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“Brave Face: A Memoir: How I Survived Growing Up, Coming out, and Depression” by Shaun David Hutchinson

February 9, 2020 By Patricia Hruby Powell 2 Comments

Shaun David Hutchinson wrote “Brave Face: A Memoir: How I Survived Growing Up, Coming Out, and Depression” (Simon Pulse 2019) revealing his life in a small town in Florida in the 90s.

Hutchinson felt that books and movies told him what he was supposed to want: “fall in love with a girl, and want to have sex with her.” He set on his path to marry (a woman), have a family and live happily.

With an early girlfriend “kissing . . . gave me that sweaty/nauseated/horny feeling that made me unsure whether I was going to puke.” He drops her. He tries another and drops her. Whereas he wasn’t an unpopular kid, these events don’t increase his social status.

At home, he can’t do simple chores or take part in the family community. He has yelling fights with his mom. “I felt like she was dropping the weight of the world on my back while I was already carrying twice that amount . . . there was a short circuit in my brain somewhere.”

At school he finds solace in the drama club and finds close frienships. Then he finds debate, which helps develop his analytical thinking.

Still, as a straight kid he performs a monolog from “I Hate Hamlet,” playing it for laughs limp-wristed, bare midriffed, in short shorts. He loves the outraged laughing response of the audience. Later he says, “I wasn’t gay. I couldn’t be gay. Being gay . . . was a role I’d played for laughs.” He’d be a lawyer or an actor.

In 1994 the Department of Defense instituted the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, confirming that being gay was shameful. Movies showed gay men as “flamboyant comedic reliefs whose sole purpose was to help satisfy the needs of straight people.” Or gay men were “portrayed as promiscuous sexual deviants and drug abusers . . . it’s how I saw them too.”

His older half-brother comes out to him. “I assumed that he was going to wind up the way I believed every gay man wound up. Lonely, sick, addicted to drugs, or dead.” He does not empathize. By his own admission, he’s arrogant. When he steals magazines displaying naked men it does not occur to him that he’s gay. But he gets caught

He gets himself into some rough situations and here’s the necessary spoiler. He attempts suicide and nearly succeeds. There are links to suicide prevention and depression support groups in the book.

It’s a relief for him—and for the reader—when he finally starts coming out. At which point I realize, right, you come out many times—there’s your family, your groups—it’s not just one big hurrah.

Fortunately, being gay has been normalized to a degree—especially in urban or college town settings, but, still it’s difficult. Everyone deserves to see themselves in literature. You might want to give this book to some kid who you think might benefit.

Patricia Hruby Powell is the author of the award-winning Josephine; Loving vs Virginia; and Struttin’ With Some Barbecue among others. She teaches community classes in writing at Parkland College. talesforallages.com

“Thirteen Doorways, Wolves Behind Them All” by Laura Ruby

January 19, 2020 By Patricia Hruby Powell Leave a Comment

When their mother dies, Frankie and her siblings are sent to an orphanage until their Italian immigrant father can pull himself together and provide for them in Thirteen Doorways, Wolves Behind Them All (Balzer & Bray 2019) by Laura Ruby. Set in late Depression era in Chicago, we see all of society struggling in this National Book Award finalist. Now here’s the kicker. The narrator is a deceased young woman—a ghost—who is able to see what just about everyone and anyone is doing—or thinking.

The writing is lyrical only when it needs to be—such as the opening. Likening her to an abalone cup, the narrating ghost says, “Frankie traced the pearlescent edge of the shell with her finger,” observes that it still wasn’t broken, and neither was Frankie. Then Frankie hears a fox cry in the distance. If I weren’t already hooked by the ghost-narrator, the mystery, wildness, and subtle delicacy would draw me right in.

The orphanage is Catholic which plays heavily into the story. Frankie, curious about her young womanhood, irritates many of the nuns, who, out of fear, behave cruelly to their pubescent charges. Or maybe they’re cruel for some other reason. Sister George, wakes many a girl by hefting her mattress and spilling her to the floor. Daily.

But nothing is going to keep Frankie down—not even her annoying younger sister Toni. Not until her father arrives with a meatball sandwich for his four children, and a new wife and her children in tow. He announces that he will take her older brothers and his new family to Colorado where he will start anew as a cobbler for miners—leaving Frankie and Toni behind. There’s a promise to fetch them, but years pass, Frankie falls in love, her young soldier marches off to World War II, and when will her father return for them? But maybe the orphanage is a safer place to grow up than in her family home, where she appears to be worthless enough to be discarded.

The other story is that of the narrator Pearl who we eventually discover died during World War I. Both Frankie and Pearl’s stories are mysteries, which come together at the end in a surprising way.

Perhaps one of my favorite aspects of this admirable book is that it comes from the life and stories of the author’s late mother-in-law, Frances Ponzo Metro. This you find out in the end-matter. Metro told her stories in snippets and out of order to the fascinated author, surprised that anyone would be interested. And Ruby did copious research, interviewing Metro’s fellow orphans, viewing archival documents and films of Angel Guardian (the German Catholic orphanage in Chicago), as well as copious reading about the Depression, World Wars I and II.

This is another wonderful cross-over book for adults and young adults.

Patricia Hruby Powell is the author of the award-winning Josephine; Loving vs Virginia; and Struttin’ With Some Barbecue among others. She teaches writing classes at Parkland College. talesforallages.com

To Comply or Not To Comply

January 15, 2020 By Patricia Hruby Powell Leave a Comment

To Comply or Not to Comply: A Few Stories

Critique Groups

We write by ourselves—pouring our hearts and ideas out onto the page. Then we bring those heart-filled pages to our writing group. Hopefully they support us and want the best for us. But the whole point is to improve our writing, so the members critique— after all it is a critique group. They question us. What is your main purpose? Someone asks, Is this phrase really what you want to say? Or, This structure confuses me. Or, perhaps the worst, This is fatally flawed.

When yours is the work being critiqued, you listen carefully. If you have an ongoing group you learn each member’s strengths in critiquing as time goes on. This one is good with rhythm and sound. This one is a librarian and knows the literature. This one is the grammarian. But this other one knows the main character’s voice doesn’t need to be grammatical. You don’t disregard anyone’s feedback—whether they’re published or not. Sometimes the least experienced person in your group has a clarity that turns out to be the most helpful of all.

You take notes during the meeting. You go home and pore over the written comments, whether on paper or in e-documents. I take the one paper version that speaks to me most clearly (or is the cleanest, or attracts me for some reason) and then I assign a color for each critiquer and add their notes to the document. If two or more people have the same comment, I take that comment especially seriously. I return to my color key to remind myself who else made similar comments. I know my critiquers. I respect my critiquers. We’ve grown up together as writers and have gotten published over time. Some are pre-published. Yes, some people move away, but we usually remain friends. New people occasionally join. We help each other.

It’s understood that as a critiquer you’re expressing opinions. So much is simply subjective. One suggestion or marked problem might contradict another critiquer’s suggestion. You know that the one being critiqued won’t do everything you suggest. It’s their piece, guided by their vision. So the buck stops at the writer. It’s up to you—the writer—to figure out the right path.

Submissions to Agents or Editors

When you or your group think it’s time to send your work to an editor or an agent, you ready yourself to receive further suggestions or advice, from the editing professionals. If the editor or agent likes your work enough to ask you to revise, that’s great. They’re interested. Hoorah! You’re making progress. But what if the advice makes no sense to you, or you’re opposed to the changes?

Now let’s get personal. Here are some stories, starting with my own.

My background is that of a dancer/ choreographer who was the chief cook and bottle washer for my dance company, One Plus One. Well, actually I was dancer, choreographer, booking agent (sometimes), and oftentimes costume designer, lighting designer, travel guide, grant writer, and who knows what else! I was NOT accustomed to others telling me how something should be done. Walter Lorraine at Houghton Mifflin said he might buy my picture book titled Frog Plus Frog if I made a story out of it. Hmmm…It felt like a story to me. It was the story of my internationally touring dance company, told in “Frog” and illustrated by me. I revised, trying to make it more of a “story.” Perhaps I still didn’t understand what Mr. Lorraine meant by “story.” Anyway, I didn’t change it to his satisfaction. He told me I was stubborn. True. But I’d tried. It was never published.

I wrote an autobiographical novel of my eleven-year-old self, titled Maddy (get it, Patty/Maddy?). Editor Wendy Lamb, then, an editor at Penguin, said, Do this and this and this and I’ll look at it again. I tried half-heartedly, but I didn’t really want to do this and this and this. I liked my book the way it was. Virginia Buckley of Clarion and Robbie Mayes of FSG each asked me to make revisions I didn’t want to do or didn’t understand. I sort of tried. They both declared it publishable—but not by them. It was never published. Who knew it would be so difficult to get published?

I submitted a collection of retold flower folktales, Bloom Tales, to Charlesbridge. An editor there told me that if I chose Writing Tips To Comply or Not to Comply: A Few Stories 14 other simple folktales and retold them briefly such that each could be an illustrated double-page spread, she’d love to look at that. But that wasn’t what I wanted to do. Who knew it was this difficult to get published?

So a few years later I tried what that editor had suggested and sent it to her, but by then she’d left the house. And no one else at Charlesbridge wanted it. Publishing is a subjective matter too— and therefore placing a manuscript is partly luck.

Eventually that manuscript of brief folktales became my first book, Blossom Tales: Flower Stories from Around the World (Moon Mountain 2002), beautifully illustrated by Sarah Dillon. Sadly, Moon Mountain is now defunct. But the lesson is: Those editors are smart. They know what they’re talking about. Today, most manuscripts have to go through agents to get to editors, but those agents know their stuff too, and might also suggest revisions.

So if you want to get published, I’d suggest you do what those smart and knowledgeable editors and agents suggest. But how can you do that if your heart isn’t in it? Next question: Am I sorry I didn’t comply? I was disappointed to not get those early manuscripts published, but I kept working, persevering, improving my work. As with any art, by practicing diligently you improve your skills. After Blossom Tales I published two retold Navajo folktales with Salina Bookshelf, wonderfully illustrated by the Navajo artist Kendrick Benally.

Let’s look at some other authors’ stories—members of SCBWI-Illinois who complied and got published. They’re not necessarily compliant but they did end up complying. And so became published authors—probably sooner in their careers than I, a noncomplier, did.

Sallie Wolf had a manuscript critiqued at a local conference. The editor liked her writing but didn’t want the piece Sallie had submitted. The editor wanted a truck piece. Sallie set to writing it on her ‘L’ trip home—a different truck for each day of the week. The editor said, “Wrong age group, trucks are for toddlers, focus on your audience”. Sallie complied, rewrote, sent it in. After nine months she called the editor. The editor asked her to rewrite it in rhymed couplets and gave her a first couplet as a model. OK, said Sallie.

Four years after that ‘L’ ride Peter’s Trucks was published (Albert Whitman 1992). Sallie then wrote Truck Stuck, which Whitman rejected, and twelve short years later 😉 it came out with Charlesbridge (2008). (Sallie did not give up). Sallie complied. She believed some smart editors and improved her stories as she worked with them.

There are lots of similar stories. Frequently an editor will ask for a revision, the author will comply, and yet no contract is offered. Most authors feel they vastly improve their manuscripts by working with an editor who cares. So what if, after all that work, no contract is offered? Oftentimes it will sell to another publisher. That’s what happened with my Lift As You Climb: The Story of Ella Baker (McElderry—Simon & Schuster 2020). I worked with an editor from one house. We radically improved my manuscript. We worked great together. But she couldn’t get it through acquisitions— you know, that’s when the editor brings the work to the editorial, marketing, and maybe art staff meeting—where they decide on whether to offer a contract. Shortly after, my agent sold this manuscript to Simon & Schuster and there was practically no editing to be done (I’d already done it).

Sara Shacter spent a year revising her novel for an agent. Though the agent ultimately passed, the manuscript had improved immensely and Sara snagged another agent.

Carol Grannick made six huge revisions to her novel for one agent, who finally felt she’d nailed it, but the agent failed to sell the book. They parted 15 ways. So Carol returned to her original concept, made improvements to the story, and sold it. Ta da! Sometimes what an editor or agent wants isn’t what the book you’re writing necessarily needs to find its home. Carol’s vision held strong. Look for Reeni’s Turn (Regal House/Fitzroy Books, 2020). Yeah, Carol!

I do love working with an editor whose ideas make sense to me. But I’m still stubborn. My agent has been placing my work for ten years now. We do well together. But recently, she was confused by the structure of a manuscript I submitted to her. She asked me to do something that baffled me. Each day I’d look at her preferred structure and each day I’d close my computer and go off to clean my deck, organize my office. Or play Wordscapes on my phone. After a week or so, I asked my (editing) agent to submit the piece as I’d organized it, to the four editors who have bought recent works of mine. I wondered if she’d drop me, but I couldn’t do what she’d asked. After a few days of silence, she agreed. If it turns out all four of those editors are perplexed by my work, I’ll go back to the drawing board. It was risky. But I simply couldn’t do what my agent wanted—it was no longer my piece with my ideas if I restructured it.

Post Contract

Even after you have a contract (Yay! Congratulations! Fireworks! Cocktails!) editors inevitably ask you for revisions. Sometimes you fully comply and sometimes you don’t. They expect this. Editors respect their writers.

In Alice McGinty’s first trade book, Ten Little Lambs (Dial 2002), there was the mention of underwear. The editor did not like the underwear. Alice said something to the effect of, “Please, I want the underwear. Kids love underwear.” But it was a first book and as Alice says, “You pick your battles.” That underwear became pajamas.

In another of Alice’s books, the marketing department created a title that simply didn’t work for Alice. Every day she’d suggest an alternate title. Finally they agreed on the title Eliza’s Kindergarten Surprise (Marshall Cavendish 2007). You pick your battles.

My editor wanted a metaphor of fabric to run through Loving vs. Virginia (Chronicle 2017) in the same way I’d used a volcano metaphor in Josephine (Chronicle 2014). I couldn’t make it work. But I kept a few references to home-spun cloth and fabric, which deepened the tactile sense in the story. Sometimes (or maybe always) an editor requests changes because she thinks something is missing from the work— but there are various ways to address what might be missing. What they want is for your book to work in the best way possible.

To Comply or Not

If you’re not yet published, is it because you’re still developing your style, your work? The stories above are just a few sample situations. Walter Lorraine was correct. I’m stubborn—not just due to my experience as chief cook and bottle washer, but stubbornness is a deeply hewn character trait of mine. I like to think of it as being strong-willed 😉

We make decisions about our work at every turn. And when we let others into the mix—critique group members, agents, editors, our readers—we open ourselves up to even more decisions that must be made. No one can tell you with certainty when to comply and when not to, but maybe these stories can help guide you when you face your own struggles with editorial demands. To comply or not to comply, that is often the question.

Please share your inspiring (or not-inspiring) stories or ask questions or advice from this knowledgeable group of Illinois SCBWI members.

Patricia Hruby Powell teaches continuing education writing classes at Parkland College in Champaign. She tends to feel a strong ownership of her writing, but loves to work with editors whom she admires and respects and who can guide her in improving her books, which currently include Struttin’ With Some Barbecue; Loving vs. Virginia; and Josephine: The Dazzling Life of Josephine Baker.

“1919: The Year That Changed America” by Martin W. Sandler”

December 29, 2019 By Patricia Hruby Powell Leave a Comment

1919: The Year That Changed America (Bloomsbury 2019) by Martin W. Sandler won the National Book Award Winner for Young People’s Literature.

Sandler’s opening chapter would be humorous if it weren’t so horrific. A huge vat of molasses—2.3 million gallons—explodes in Boston’s crowded North End in mid-January 1919 burying people and horses alive or blowing them clear into the bay. If the reader is anything like me, they’re riveted. Molasses?

Molasses connects us directly to many issues of 1919. Molasses had everything to do with slave trade. Sugar cane was produced and processed into molasses by enslaved people. The enslavement led to the racial unrest and riots that would break out across the country in 1919 in Chicago, Washington, Charleston and elsewhere. Black soldiers returning home from World War I, which ended November 11, 1918, hoped and expected a degree of equality after fighting for their country. Instead, they were met with riots and lynchings. White mobs were threatened by these newly confident black men.

Explosives for the war were made by mixing molasses and ammonium nitrate. With the war over, manufacturers were stockpiling molasses to make rum before the 18^th Amendment—

Prohibition Act—could be ratified and consumption of alcohol would become illegal. Prohibition went into effect January 16, 1919. It’s of interest that there was more drinking done once it was illegal, when the saloons exclusively for men gave way to illegal speakeasies which included women.

But women were largely behind the prohibition of drinking, in order to protect their families from drunken husbands. Women were working for the 19^th Amendment—women’s suffrage—which would be passed in 1919 and ratified in 1920.

Molasses connects—race riots, war explosives, Prohibition, and women’s suffrage.

One chapter, “The Red Scare” outlines the fear of communism at this time. “Red” denotes Communism because they rallied around a red flag. A Communist government had been installed in Russia in 1917 while the U.S. has a capitalist form of government. Many Americans felt threatened by the spread of Communism.

Another chapter, “Strikes and More Strikes” describes “work stoppages in almost every field of endeavor.”

Page long “sidebars” include topics such as Immigration (then and now).“Those Opposed” speaks of the citizens who resisted the suffragists, believing that women should not vote because they belonged at home, were too emotional, too fragile, and not smart enough. “The Doubly Disenfranchised” are the African American women, who even after that ratification of the 19^th Amendment were still barred from voting by white supremacist laws. “The Harlem Renaissance” describes the blossoming of African American artists in New York City, during the Great Migration. “The Second Red Scare” tells of the 1950 Joseph McCarthy era. And others.

The photos are provocative. Detailed timelines end each chapter. At just less than 200 pages this is a fascinating historical document of not only one year, but how it changed our nation.

Patricia Hruby Powell is the author of the award-winning Josephine; Loving vs Virginia; and Struttin’ With Some Barbecue among others. She teaches community classes at Parkland. talesforallages.com

“Fountains of Silence” by Ruta Sepetys

December 8, 2019 By Patricia Hruby Powell 1 Comment

Daniel Matheson, 18 years old, visits Madrid with his oil baron father and Spanish born mother in 1957. Generalissimo Franco, the fascist dictator, has been in power since 1936 and will continue to rule until his death in 1975. Ruta Sepetys, the author of “The Fountains of Silence” (Philomel 2019) does deep research and writes historical fiction set within little-known historical events. Sepetys is considered a cross-over author meaning her books are meant for both young adults and adults.

The Matheson family is staying at the posh Madrid Castellano Hilton, once a castle. The hotel is filled with interesting characters, including Shep Van Dorn a lecherous diplomat, his reckless son Nick, the mysterious Paco Lobo and the journalist Ben. The wait staff includes the cheerful Buttons, the mean-spirited Lorenza, and the lovely Ana.

The streets are filled with Franco’s police force, called “Crows.” Any Spaniard who opposes Franco walks on thin ice. That includes Ana and her family. Her parents had been teachers and were executed by the regime for their views of education. Ana lives with her sister Julia, her brother-in-law Antonio, their infant child Lali, and her brother Rafa in the slum of Valleca. Nick Van Dorn tricks our main character, Daniel, who is a serious photographer, to visit Ana in the slum.

Not only is Ana embarrassed, it is dangerous for everyone to have Daniel’s big sleek rented Buick parked on the dirt roads along the sewage ditch of Valleca. Living on the street is Rafa’s companion, a fellow orphan, and aspiring matador, Fuga. Naïve, sweet Daniel wins over some members of the family and photographs Fuga wearing his “suit of light.” Julia is a seamstress, sewing layers of glitter and glass into the jackets and trousers of the great matadors and has borrowed this hand-me-down costume for the orphan matador. As a seamstress, “Julia’s fingers are silent narrators, embroidered with scars.”

Daniel photographs portraits of the family and arranges to give them prints. He also gets shots of the “Crows” which is terribly dangerous, a close-up of a terrified nun running with a dead baby, and eventually a shot of Franco himself. Daniel needs a great portfolio to get a scholarship to a photography school to keep him out of business school which is the only education his father will fund.

Ana and Daniel are drawn to each other, but women in Spain in 1957 cannot go on dates without a chaperone, cannot go to a restaurant or theater alone—and her family is under observation for their parents’ past. Ana says: “What similarities could he possibly see between them? Daniel can travel anywhere in the world. He is heir to an oil dynasty, lives a life of privilege, and enjoys every freedom imaginable. He can vote in an election, pray to any God of his choosing, and speak his personal feelings aloud in public.” Ana calls off the romance.

So much is amiss, including life in the orphanage where Ana’s cousin Purification works. And then Daniel’s parents adopt an infant. The Mathesons return to Texas and the story jumps to eighteen years later for its surprise ending which brings all the characters together. This reading journey is a page turner—and so informative.

“Blood Water Paint” by Joy McCullough

November 17, 2019 By Patricia Hruby Powell Leave a Comment

Artemisia’s mother died when she was twelve years old, in 1605. Artemisia could have joined a convent as a nun. Instead, she chose to grind pigment for her father’s art in “Blood Water Paint” (Dutton 2018) by Joy McCullough. Artemisia is now seventeen and paints most of her father’s paintings for which he takes credit ,in this passionate verse-story based on the life of the artist, Artemisia Gentileschi.

A handsome and famous artist, Agostino Tassi, visits her home and soon becomes her tutor. Artemisia falls in love with him and thinks he might be a way out of her father’s house—and into a world where she’ll be able to paint under her own name in a marriage with another talented artist. Unfortunately, Tassi cannot wait—and cannot take no for an answer. He rapes her. In this world where men take what they want, Artemisia must decide if she will be silent or tell the truth to the world. She says:

Why, though, does it take/a mother, daughter, sister/

for men to take/a woman at her word?

I wish men/would decide/if women are heavenly/angels on high,/

or earthbound sculptures/for their gardens/
But either way we’re beauty/for consumption.

This certainly puts one in mind of the contemporary #Metoo movement.

Artemisia is buoyed by the memory of the biblical stories her mother had told her years before. Susanna (in the Book of Daniel) was a strong woman who was accosted by two elders while bathing in her secluded garden. The elders threaten her—if she does not have sex with them, they will accuse her of meeting a young lover. Susanna will not be blackmailed. She speaks her truth and is nearly executed for it. But Daniel steps in and questions both the elders. A discrepancy is discovered in their stories. Susanna is absolved of guilt.

Artemisia cannot stay silent. With the help of her somewhat reluctant father, Artemisia accuses Tassi of rape. In court, Artemisia is accused of fornication and subjected to torture to verify her claims. For her sanity, Artemisia conjures the biblical story until the lines between herself and Susanna are blurred. She will not give up.

Artemesia thinks back to another story told by her mother—about the heroine Judith, who, with her maid, beheads the oppressing Assyrian general Holofernes to save the Jewish people.

Eventually, Artemisia will paint each of these biblical heroines, from the point of view of a woman, rather than that of a man. They will make her famous. As told in McCullough’s story, Artemisia is understandably angry, bitter, and tenacious. Young readers need to know it’s okay—it’s even good—to feel anger—and to demand justice.