Cynthia is a New York Times bestselling author known for her award-winning children’s and YA books. She writes both realistic contemporary stories and fantastical narratives, and most recently, she won the American Indian Youth Literature YA Award for Hearts Unbroken published by Candlewick.

Today we’ll be discussing one of her most recent projects: Ancestor Approved: Intertribal Stories for kids, a Middle Grade anthology published by Heartdrum, a Native-focused imprint at HarperChildren’s where Cynthia is the author-curator. In addition to her work in publishing, she is also on the faculty of the MFA program in Writing for Children and Young Adults at Vermont College of Fine Arts. She is a citizen of Mvskoke Nation and makes her home in Austin, Texas.

In this episode Cynthia and I discuss:

• How the lack of Native representation in Middle Grade books inspired Cynthia’s writing and the impetus for Heartdrum.
• What elements are important to include when writing specifically for Middle Graders and how MG is distinct from YA.
• Why it’s important to create an inclusive feeling  of a “we” not “me” book within diverse literature.

Plus, her #1 tip for writers.

About Cynthia Leitich Smith

New York Times bestselling author Cynthia Leitich Smith is known for her award-winning children’s and YA realistic contemporary and fantastical books. Most recently, she won the American Indian Youth Literature YA Award for Hearts Unbroken, published by Candlewick, and she looks forward to the release of Ancestor Approved: Intertribal Stories for Kids, a Middle Grade anthology published by Heartdrum.

Cynthia is the author-curator of Heartdrum, a Native-focused imprint at HarperChildren’s and on the faculty of the MFA program in Writing for Children’s and Young Adults at Vermont College of Fine Arts. She’s a citizen of Mvskoke Nation and makes her home in Austin, Texas.

You can find Cynthia on her website or follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or LinkedIn. 

Ancestor Approved: Intertribal Stories for Kids

A collection of intersecting stories set at a powwow that bursts with hope, joy, resilience, the strength of community, and Native pride.

In a high school gym full of color and song, Native families from Nations within the borders of the U.S. and Canada dance, sell beadwork and books, and celebrate friendship and heritage. They are the heroes of their own stories.

Featured contributors: Joseph Bruchac, Art Coulson, Christine Day, Eric Gansworth, Dawn Quigley, Carole Lindstrom, Rebecca Roanhorse, David A. Robertson, Andrea L. Rogers, Kim Rogers, Cynthia Leitich Smith, Monique Gray Smith, Traci Sorell, Tim Tingle, Erika T. Wurth, and Brian Young.

If you decide to check out the book, we hope you’ll do so via this Amazon affiliate link, where if you choose to purchase via the link DIY MFA gets a referral fee at no cost to you. As always, thank you for supporting DIY MFA!

(Right-click to download.)

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Until next week, keep writing and keep being awesome!

The post Episode 346: Curating a Middle Grade Anthology of Intertribal Stories – Interview with Cynthia Leitich Smith appeared first on DIY MFA.

I bought ‘American Sunrise’ on Audible first, by accident, but I am so glad I did. Usually, I prefer hard copies for poetry books so I can underline at my leisure, and to stop at a particular passage to think about what and how they’ve written something.

American Sunrise is narrated by Joy herself, and while I encourage people to buy the hard copy too, hearing her speak her own poems in her own voice is a delicious indulgence. I cannot overlay my white perspective on top of her melodious, sometimes haunting intonations. Her voice turns her words into birds that fly over me too high to reach.

The Trail of Tears

I had never heard of The Trail of Tears. Maybe it is because I’m Canadian by birth, or because I’m white, or because my privileged education did not have the courage to embrace all of our history both cruel and horrifying.

The first few poems immediately pull me into the mud and bafflement of being thrown out of my own home, on my own land. Of having my children taken from me and forced to learn about a strange god in a foreign language, their homemade clothes suddenly not good enough. The trail of tears and everything that went along with it is a grief-rupture that is carried along ancestral DNA from parent to child. It is difficult to sit through. And it is not theirs alone to endure. If 2020 has taught me nothing else it is that no community suffers in isolation. What affects one will spread to the other. We are all connected. Hurt never stays contained within the one holding it.

Standing Witness

The imagery gives me chills –  the line from “How to Write a Poem in a Time of War”, ‘The torn pocket of your daughters home made dress…’ makes me want to cry and I am not a crier. I am a mother though, and this line makes me want to fight, and cry, then fight-cry.

In the past I would have stopped reading. I would tell myself this is hard, and you’ve had enough hard in your own life, and there is nothing to be done about it now. But this is 2021 and I am still alive and so I don’t turn away, feeling like it is my duty. It is my personal responsibility to both our ancestors to stand witness to her pain. And there is pain. There is grief. There is also this strange and wild voice threaded throughout her poetry, startling me like birds taking flight abruptly. 

Startling because it feels familiar. And even though I do not have even a ghost of a similar experience to relate to, even though this is the first time I am hearing these stories from her grandmothers, I find an echo of my own pain in hers, a glimmer of shared human suffering. Her poetry calls for us to stand still for a moment and listen to what was lost.

Humor connects us quickly but it is a light touch. A lover’s graze. This deep mourning, this sharing of her grief through poetry is a mother’s birth travails. There is hurt you don’t think you’re going to survive, and there are tears. In the end there is a love that shatters you more completely than suffering ever could. 

Shovels of Grief

She doesn’t shy away from the heavy topics, the thoughts we try not to think. In her poem “Singing Everything”, she reminds us that ‘For death, those are the heaviest songs. They have to be pried from the earth by shovels of grief.’

When you think you’re just reading a Joy Harjo poem and then the words slant sideways and winnow down deep inside your being to a sacred, secret place you are surprised to find is there. 

And it blooms, awakens, shoots out like a fire-cracker lilly back into the poem that birthed it and you are connected as surely as to a telephone line. You are never the same. This is the wonder of poetry in general and the skill of Harjo in particular.

As usual, Rumi said it better than I ever could:

Cry Easily

Keep your intelligence white-hot

And your grief glistening,

So your life will stay fresh.

Cry easily like a little child.

And so, I think I will cry. And then maybe dance a little, just like in her poem “Seven Generations.” I’ll dance and cry, and hold space for the relief of grief. 

Angela Yeh hails from Atlantic Canada but lives and works in Texas – after her liberal arts degree she wandered into Corporate America but managed to escape. She is a staunch advocate for writers and literacy/learning with her online writing community at DIYMFA.com. She also teaches a love of creative gardening to pre-k kids in her physical community. She lives with her husband, two lovely human children, and two cranky fur babies. You can check her out on Insta – @thatpluckygirl or at her website, www.thepluckycanadian.com

The post A Dance of Joy and Tears appeared first on DIY MFA.