In the meantime. . .

I made my deadline last week . . . well, sort of. I shipped all but a few spreads to HarperCollins, with a promise that the remainder of the art would straggle in over the next few weeks. I felt terrible, but the art director reassured me it was okay, that actually I was "on time" compared to delivery of art by many other artists.

Since I'll be knee-deep in painting for the next few weeks, no telling when I'll be posting here again. So in the meantime, I wanted to help spread the word about a new picture book by writer friend, Chris Barton. His book, The Day-Glow Brothers, released this month to rave reviews and much buzz over the kidlitosphere. In particular, I'd like to direct you to a feature about him and his book on Cynsations. And they're giving books away! Check it out.

And if you're in Austin next weekend, July 11, drop in to BookPeople where the official launch of The Day-Glow Brothers will take place. See you there.

The King of Pop meets the King of Kings

Michael Jackson is dead. For me, the headlines haven't quite registered yet. Over the last few years of his life, he generated so many bizarre headlines, this simply seems like another one. Unfortunately, this will be his ultimate.

I wish I had more time to write about him, but I don't. So I share this simple cartoon that I quickly drew this morning.

You'll notice I chose to portray the Michael that I grew up with. The brown skin Michael with hair like mine. I never really accepted his change. I drew this image from memory. I didn't use reference. This is the image of Michael Jackson that is burned into my memory forever.

I miss writing

I've been feeling kind of bummed-out lately. I'm in the final stages of painting a book, and as much as I love, love, love, drawing and painting, the last few weeks before a big book deadline is simply not very much fun. Paint, paint, paint, nonstop, nothing else. No writing, no working out, no family, equals stress. And yes, I’m very grouchy, as my wife will attest.

I miss writing and blogging terribly. I haven't posted here or written on my other, super secret, blog in awhile. Writing had become stress relief because I did it for fun, without the worry of whether it appealed to a gatekeeper — an editor, agent, book buyer. And while it sometimes crossed the line — edgy big-time — people tuned in anyway.

This morning, I Googled my old blog, which lead me to a tribute from an apparent reader. It really lifted my spirits (Note: I deleted the blog name from the following quote):

"When we were told to read one of the two blogs written by an African American, I was immediately drawn to Xxxxxx Xxxx's blog. Not only is he a talented writer, he is a cartoonist. I think that is a main reason why the majority of the class read his blog.

Xxxxxx Xxxx talks about issues from buying $70 popcorn from a Cub Scout to the presidential election. I sat reading his blog for literally an hour. His posts are easy to read, because they are short and sweet. I noticed from the comments being left, that he has a strong connection with his audience. Xxxxxx Xxxx does not ask questions to lure in comments, instead his readers are interested in his everyday occurrences. I think a lot of people can relate to Xxxxxx Xxxx, that's why he gets several comments on his blog. He has a funny and sarcastic personality which makes his blog more enjoyable to read. The pictures, videos, and cartoons included in his blog are hilarious.

My attention was immediately grabbed. After reading one post, I wanted to keep reading further and further. His opinions may be controversial but they bring up good discussion amongst the readers.

And another reader said this:

"I agree with you. Xxxxxx Xxxxx's blog was hilarious and he did a good job of connecting with the reader. He is very easy to relate to even though I'm not a parent. It was really interesting to see how his personality as a blogger developed throughout his entire blog."

Thanks a lot, whoever you are. I love writing for children, but what I discovered about myself through the journey of having that blog, is that I love writing for adults more. Maybe I should polish off a few of those old post, and see if I could get them published as a collection of humorous essays and cartoons that would appeal to adults. Hm.

My final visit of 2008-'09 rocked!

I just returned from a school visit at Great Oaks Elementary, in Round Rock, Texas. Their music and arts program (MAE Day), is an annual end-of-the-year program, and the kids were very excited.

I spoke to the entire student body in three groups — 7 classes of 4th-graders; 13 classes of kindergarten and 1st-graders; and 15 classes of 2nd- and 3rd-graders. Following the last presentation, an unplanned autograph session broke out. My son, who'd acted disinterested all morning and sat unimpressed in a corner, suddenly came to life and became my spokesman. He answered questions intended for me, and then whispered in my ear that I hadn't mentioned him enough during my presentations. He corrected that.

One student was so impressed, she asked my son for his autograph, too. Suddenly, everyone wanted his autograph, so he proudly signed along with me. It was so funny to see my son standing there surrounded by a bunch of 3rd-grade girls, with their arms extended to him for a signature.

I almost forgot that schools no longer teach cursive writing. The kids were so impressed that my son — same age as them — could sign his name neatly in cursive! Many of the students complimented him on his beautiful writing.

This was my son's first time visiting a public school, and I worried. My son attends a small Christian school, with a student body of about 215 students total. His school has two 2nd-grade classes and one 3rd-grade class. His school has a tiny library. There is no gymnasium at all, and the students wear uniforms. I worried he'd feel like he was missing out on something. But afterwards when I asked if he'd like to attend a public school, where he could wear his favorite street clothes and the desired mohawk, he responded with a resounding "no!" He liked the school and the kids, no doubt. But I think he was overwhelmed by the number of kids.

This was my last school visit for the 2008-09 school year. I'm looking forward to returning to schools in the fall, though I've decided to change my program. I use my original art at these presentations, and the pieces have taken quite a beating. Eventually I'd like to sell a few pieces, maybe exhibit them somewhere, but can't happen if they're dinged-up and torn.

Award scare

So I receive a congratulatory email from an old coworker about Ron's Big Mission having won a Boston Globe Horn Book Honor. I about fall out my chair. But then I realize, Ron's Big Mission hasn't won a Boston Globe Horn Book award . . . that I know of.

I click on the link in her email, which takes me to the Cary Memorial Library in Massachusetts. And she's right, Ron's Big Mission is listed as a 2008 winner! I about fall out my chair again. But I'm disappointed, too. You mean, my book received an honor award last year and no one told me about it?

But something doesn't add up. I go to the Horn Book website and there isn't any mention of Ron's Big Mission. In addition, the book published this past January. Not in 2008. Was the honor given before publication?

I spend the better part of the evening searching this on the internet, before I finally come to the conclusion that a mistake has been made.

Bummer.

Unless, of course . . . well, okay, probably not.

Painting, painting, painting Effa

Novel inspiration from an old friend and days gone by

Every now and then, I Google the names of my friends from high school and college. Most of the time, I never find anyone. But today, I found the name of my very best high school buddy, Jimmie M.*

I was elated when I saw his name, but I was saddened to discover that, three years ago, he was sentenced to a twenty-five year prison term for conspiring to deliver a controlled substance, a Class B felony. Although his name is common, I knew it was him. He was a small-time drug dealer in high school, our school's main supplier. Guess he never gave that up.

To this day, I don't know how I, the shiest — and probably the most timid — kid in high school, ended up best friends with one of the most notorious kids. But I was. In fact, it was Jimmie who gave me the nickname Devas T. (devastate-ing) that I use on this blog.

Jimmie was popular. Whatever the goings-on at school, Jimmie was at the center. If there was a fight, Jimmie was in it. The big story of the day, Jimmie was the subject. A rumor, it was about Jimmie. Everyone knew and loved him, and even though most of the student body was self-segregated racially, Jimmy was just as popular with the white kids as he was with the blacks. I wasn't popular. In the mornings and between classes, when Jimmie and the cool kids hung out in the hallways, I took the side stairwells and hid out in my art or photography classes.

Jimmie had a nice car. He leaned hard in a burnt, cherry red, '69 "Stang" with hot-rod rims and black leather, bucket, seats. Later, after his older brother died in a car accident, he inherited a large sum of money, and his parents let him buy a used Monte Carlo. He gangsta'd it out with gold-spoke rims and black tinted windows. His car was the talk of the school, and when I was in it, I leaned just as hard as he did (leaning was what you did to be cool -- lean down in the seat, on the arm rest, as far down as possible). When I wasn't riding shotgun in Jimmie's car, I drove an old Plymoth Duster that I purchased from a junkyard for $300. It ran off-and-on, occasionally.

Jimmie was a player, too. He had so many girl friends, he didn't know half their names. Girls would carry his books for him to classes, and oftentimes they would do his homework. He would throw his arms around a group of girls in the hallway, and call himself a pimp. He bragged to me about things he would do with them late at night, but since we usually hung out after school, and worked a burger joint together at night, I couldn't figure out when he had time to do all that stuff. I had a couple of girl friends, too, here and there. But never the harem that Jimmy had following him through the hallways.

We had nothing in common, really, but for whatever reason, we stuck together like tape our entire four years in high school (back then, high school was 9th through 12th grade).

When I think back to the situations I allowed myself to get into hanging with Jimmie, it scares me. It's only by grace that I didn't end up in jail myself in high school, or worse yet, dead.

After graduation, Jimmie and I went our separate ways. With his good grades and inheritance, he attended a big name, predominately, Black college in the south. I stayed home and went to a local community college, mostly on Pell Grants. He was in school less than a year before he dropped out. I was excited when I found out he had returned home, but disappointed when he didn't contact me. Turned out, he was hanging with a group of guys I'd have been much too scared to hang out with anyway.

When we finally did get together, I noticed something had changed in Jimmie. He had hardened. I don't know what kind of people — or substances — he had gotten himself mixed up with while away in college, but he wasn't the same person I'd known all those years.

It would be another 10 years before I crossed paths with Jimmie again. I was at the mall with my young daughter when I saw him from a distance. As he approached, I called out his name and waved to get his attention. I was ready to catch up, maybe even repair our friendship. But his eyes were like ice. Even though we were face to face, I wasn't sure if he saw me. He appeared to look right through me. I looked away and kept walking.

Excuse me for blogging off topic, but recalling my old friend and long-gone high school experiences, I think I may have found that bit of inspiration that's been lacking, that something I needed in order to pick up and resume working my novel (after I finish painting the Effa story).

*name changed, of course.

My unintentional April tour report

Whew! The past month has been a whir wind. I painted, presented, spoke, traveled and signed books — and did it all on only an ounce of sleep. I've had a ball, but I'm tired, I'm out of shape, and my throat is so sore. In normal everyday life, I don't talk much, so I think I've strained my vocal chords.

Since the first of April, I've traveled to Houston, Corpus Christi, Dallas, and Charlotte, N.C. In total, I've given approximately 30 presentations. All of the events were special to me, each in a different way. But I am especially giddy having participated in the first African American Children's Book Writer's and Illustrators conference in Charlotte.

The conference was inspiring, healing, uplifting, life-changing. There was something magic about attending a conference made up of children's writers and illustrators who share a common experience: The African American experience.

Pictured above is my aunt, Eleanora E. Tate, author of Celeste's Harlem Renaissance, and me. Here are a few more pictures from the past few weeks:


















The African American Children's Book Writers and Illustrators conference was small — less than 60 attendees — but folks were so excited, and at times, emotional. Take note of the two male attendees. They were given special recognition prizes. . . lol!

Eileen Robinson, of F1rstPages, and Sara Ketchersid, senior editor with Caldlewick Press, discuss what makes Where The Wild Things Are the perfect picture book.









Lovely and elegant, Kelly Starling Lyons, author of One Million Men and Me, conducts a breakout session.










Scholarly and commanding, Christine Taylor-Butler, author of No Boys Allowed! holds class. Her hands-on discussion was about editing your manuscript.










My session was mainly geared toward the illustrators. I talked about my path to publication, and how I've slowly evolved into the illustrator I am today. The point I was trying to drive home is that you have to persist in this business, and that it doesn't always happen overnight, like it may seem to happen for others.


Other presenters, who I don't have photos of, include Karen Stong, who also served as moderator for the conference, and whose class act kept things flowing smoothly.






Books, books, books, by and about African Americans. Our numbers may be small proportionally in this business, but compared to twenty years ago, the numbers have grown. One conference attendee made the point that when she was a kid, there weren't many books with characters that look like her. But today, that's simply not true, and that we shouldn't be so quick to complain.




















The day before the conference, I presented to the entire student body of Windsor Park Elementary. I was just as excited to be there as the kids were to have me there. I'd never presented in N.C. The kids wrote letters and made these gifts for me.









The remaining pictures are from the Dallas Children's Book and Literary Festival and the Corpus Christi Children's Book Festival:

The Dallas Book and Literary Festival

Yesterday morning at the Dallas Children's Book and Literary Festival, authors, illustrators, city leaders, organizers and supporters shared breakfast with approximately 2000 kids, who had been invited especially because of their high grades, good behavior and overall performance in school. Authors and illustrators were encouraged to spread out and mix with the kids while eating.

I sat with a group of young men and women from A.W. Brown Charter School. They were approximately 8 to 11 years old. I was there to inspire them. But they inspired me.

When young African American males make the news, it's usually because they did something bad. In movies and on TV, they are often portrayed as thugs. Heck, let's be honest, many African American males celebrate that thuggish image, perpetuated by rappers and the hip-hop culture.

But the young men and women I shared breakfast with were none of that! Like the 1972 Nina Simone song, they were Young, Gifted and Black. These young men made me proud. They were articulate, smart, mannerly, courteous, funny. They engaged me in conversation. Asked intelligent questions. They talked about their career aspirations, which included computer programming and engineering. And in addition to rap and hip-hop, musical interest included old-school R&B, jazz, techno, heavy metal and country. "Everything except opera," one kid said, making me laugh.

These kids were not forced to be at this festival. They enthusiastically celebrated literature, discussed their favorite books, danced, sang, answered questions—wow! They were great.

The students came to the festival dressed in their finest clothes — suits and ties, dresses and bows, polished shoes. I wore jeans. Next time, I'm dressing up for them.

This isn't to forget the wonderful festival I attended on Friday in Corpus Christi. There I presented to about 1200 kids, in 10-minute sessions. By the time the day was over, I'd made about 25 back-to-back presentations, and then followed it up with a school visit. I absolutely love the people of the Corpus Christi library system.

Illustrating and conferencing, but no blogging (probably)

Now is when things are going to get stressful. I'm already halfway through April, and I have so much to accomplish before the first of May.

To keep on schedule, in the next two weeks, I need to finish three spreads for Effa, a picture book for HarperCollins. So far, I'm happy with how the illustrations are shaping up. But I need to stop and begin working on my keynote for the AACBWI conference coming up in two weeks.

In addition, this coming Thursday and Friday, I'll be in the Corpus Christi Book Festival, which will involve a school visit on Friday afternoon. Friday evening, I'll take a plane to Dallas, and then on Saturday I'll be in a Children's Book and Literary Festival there.

But that's not all. I have several other little projects in the works, not to mention I'd like to contribute in some way to The Brown Bookshelf. So if I'm incognito over the next few weeks, you now know why.

I'll still be Twittering and FaceBooking, however, because micro-blogging doesn't take up too much time.

************
In other news: The celebration at BookPeople today, with Kathi Appelt and Cynthia Leitich Smith was very nice. Each author introduced the other. They showed trailers of their books, Eternal and The Underneath. Then they interviewed each other and read letters from their readers. A very warm, well attended event. I'm glad I was there.

A family piece

This is a small portion of a painting that I just finished. It was commissioned by Nance Galleries. This was one of the toughest pieces I've ever created because I'm more of a commercial artist, and this is a fine art piece.

I've never done a fine art piece before, at least not that I know of. I'm used to creating art for a specific purpose — art for an advertisement, a book, art to be reproduced and resold as a product. But art for the sake of art?— shoot, I got bills to pay.

In this case, the only boundaries were that it had to be family related. Beyond that, I could do whatever I wanted. I got stuck. The folks at the gallery had seen some of the images posted at THE BEST KID IN THE WORLD, and suggested that I paint my family. So that's what I did.

Keep in mind, I have two adult daughters who, when they read this, will completely take this the wrong way. I didn't intentionally leave you out, girls. This isn't meant to be a literal portrait of my family (though it does kind of look like us); I was going for composition here. One man hugging three grown women and a little boy simply wouldn't work.

I scanned the art and am considering offering prints at a later date.

As of tomorrow, I will be working the Effa Manley story, full time until July.

Back to the grind following TLA09

I had a ball the past few days, mixing it up with librarians, authors, editors, publishers at the Texas Library Association conference in Houston. My signing on Thursday with Penguin went well; almost every copy sold. I signed again on Friday with Texas Overlooked Books, where I sat alongside the talented Rob Espinosa.

Here are a few highlights:

— Chris Barton's contagious enthusiasm about the field of children's publishing, and especially about his forthcoming book, The Day-Glow Brothers. Chris wore that excitement all over his being-- figuratively and literally speaking. I hope he'll still hang out with us once he goes big-time.

— Getting mobbed by six librarians, three minutes upon entering the exhibit hall the first day. (I think it was the "author" name badge).

—The disabled guy who rode the exhibit floor with copies of my artwork hanging from the front and back of his cart. I didn't stop and tell him I was the artist.

— Drinks with my roomies and Mark Nobleman. Mark is the author of Boys of Steel.

— Sharing drinks with my August House editor, Liz Parkhurst and author Toni Simmons (whose book I will begin illustrating later this year). Also present were a host of August House authors and storytellers, including Tom McDermott. I hope Liz wasn't disappointed; I am not the outgoing humorist as one might assume from reading my Facebook updates.

— Getting celebrity treatment from the wonderful folks at Penguin.

— Turning a perfectly ruinous lunch fiasco with Diane Roberts, Sue Ward and Chris Barton into a totally fun time (long story).

— Testing out my new GPS Navitator, which impressed the heck out of Kathy Duval and Varian Johnson, who followed in a car behind mine. No one — including myself — knew how to get where were going for dinner. But the navigator got us there.

— Meeting two of the ReaderGirlz Divas. How did I ever miss Justina?!

— Having a librarian spill coffee on me during the Black Caucus breakfast, and then having her invite me to speak at four of her schools in May.

— Having Dr. Loriene Roy go over-and-beyond to get a last-minute seat for me at the Black Caucus breakfast.

— Getting lost on my way to the Black Caucus breakfast, and then getting directions from a librarian, who turned out to be the outgoing President. She expressed her interest in having me speak at next year's breakfast.

— Chatting with friend, author Spelile Rivas, who was at the publishers reception — not as an author, but as a librarian! Huge career change she's made since we last spoke. Good for her!

For fear of leaving someone out, I won't even try to list everyone I ran into. But it was so nice to see and chat and celebrate with the wonderful group of people that make up the children's literature community in Texas.

P.S. I lugged my camera around that conference for three days, and did not take one picture. Duh. Which explains the photo of my exhibitors badge.

Tweeting from TLA

Well it's that time of year. Time to mix it up with Texas librarians, authors, illustrators, editors, publishers at the Texas Library Association conference in Houston.

I will be traveling with author Chris "Day-Glow" Barton. We, along with author Brian "Proton" Anderson, will divide up hotel accommodations, and as long as they don't mind my very loud snoring and possible sleep screaming, it will all be good.

On Wednesday evening, we are planning to have dinner with author Marc Tyler Nobleman. Then on Thursday I will sign Ron's Big Mission at the Penguin booth (1405) from 2:30 to 3:30, and then at Follet from 3:30 to 4:30.

Later that evening, I'm looking forward to attending the publishers reception, and then having dinner with my editor at August House.

On Friday I will sign books with my friends at Texas Overlooked Books.

I plan to post tweets while there, if possible, though I haven't been able to figure out how to post pictures from my cell phone. You can follow me here at Twitter.

If you will be there, be sure to holler!

Breaking for basketball

I am not a basketball person at all. But K is. So I took a break from painting today, to get in a quick game. We ended up playing all afternoon. Huh!

A shout-out to my writing friends

Check out my post at Crowe's Nest: Encouragement from friends on my path to publication.

Caricatures; doodling

I created this caricature of a coworker. Yesterday was her last day at work, so I wanted to do something special.

I had a tough time with this. It's much easier to do a caricature when the subject is, well, funny looking. But my coworker isn't a bad looking lady, so I wasn't sure what facial featured to exploit.

The first thing I did was to create a sketch of her from memory. The mind tends to remember and identify with certain facial features. Her smile is what I remembered most, and how she squints her eyes. My initial sketch was way off, but I used the sketch along with a 10-year-old photo I'd found of her, and this is what I came up with.

She's from England and has a very strong English accent, which explains the royal Queenly theme.

I colored this in Photoshop.



This is a doodle of Duke Ellington, I created one day while talking on the phone. While talking, I didn't even realize I was doodling from the screen saver on my computer. I tend to doodle so much, I don't even think about it. I liked how this one turned out.

Following mom's example made calling my dad much easier

Last week my dad was admitted to the hospital. As it turned out, he'd basically drunk and smoked himself to near death. He now has congestive heart failure, COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease), and alcohol induced dementia. He doesn't fully understand what's going on; his brain has atrophied after decades of alcohol abuse.

When I first heard the news, I wasn't sure how to feel or what to think. How does one feel when something bad happens to an almost total stranger? My parents separated when I was 15 years old. They divorced two years later. When my dad moved out, he cut himself off from his family, divorcing himself from his four boys, too. Since then, my relationship with my dad has consisted of, maybe, four brief conversations in 27 years.

Following my parent’s divorce, my dad moved in with his longtime girlfriend. Soon they married and started a family. My brothers and I watched our mom suffer through a depression that lasted for years.

There were race issues, too. My dad's new wife, the woman who broke up our family, was white. I won't go into the complexities this added to the situation, but I thought my dad finally had what he wanted — light-skinned children with straight hair. But when that marriage failed, too, he cut himself off from those children.

Today I don't hate my dad. The reason? My mom.

My mom was the ultimate model of Christian reconciliation and forgiveness. She forgave my dad. She forgave the other woman. It took a few years, but in time, she treated them both not with resentment, but with love. There were many times when my mom did things that made no sense to me. I didn't understand the many acts of kindness she bestowed on my dad and that other woman — blessings she continues to give even today.

Then, I thought my mom's actions revealed an awful weakness that made me feel ashamed. Today I view my mom's actions with honor and pride. Her example of strength, courage, forgiveness, selflessness, her unwavering faith in God provides a path that I want to follow to becoming a better person.

Last week, I contacted my dad at the hospital, as did two of my three brothers (the other will call, too, I'm confident). Calling him wasn't hard to do. I just thought about my mom, and I did what I thought she would do.

So, what was she doing? She was at the hospital, visiting my dad. He called her first, the one person in this world he could depend on in his greatest hour of need.

I'm so technologically (is that a word?) out of date

This kind of thing keeps happening to me: My mom sends pictures for me to view at an online photo album, but I can't view them because I don't have the current Flash player installed. I can't install the current Flash player because I don't have the current version of Firefox installed. I can't install the current version of Firefox because I don't have the current operating system installed. I don't have the current operating system installed because my computer is too old. I don't have an up-to-date computer because, well, who can afford a new computer in an economy like this?

Kudos to Ron

From JLG Monthly, April/May 2009 issue: Although the segregated South might seem distant to many young readers, this story makes history feel personal.

From author Corinne J. Naden: "Rose Blue and I were talking to the library staff in Lake City, South Carolina which is Ronald McNair's hometown. One of them mentioned that Ron was well known there, not just because he was an astronaut and had died tragically in the explosion of the Challenger space shuttle in 1986, but because he had opened the library system in that small town. The tale sounded intriguing. I think even beyond the delightful pictures, the book is special because—with a few embellishments perhaps—it's true."

From Don Tate: "My seven-year-old son served as the model for many of the facial expressions . . . I took hundreds of pictures of him, to the point that I finally got on his nerves. But he loved the final product."

I will attend TLA (Texas Library Association) on April 2nd, signing Ron's Big Mission at the Penguin booth, #1405 from 2:30pm – 3:30pm, and then again at the Follett booth from 3:30 p.m – 4:30 p.m.

Interview with NPR's Rodney Lear

Check me out chatting with NPR Cincinatti's Rodney Lear. This was extremely difficult for me to listen to; I don't like hearing my own voice. But the end result turned out better than what I anticipated.