Wanna Know How To Save A Whale?

Stories From The Road
October 21, 2013

How do you save a whale? Well, the answer's complicated.

I was in Richmond, Virginia October 17th as a Special Guest for the YALSA supported Teen '13. Getting there was a "lions, tigers and bears, oh my" kinda moment. Just do the substitution of car crashes, construction and D.C. gridlock. I arrived, late, but made it. Did my three minutes of who I am, what I do and why you all are cool for listening to my three minutes.

Here are some cool authors I met.

https://www.facebook.com/meg.medina.10

 
Later that night, I ate cold fried chicken with author Meg Medina (Latina Rockstar if you're sassy) at her cozy tree house of a home. Meg had offered me a spare bedroom for this Fat Angie At-Risk Summer book tour stop.

I like spare bedrooms.

Meg sat down at the breakfast bar and in all that is wonderful and direct about Meg said, "So tell me everything. How did you grow into this amazing person you are right now? You know, how did you choose this given where you started?"

Mid-chew I blurted out the immediate Amanda Cunningham story (see Meg's blog here), but it just felt off as an answer. I mean, yes, Amanda's death had a lot to do with me sitting down and cranking out Prizefighter en Mi Casa. But the who I am now. The person who came from a hard home and could've chose to quit but didn't. Instead I travel America and am coined as Wexican (whitest Mexican American), rockstar and hero by the kids I meet which has a lot to do with Fat Angie.

 And Fat Angie has a lot to do with Linda.

Linda humors me on Cinco de Mayo, 2006

I met Linda in July 2005. We both were on scholarship for the Highlights Chautaqua Writing Retreat. Prizefighter won the Delacorte Dell Yearling Award in November 2004, but I was super green to the roll with authors thing. After a fancy welcome dinner, I headed to my less than two star accommodations. Walking minus an umbrella in the pouring rain, I met Linda. Also minus an umbrella. 

Lacking a witty intro, I said, "So are you someone famous I should know?"

She said, "I don't think so. Are you?"

"I don't think so, but I think I just made an ass out of myself back there."

"How come?" she asked.

"Because I sat with a bunch of famous people who I just thought were people, but I think you're supposed to treat'em different."

She held out her hand, "I'm Linda."

"Eunice."

And so it was. Linda and Eunice. The two odd balls of the retreat.

Linda became more than my best friend. She became my family. We talked daily, and I shared everything with her. When I still resided in good 'ole Madison, WI and had to have surgery, she over nighted gormet frozen meals (minus GURD inducing red sauce) because I was alone.

She tolerated the rough years of my grieving Amanda. Let's be clear. I was a mess. She guided me to other artist in the Cincinnati, Ohio area when I moved there. She read my writing and was an excellent editor for all things that are e.E. annoying. She got me, and in time, I got the her. She was in it for the long haul. To be honest, I didn't really think I deserved long haul.

Linda worked professionally as a graphic designer and copy editor. Here are a few movie posters she did as favors for me.

film directed by Sara St. Martin-Lynne

film directed by e.E.

What her heart was invested in was writing for young people. I have never seen someone so determined to create for kids (See her blog). When Maggie's Monkeys sold to Candlewick Press, I bought her a pink monkey at an airport. She proudly used it in her school visits and book appearances.

When I had surgery in Cincinnati in 2008 and was under for six hours, she was the first person in my room. When I thought I couldn't stay on the planet, she mirrored back my better truth. That's a gift in this world. No doubt, sincerely.

quotepix.com

My birthday rolled around (December 1st if you're sassy). I was in a creative slump. I wanted to ditch Fat Angie because my agent red inked the life out of it. Not really, but I was being a brat about it.

I drop in at Linda's house, and she pulls out a large white shirt box from beneath her desk. I open the box, pull back the tissue paper and there it was. The hoodie of all hoddies. It was a navy blue beauty with a bulging bicep hornet staring back at me. It was the official logo from the Fat Angie draft.

"You know I love hoodies," I said. "That's just plain dirty."

She smiled and said, "Now finish the book. It's gonna change lives."

"I duhno. You know? Andrea doesn't get it."

"Finish it. It matters. And it is good or she wouldn't have bled all over it."

I flipped the hoodie over, and Linda had left nothing to chance. On the back was the number forty-seven. For Fat Angie fans, you'll know why having her sister's basketball jersey number on the hoodie was an icing on the cake kinda moment.

"If I ever sell it, I'm gonna dedicate it to you," I said. "You know that right?"

"I don't need that."

Hoodie seen with Fat Angie Book Tour At-Risk Summer

I finished a necessary revision of the book, and sent it to my then agent who is now managing editor and publisher at Egmont USA Andrea Cascardi. In late January 2011, Linda discovered she had Cancer.

First thought? I can't do this again. I can't lose another best friend.

Of course, I'd make it about what I was losing. What about Linda? Possibly not seeing her daughter graduate high school. Leave her partner of twenty-plus years who had faced a near death Cancer experience a few months prior. Never see another Christmas or New Years? Never and more never and more -- stop!

I had to stop. Stop what I had made about me and what she might lose.

What you need to know is that I'm not good at the death gig. For a long time, I wasn't good at the showing up gig either. But you see, Linda's different. She's a stand-up gal if I've ever known one. She had so much room for my absolute weirdness. She had kindness. 

Bottom line: I knew I couldn't skip out.

For once, I had to show up for Linda. I had to be there. And I didn't do it perfect, but I did it. I was there when it counted. I had the hard conversations. I wanted to understand not only what it meant to be dying but what it meant to live.

Linda was the strongest, bravest and most stubborn person I have ever met. She held into the last days even when hospice came. She was going to beat her Cancer. Her mind riddled with tumors. Her body frail and thin. She was still Linda. But less than eight months after the diagnosis, Linda died.

She died on October 21, 2011.
It was approximately 6:00 pm.
I was in her bedroom with her partner Howard and daughter Abbie when she exhaled.

I promised that I wouldn't leave her ... that I would stay to the very end. She didn't think I would, but I did. I did because Linda had taught me how to show up.

I did dedicate Fat Angie to Linda.
I have had the hoodie on the Fat Angie book tour.
I share her life, sarcastic humor and kindness with others daily.

Today is October 21, 2011. For the astrology peeps, it is Mercury Retrograde. For others, it is the day Facebook fried out for a few hours. For a good friend in Texas, it is her birthday. For me, it is the day I remember the life of Linda Sanders-Wells. A woman who believed that one book could change lives. And from the trenches of this book tour, I can tell you she was right.

So you wanna know how to save a whale. The answer's complicated. It really has nothing to do with this blog, and it kinda does. I trust you'll figure it out. Just know ...

There was a woman. Her name was Linda Sanders. 

She changed my life.

I love you, Linda. Shine on!

photo by C.G. Watson

Why A.S. King Is My Long Lost Sister

Some things are a given in life. Who you are, where you're from and that you've embarrassed yourself at least once over a boy band. FYI, mine was New Kids On The Block.

Work That Tough, NKOTB!

Now when you're adopted, the details might be a little spotty. For example, I know that my mother's name is Virginia Trujillo. She lived in Corpus Christi, Texas in 1973 and my grandparents were definitely on the Catholic.

But that's where the narrative hits a crash and burn for the most. The rest is deduction.

For example, here's me in junior high.

Band Trip To Aquarena Springs

 Here's me now.

Suspicious Of Her Glasses

Not a whole lot has changed. I'm still the whitest Mexican American in America. The REACH kids in Red Bluff, CA adorned me with the nickname Wexican. Peace and love to them for one on the original scale!

I also have a lot of those annoying attributes from childhood. I beat on desks and pretend I'm the drummer from Kiss (life long aspiration). I wear backwards ball caps. My friend California Sara refers to me as the female Kevin Smith. I got respect for the Smith (holla Clerks and Red State), and I guess I dress like him sometimes minus the beard and height challenge.

The other thing is that I have a brother. See Kurt lived with my folks and me when I was in my senior year of high school. I had him imported, literally, from a group called Youth For Understanding. I thought I might land some 1980's teen comedy of a boyfriend. X-nay on that one. He comes off the plane from Belgium to Corpus Christi, Texas with his arms all wide and on the open and says, "Sister!"

Kurt First Week In U.S.

Can I tell you how not into him I was. I selfishly battled for cool points with my beyond cool new brother and my friends. The battle was futile. He spoke seven languages, sang and danced like the thin Elvis and was smart extreme. Consequently, he could date any girl I'd thought about dating since I was twelve, but I couldn't come out in 1991 small-town South Texas.

Kurt was my nemesis. Though when life hit the skids, and I ended up in a suicide watch think tank in May 1992, he was the only one who came to visit me. Not my adopted parents. Just Kurt. And even though I was a jerk supreme to him, he showed and was counted. Well sorta. I mean, I was 18 and hated the world then.

Kurt is the only family I've ever had aside from my friends, and I am grateful to have this Build Your Own Family. Sorta like Build a Bear without the awkward stuffing.

 

Seriously, this video exists.

Wait. So what does any of this have to do with multiple award-winning author (Michael Printz Honoree hollar!) A.S. King.

Yup, Cool Author Headshot Thingy

Well, I met with A.S. (Amy if you're sassy) in Pennsylvania to interview her for the FAT ANGIE book tour documentary At-Risk Summer. She opens the door and welcomes me to the chaos that is a new home, new central air and a laptop that has ants crawling on it. They're actually stickers but very much on the life like.

We immediately connect with some colorful language, her having a tripod because mine is on a UPS truck somewhere and the fact that she is, by far, one of the coolest gals I have ever met. Seriously, you gotta know this woman.

But I digress. So ... we do the interview (yes, video clip coming) and laugh and have game face and laugh again and make references to everything and nothing. As I like to say, not too shabby.

I decide after sharing the best burger I have EVER eaten in all of America and many countries in Europe (see photo of delicious below)

http://www.abcbrew.com/brewpubs/lititz/

that she is my long lost sister. Even though she has other siblings, I welcome her into my tribe. Remember I haven't formally told her this, so we'll all need to keep it on the down low. Don't want her to think I'm gonna go all Single White Female and dye my hair blonde (not comb it) and wear black long sleeve Tees all the time. Although I did go through a black wardrobe phase but that was way early 1990's.

But again, I digress. Without further ado, here are my ...

Top 10 Reasons A.S. King Is My Long Lost Sister

10. We both should've been cast members of TV series Freaks And Geeks.
9. We dig Blondie and The Knack, and it will keep us in a restaurant long after closing time.
8. We both have stellar ink on our forearms.
7. We both played some hard core hoop (nuthin' but rim, kid)!
6. Our dark sense of humor can be matched by few, as Pete the waiter at ABC Brewery can attest.
5. I can say, "Sh*! just got real in the Ford Focus," and she'll totally get it.
4. We write raw, edgy and truth filled YA lit.
3. We both get why Lynda Carter is the only Wonder Woman and the power of the Lasso of Truth.
2. We both started writing to tell a story without the intention of being published because we had to write.
1. We both get why life is hard, find humor in its darkness and embrace the possibility of empowering youth through art.

We reluctantly share the CPA Award (Coolest Person Alive) via Twitter, and I'm guessing real CPA's are super pissed. #lolcpaanger

Ultimately, with all the lessons on this tour, I'm elated that I met an author who is tenacious, tender, tough and troublemaker extraordinaire. She reminded me like Cecil Castellucci did that is is okay to be all the edges that is your weird and powerful self. Thanks for the memories, A.S. King. Here's to your book release of Reality Boy this October. And to the fact that this should've been the cast photo for Freaks And Geeks!

http://youtu.be/wdUCGiF-yaA

Fair View High (Rock The Word)

Stories From The Road
September 18, 2013

Falcons Soar!

The world is different at Fair View High. The kids there are a community or working toward one. There, the so-called couldn't-cut-it/high school rejects congregate to elevate each others connection to education ... to life. The focus isn't on cliques or sports or social standing. At least not by any measure I witnessed during my time there. It's about a human experience. An honest experience. It's about being real. Not to mention they get to use language, well, let's say with fluidity from time to time.

And this is what you need to know right off the rip. My life is now changed from meeting these students.
Yes, my life. And that's a selfish statement, but I'm down with some selfish given that I also changed some lives at Fair View High School.

I had two periods of something like 65-75 kids in total. English classes. Kids who don't always like to write. Kids who don't choose to engage much. Kids who have been counted out.

I said to the students, "I've been counted out more than I've been counted in. I get it. I get how that happens. I'm traveling America meeting with kids like you because I don't think you should be counted out. You matter. You have something to say. And that's what we're gonna do today."

And we did!

Wait.

Moment of digression.

Not Actual Hoodie

There's a kid in an orange hoodie, we'll call him Mr. Mic because he volunteered to help run Sound for me. And trust me, I needed the help. I'm down to a $147 dollars in my bank account and a few hundred on my credit card. A film crew is a luxury I can't afford, but documenting the process is non-negotiable. These stories have to be seen as well as heard. Especially if I have any hopes of this becoming something bigger.

So back to Mr. Mic. The guy's terrific. Seriously. He's funny and engaged and makes me sound good (wink on the latter). He's also got a story like all the kids at Fair View do. The not so cozy story. Inked into his right forearm is cursive, tattooed lettering. He recounts during our "get to know you" moment how an English teacher at a traditional school reacted when she saw the ink. You know, the book and cover judge thing. But Mr. Mic is solid, you know. I'm sure he's made his mistakes. But he's trying.

Not Mr. Mic's Actual Arm

As for the class, we do an exercise/activity/word fun thingy on the dry erase board. It begins with a series of words. Words generated by the students. Any words. The idea is to excite them into creating writing as a community of storytellers. Words like these in black:

Screen Grab From Actual Clas

Then I take those words and "spit" them back with a narrative I spin on the spot.

 SELECT 1080P from Quality Icon For Best Quality

Without going to far into the logistics of what we do next, the educational components and so on, just know that by the end, we all rock the word!

credit to Shirley Maya

The other thing I need you to get about these teens at Fair View High School is their vocabulary roars at college level. Their curiosity for knowledge is raw and rich and deep. They've got heart when life has most likely tried to stomp, kick and punch it the hell outta them.

They are survivors learning how to live.

They are the reason there is FAT ANGIE. They are the reason for FEELS LIKE HOME and PRIZEFIGHTER EN MI CASA. They are the reason this tour continues.

By the end of the first class, I throw up a prompt on the dry erase. I then tell them, "Writing is freedom. You can do anything -- be anything -- say anything on the page. You are not restricted to someone's idea of what you are/should/must be. You are free."

Unlike traditional high school's, all of these kids take out paper and a pen or pencil.
All of these kids try.
So do I.

A guy in the back of the room, we'll call him Mr. Quiet, catches my eye. He shapes into his over sized baggy white tee in the shoulders and finishes with starched khaki pants. The sparkle of his diamond ear rings catch a glint off the florescent lights. He's a Mexican American I knew growing up. Seen too much and not heard he was special enough.

"Mr. Quiet," I say to him. "I think you have something to say today."

It takes him a beat to realize he's Mr. Quiet.

His eyes drop. His head shakes. I don't push it.

"It's all good, no worries."

I move toward another part of the classroom when I see a hand go up out of my peripheral. It's Mr. Quiet.

"Yes?" I say.

"I'll go. I'll read."

His voice is soft not scary. There's a heart inside that baggy white tee. It's bigger than I can describe and that's kinda my job. Guess you have to see him on video to know.

Mr. Mic and I make our way to the absolute back of the classroom. I set the camera in place and Mr. Mic kneels. Mr. Quiet works hard to read aloud. This is not his comfort zone, but he does it.

When he's done, I grin and ask if I can shake his hand. He takes a moment to test the temperature on my offer and realizes I'm serious. I respect Mr. Quiet more than you know. The guy took a risk. He talked hard and let his voice be heard. And his classmates applauded and it was a fantastic day to be alive!

Through out my time there, I engaged with a variety of races, gender (and gender identified), ages and backgrounds. They all have their own story that exceeds the time for this post. However, their personal stories and creative ones are distinct, necessary, moving and ever emerging.

The world is a hard place for these kids. All of them. The transgendered kids or pregnant teens or social inept or incarcerated -- the misfits and rejects as it has been written. But I would tell you that these are the kids we should never count out. To believe in them, gives us an outside the box perspective of what the face of change can be. While they've got a lot stacked against them, they've got so much going for them.

They are, after all, survivors learning to live.

Thanks for the creativity, laughter and truth, Fair View High School. Your teachers love what you are and want to see you be your own version of your very best. Because you ABSOLUTELY matter!

Stand up and be counted!

YouTube Link of e.E. : http://youtu.be/qZTv_VPQS4s

Should The Above Video Not Play