting the work into context explaining why this story, why now. Around 8pm, I did a skpe run through with Lauren Cerand, making sure I had all my bases covered.  Then, I rushed back home to set my hair.  I went to bed feeling that I had done all I could do.

I woke up this morning and glanced at facebook and I saw the photo that is displayed here.  James Baldwin and Lorraine Hansberry getting their boogie on!  I looked at three more friends pages, and there was the photo again.  I am taking this as a sign. In all my preparation, I had forgotten the fun.

Look at this picture.  James Baldwin, that super serious American genuis looks like he is about to drop it like it’s hot.  And that is the author of A Raisin in the Sun shaking a tail feather.  I imagine myself sitting on the couch sipping club soda, chewing on a pencil, making last second revisions while everybody else is doing the hustle.

Anybody who knows me even a little bit will tell you that I am not a wallflower, but I somehow let my desire to bring my A game almost undermine that same game.  Your “A” game is still a game, and games are supposed to be fun. I forgot that if I, as the artist, am not having good time, nobody else will either.

I’m back on track now.  Today is going to be an amazing experience.  I’ve been here at the Radcliffe Institute at Harvard University since September, piecing together this novel.  It’s my most ambitious work ever.  It’s very contemporary and sections of it are narrated in the voice of a man.  I’m taking on some Big Ideas, but I also want to make sure it pops on the level of old-fashioned plot.  I’ve worked hard on Dear History and I am ready to share.  The even is open to the public, so if you’re in the area, I’d love to see you.

I know I haven’t been the most regular blogger these days, but I promise to report back and let you know how it went.

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Flying Home! Two Atlanta Events

Langston Hughes

Next week I am heading to my natural habitat, Atlanta Georgia, to do two events that I am very excited about.

It’s always so nice to be home. xoxo

 

 


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#OverWritersAnonymous

Since I am actively working on my new novel, you will see a lot more process-minded posts here.  For the last year, I have basically been on the road promoting Silver Sparrow, so I didn’t blog very much.  I figured that the world was not all that interested in my life in the various hotels all over the country. (I recently unlocked at badge on 4square because I have checked into 40 different airports.)  But now that my writing life has settled into a groove, it’s all I want to talk about.

Yesterday, I was on twitter.  (As you know, I am a tweeting fool! @tayari).  I saw this tweet:

My advice to this writer is: write the story however you can. Do whatever you do.  I am a serious overwriter in my early drafts. By overwriting, I mean, adjectives galore, adverbs all over the place. My characters sob. They shriek.  They snarl.  The “purple” language is because I know there is some need for emotion on the page and when I am working through a couple of drafts, I don’t have the energy or even words yet to conjure that emotion. In the first drafts (first few drafts, really) I am on a sort of writing rampage. I wouldn’t know a nuance if it slapped me. The goal at that stage is to get the story out.

If you don’t trust yourself to know when you’re overwriting, get yourself an editor who doesn’t play that mess.  I have a friend who specializes prose so dry and crisp it will make you thirsty.  I often ask her to give my work a quick once over. She is brutal and often strikes out some of my favorite phrases.  Sometimes I just take her advice and lose the words completely, and other times I work to come up with a better way to state the same idea.  And other times, I ignore her all together.

Right now, as I write this, I am looking at a monologue that I wrote last week that actually includes this: She cried until her face shone with tears. Yes, I, a professional writer of fiction, wrote that atrocious sentence.  I am not ashamed.  Why? Because I know it will not be in the finished product.  It’s just a placeholder until I come up with something better.  And I will.  And you will too.  Don’t worry.  You will not let yourself go out like that.

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