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Why Caleb, Now?

I just posted the first episodes of a new novel, CALEB IN MINOR KEY, at Radish Fiction, a place where writers post new works for free as well as for a small fee.

I’m excited. But I’m also nervous. Caleb is biracial.

Here’s the book blurb:

All Caleb wants to do is rule the world with music, but he’s torn between warring parents. Should he stay with chaotic Dad, fight it out in a racist small town, and come up hard like his idols? Or is it time to move in with controlling Mom and try a rich college town where there’s a chance at fame?

There were other titles for this blog post, such as “What White People Must Do/Must Not Do” and “I Wake Up White Sometimes, But Rarely.” Or, “What Do I Get to Write, and Why?”

Why write a biracial male character when I’m a white female whose ancestors are Italian, German Swiss, and Scottish?

  • Because I heard Caleb’s voice and saw him with his dad. And that meant in my world, the story had to start. The white redneck father in a small town, the black lawyer mom in suburbia, two different locations and racism in both, struggle in all for Caleb. And through at all, a young man’s search for identity through his music. (Some argue that some white authors are trying diverse characters to be trendy. I’m writing a unique individual who’s occupied my head. I’ve written diverse characters in my books since the early ’90s–not as types, not to fill a space or requirement, but because they live and breathe just like my white ones. They exist, they are, they demand to be heard. A feverish and demanding place, the writer’s imagination!)

    Caleb in Minor Key

  • Because I refuse to write an Anywhere, USA, default-white landscape. I’ve read a number of YA books where one has to assume a character is “white unless otherwise specified.” I hate that. Not sure who lives in that world, but it’s not me. We need diverse books written by everyone. White people do not get to sit back and write only white characters and assume that’s the best or safest route.
  • Because racial injustice makes us all sick, and it needs to be openly dealt with via art, conversation, and honest dialogue. Everyone has a role in making our society well.
  • Because Radish is a serial fiction platform where fans of my other work or new readers can access Caleb’s story for free. (Some argue that if I publish this book in traditional or indie channels, I’ll take someone else’s place at the table in a historically white industry. Radish is application-based but doesn’t offer a severely limited number of seats like traditional American publishing. And if the last ten years of indie publications have shown us anything, it’s that many have chosen not to attempt the narrow pipeline, which can sometimes squeeze out meritorious books, while putting harsh rules on talented folk of all backgrounds.)
  • Because I need to grow. Radish is a place where readers can experience Caleb and tell me what’s working and what’s not. If they feel like it. Or not. Either way, I’ve hired a sensitivity reader, and I remain open to helpful feedback if people have the time and interest. (Some argue that certain whites demand that people of color “fix” their writing for them, which is so strange to me. I don’t expect anyone who’s not expressly hired in this capacity to step up and assist me just because they represent a certain demographic. I welcome helpful critique, but I don’t require or expect it, from anyone.)
  • Because what we call white or black or any other color denies the multi-faceted, colorful rainbow of personality.  Each person I write aims to surprise. If all my characters, whatever demographic they might represent, are so individual that they can rise above their labels, then I’ve succeeded. Does my queer teen girl obsessed with Christiane Amanpour, does my German-Russian immigrant grandmother, does my South Carolina-born-and-bred bluegrass redneck talent leap from the page, just like Caleb? Then let Caleb be his own strange and wonderful self among these white folk.
  • Because I’m the only one who knows exactly what I’ve lived, who I’ve known, and what I know now. Or how I came to know it. Some may look at my picture and think they know exactly how my life has gone. Thanks for playing, but you don’t know. And if I do this novel well, those ready to judge need to trust that I got my information from living some interesting life and knowing a whole range of people who make my life rich.
  • Because my story is an entire work, not one line on a page. If someone says to me, “But you can’t write that,” then I sincerely hope they’ll follow up with at least one suggestion of what I should write instead. If someone chooses to step out in judgement, then I invite them to see how the person, place, or thing I’m portraying doesn’t exist somehow, somewhere. If my white privilege is showing, I hope they tell me with specifics. I hope they take the story as a whole, because you never know how my Chapter 7 might just balance what you deem a troubling illustration in Chapter 2. Have you seen the entire landscape of people and how my characters evolve? Is there empathy, realism, honesty, and respect for each character? Give the whole book a try before you make a declaration.
  • Because I keep putting myself in places beyond my comfort zone. I read, I hang with people different than me, I travel. Living in California and North Carolina, teaching in several different secondary schools, and traveling a lot of places has taught me that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy. It’s a good place to start when writing.
  • Because I’m an artist who walks in others’ shoes. I can’t stop, and I never want to. 

Join me at Radish (download the free app) and then join me at my Facebook page and leave me a comment.

For more meditations on this subject, check out Mary Anne Morhanraj’s post on this subject, or Justine Larbalestier’s post, “How to Write Protagonists of Colour When You’re White.”

Hold Up, Hold UP: Don’t Mess with Huck

The fault lies with the teaching, not the book. You can’t say ‘I’ll change Dickens so it is compatible with my teaching method‘. Twain’s books are not just literary documents but historical documents, and that word is totemic because it encodes all of the violence of slavery. The point of the book is that Huckleberry Finn starts out racist in a racist society, and stops being racist and leaves that society. These changes mean the book ceases to show the moral development of his character. They have no merit and are misleading to readers. The whole point of literature is to expose us to different ideas and different eras, and they won’t always be nice and benign. It’s dumbing down.”
Dr Sarah Churchwell

This week everybody’s weighed in on whether NewSouth Books should have edited the n word out of Huck Finn, so I’ll add to the cacophony by hailing Dr. Churchwell’s brilliant first statement and plumbing a topic that gets lost in this debate. How do we teach difficult texts?

I write and coordinate independent study curriculum at the Duke University Talent Identification program, where I and course developer Sandra Sinclair grappled with this Huck Finn question when we created The Reader’s Journey, Volume 1. Note what we say to students as they embark on reading the novel:

Sometimes when we read literary works from another era, we may find the language to be archaic, biased, or strong. We may even be offended by the diction and the attitudes it represents because the language reminds us of horrible injustices and past crimes. Such language may cause problems for modern readers who don’t comprehend the setting of another era or who would rather not explore the prejudices and problems of that time. In other words, reading a work from such an era can be contentious.

For example, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, written in the late 1800s by Mark Twain, takes place in the Southern United States. Some of its language is considered racially inappropriate and offensive today. While we would never consider using such terms today, Americans from certain regions of the country once did, and that language is key to the setting Twain establishes in his story.

Let’s get a sense of how you will be challenged. You have to imagine a time that is drastically different from your present-day experience, and yet, familiar in some ways. Huck Finn is set in 1835-1845, when African-Americans are enslaved in parts of the United States, and the country has not yet fought the Civil War—a war fought over slavery and other economic, political, and social concerns.

Try to picture a time in America when race relations were so bad that it would be commonplace for a white man to claim how wrong it was for a black man to be educated, wealthy, and have a vote.

If you would like to see how we ask students to investigate a particular racist rant by Pap, Huck’s father, begin on page 14 of this sample lesson.

These words are only a snapshot of myriad ways I’ve introduced and taught works with antiquated, offensive language. I’ve started with slide shows of civil rights history so students can see how long and hard people fought for freedoms in the United States, so that the work being studied–in this case To Kill a Mockingbird, rife with the n word–could be placed in a positive, progressive context. When I say “progressive,” I mean inspirational to any student whose ancestors may have fought for basic rights.

An aside: If students only read works where people of certain races, religions, ethnicities, and sexual orientations are always enslaved, oppressed, or secondary characters, we’re giving kids a narrow, myopic lens on diversity and achievements. In other words, Jim of Huck Finn and Tom of To Kill a Mockingbird shouldn’t be the only black men teens encounter in English class. I’m all for Huck Finn mixed in with contemporary works.

Someone might argue that I, who am against censorship, have censored myself in this post. Of course I have. I am a white American woman born in 1968 who refuses to use the n word. Place me in my historical context, get to know me a little, and you’ll soon learn why I have no desire nor right to use that word casually. If I write about a character who happens to be racist or happens to be black, it’s possible I’ll include the entire word spelled out in that context. But only then.

It’s also helpful to present students with that civil rights timeline but first as just a series of dates, no events, and ask them where their births, their parents’, and their grandparents’ fall. It’s interesting to see their faces after you post historical events, when they begin to see who in their family was alive when Jim Crow was still around, when lynchings were still the regular, when Dr. King was assassinated. Suddenly racism isn’t the mere stuff of dusty history tomes. Suddenly it’s harder to argue that racism is dead and that the n word is everyone’s to use…especially harder for those who don’t realize they’re waking up white.

My students have learned the art of argumentation while debating whether works such as Heart of Darkness should be removed from the canon. My students have written private journals about racial epithets and other violent words they have used or others have used against them. There are so many creative, compassionate, and courageous ways to teach the ugly truths of human history and the malignant desires of the human heart.

Millie Davis of the National Council of Teachers of English, which calls the NewSouth edition censorship, notes this is not a book you read aloud. I would agree, having discussed with my students how we will skip this word when reading sections of Heart of Darkness in class. No matter how racially heterogeneous your classroom is, it just doesn’t make sense to let those words fall on student ears. Maybe someday, the word will be so innocuous that anyone can say it the same way they might say “knave” or “varlet” when reading Shakespeare.

By the time students are 12 or 13, they should be led thoughtfully and sensitively through these dark topics by both parents and professionals. School is a place to practice habits of good character. As Churchwell says, let’s not interfere with the study of Huck’s moral development by cleaning up the rough, ignorant, historically real language Twain gives him.

No, I won’t pretend my heart doesn’t beat faster before I embark on such lessons, or that I haven’t pulled students aside and asked them to let me know if they feel like things are too disturbing. Teaching tough works is messy. You have to be ready for a range of feelings to be expressed by everyone in the community. You have to listen. And what Mark Twain’s Huck, Jim, Pap, and others have to say–in all their splendid ignorance, with all their courage, and with all their beauty and warts–is worth giving a gander to. Or, we can all follow Huck’s example in Chapter 1, before the adventures have schooled him the wiser, and hide our heads from history.

…but by and by she let it out that Moses had been dead a considerable long time; so then I didn’t care no more about him, because I don’t take no stock in dead people.

Writing Prompts: Please note that writing prompts should always be pursued in emotionally-safe environments with the supervision of someone who interested in encouraging good writing, self-awareness, and reflection. A wonderful resource is Pat Schneider’s Writing Alone and With Others.

© Lyn Hawks. Writing prompts for one-time classroom use only and not for publication in any form elsewhere without permission of this author.

Writing Prompts for Teachers

— What books won’t you teach? Why?
— What types of topics are your students ready to handle? How do you know?
— How do you prepare your students for difficult topics and words?

Writing Prompts for Students

— What words have you or others close to you been called that are extremely hurtful? What do those words mean to you? How do they affect your feelings and your actions? What choices did you make after hearing these words? Why?
— What words have you called others that you now regret? Why?
— Should literature we read in school contain those words? Why or why not?
— Should literature with such words be banned from the canon? Why or why not?
— Should literature with such words be edited so that synonyms are used? If yes, what synonyms would you use, and why? If not, why not use synonyms?

A Right to Write?


“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view – until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”

Atticus Finch to Scout in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird

Today’s Word Count for the Novel: 268,822. My goal was to cut 825; I cut 491. 334 shy of my goal.

Rationalization: Sometimes you gotta move things around before you finally cut them. I’m saying my last goodbyes to some passages.

Page Count for the Novel: 1002

What do writers have the right to write?

Free speech says, “Anything save “Fire!” in a crowded theater.” But to paraphrase St. Paul – “almost anything” may be possible, but it ain’t all permissible.

Again, to invoke my husband’s bluegrass mantra: Just because you can, that don’t mean you should.

I’ve potentially trespassed, according to some — a former writing group and from a friend and mentor, all of whose opinions I respect greatly.

The short story appearing in Relief Journal’s Volume 2.3 comes from a perspective some would not consider right for a white girl. I chose to write from the point of view of someone of a different race.

I’d rather you support Relief Journal than give away the story (by the way: no payment in it for me if you purchase). For now, I do want to meditate on two reactions I received at earlier drafts of this story.

Said someone in my writer’s group: “I’m not sure you have the right to write this story.” I can’t interpret her meaning with 100% accuracy, but I can imagine that perhaps the issue wasn’t about my attempt to walk in the shoes of this character. Rather, one translation might be, “Follow the flights of imagination, especially in order to walk in someone else’s moccasins, but don’t try publishing this.” In other words, exercises promoting empathy and cross-cultural understanding are good, but putting a story out for public consumption smacks of, “Look at me, I know what I’m talking about.” And the follow-up question would be, “How on earth could you truly know?” A point well worth raising.

Said my friend and mentor in an e-mail to me, “(It’s) something about the audacity/privilege of a white woman to imagine she could speak for a black woman when the white woman couldn’t (by definition) have experienced some of the episodes the black mother did. . . I do have concern about the perspective, however, as presumably, it is projection. I sit here asking myself if this story challenges white supremacist norms and consciousness by taking the reader inside this situation – or if it perpetuates white supremacist norms and consciousness in a subtle, complex way.”

These are valuable questions. To me, they are just the kind of questions literature should inspire for thoughtful readers such as my friend. She also added at one point, “Yet I liked the story and thought it was important to read.”

I like my friend’s use of the word “projection.” There is no way I can’t project both myself into a character of another race as well as project my assumptions, stereotypes, and norms into this character. I can’t escape it as a white person, and if I were black, or a man, or any other human permutation, I would be in the same boat. I will read another’s life as a book filled with my own bias.

Again, I can’t speak with 100% accuracy here either, but my friend’s comment gets at the problem of power – that whites still speak from paradigms and positions of dominance – and therefore whites, when writing any sort of fiction, risk yet another trespass in keeping with slavery, Jim Crow, blackface, Elvis stealing blues, and other ways whites have either oppressed or adopted what they conceive to be “blackness.”

What would then mitigate such as act as mine that’s carried out in this historical and racial context? I would say, Redeeming answers to the following questions:

Does the story reveal something true of humanity rather than sketch a stereotype? Is the character a unique individual with a special story to tell?
Does the story more closely connect readers across racial and cultural lines?
Does the story use its conflict to explore redemption? Who or what is redeemed, and why?
Does the reader learn something?
Do I, the writer, learn something?

If you read the story, tell me what you think. Or tell me your thoughts on this issue of point of view and whether or not the author’s race is crucial to a story’s authority, authenticity, and truthfulness.

I will say this: I think publishing this story in 2008, rather than 1998, 1988, 1978, or 1968 (the year of my birth and Dr. King’s assassination) is much more permissible than it ever was. Your thoughts on that subject would be appreciated, too!

Robert Olen Butler once commented in an interview (and this is my paraphrase, since I searched unsuccessfully for that interview online) that as a Midwestern, middle-aged white male who grew up with two parents happily married he has more in common with a Vietnamese woman living with her happily-married parents – as opposed to his trying to write the story of a Midwestern, middle-aged white male whose family suffers from divorce. It’s a fascinating thought, and to me a hopeful, life-affirming one, that as writers we can bridge these seemingly vast canyons with our words and imaginations. I treasure stories from Eudora Welty and Doris Betts who walk beautifully and sensitively in the shoes of black women, just as I treasure a man’s walk in the shoes of three women, Michael Cunningham’s The Hours.

Then again, the road to hell is paved with all kinds of good, patronizing, and self-satisfied intentions.

In no way am I done with this topic. Will return to it soon.

Today’s Writing Goal: I didn’t meet my last writing goal by 334 words. I’ll shoot down the middle and try to cut 500 words by the next tally, and I will edit the hard copy (8 pages) awaiting me on my desk. (I printed out all 1040-some and have been hard-copy-editing, which leads to these word count goals. After I entered changes through page 500, I stopped and printed again and am now cutting more.)

Writing Prompts: Please note that writing prompts should always be pursued in emotionally-safe environments with the supervision of someone who interested in encouraging good writing, self-awareness, and reflection. A wonderful resource is Pat Schneider’s Writing Alone and With Others.

© Lyn Hawks. Writing prompts for one-time classroom use only and not for publication in any form elsewhere without permission of this author.

Elementary: What color are you?

Colors express all kinds of feelings, and we use language to help describe how we feel. Some people say, “I am blue,” when they are sad, and “I’m seeing red,” when they are angry. Can you think of any other ways we use colors to describe feelings? Try yellow and green and see what you might have heard.

Describe how you have felt today, yesterday, and the day before. Think of times when you felt sadness, anger, joy, peace, jealousy, and fear. Draw a picture of your heart and divide it up like a pizza or a patchwork quilt. Then use any color to color in parts of your heart that have those feelings. Match a color to each feeling

Now write about one of those feelings. Begin with this sentence, “When I feel ___________(name the emotion), I am ______________ (name the color).” Now tell a story about that time. Use lots of detail: what did you see, hear, smell, taste, and/or touch that day you had this feeling?”

Secondary and Adult:

We know that people discriminate based on skin color. But we also know the famous phrase and vision of Dr. Martin Luther King that asks us to judge people not by race but by the “content of their character.” In fact, race is not well-defined by anthropologists and sociologists. So why shouldn’t we “color” ourselves? When we think of this societal convention identifying people by race and juxtapose it against the color wheel we know from art class, suddenly skin color can lose its significance. Which is not to say that race and racism don’t matter, but rather, that if we can step away from the world and all its judgments for a moment, we can ask, How do I color myself?

Name all the colors you know, from primary to secondary to every shade of color that is important to you. Then pick one of the following two prompts.

Color Me Red, Color Me Blue: Pick the colors that best suit your personality, your interests, and your life experience. Write a self-description that begins, “Color me _____ (pick the color) because…”

Inventing Idioms: You may have heard, “I’m blue” when someone is sad or other colors used to describe emotions. Name some other colors and how they are used in common expressions (also known as idioms).

Now invent some new expressions.

You can use metaphor, such as “I’m blue,” where you give an emotion a color.

You can use an action with an implied metaphor, such as “I’m seeing red,” where red represents the emotion of anger and the action of seeing is part of that metaphor’s vehicle.

Start a story or a personal essay where this new idiom begins the description of your emotional experience.