Zetta Elliott's Blog

After traveling for a week, I desperately needed a day of silence so I didn’t go out today. Ordered a pizza, did some laundry, took out the recycling bin even though it’s full of my neighbor’s trash. Watched a silly plane crash murder mystery and then queried a couple more hosts; I’m casting a wider net because the places I liked in Toronto and Montreal haven’t worked out. I’d rather not live in someone’s basement but beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll miss this sunny seat beside the window here in Liverpool, but not the barking dogs or the crying baby next door. No place is perfect but I’ve enjoyed my time here and yesterday afternoon I joined a reading group at Calderstones Park. We read excerpts of Never Let Me Go, then went into the sunny garden and read some poetry. Very informal, and very nice.

Oslo was also sunny and warm—it’s a beautiful, walkable city. Seeing Margaret Busby at her book launch was definitely the highlight of my week, but I also did some Viking research and learned about a ship burial that contained only two women…I’m sure I can work that into my story somehow! I tacked on an extra day in Dublin and then arrived Thursday night and just wanted to go home. But I did a little online research before my laptop died and discovered a surprising article—I was working from an advertisement that offered a Black girl for sale in 1768 but then her enslaver’s descendant published an account proving she wasn’t sold after all! That changes my plot a little but not much. I went to the Dublin Central Library the next day and the staff there was amazing—they gave me a library card so I can access their databases from here, and that morning I managed to find the couple who trafficked the child into Ireland from South Carolina (much to the dismay of their Irish family). There wasn’t enough time to get up to Carrickmacross but I will try to get there before I leave for Toronto on May 17. On Thursday I head to Birmingham for one more walking tour and from there will do a day trip to see the Cotswolds. I need to organize my London trip and my author copies finally arrived so I have to find a way to share all these books—I did buy a little carry-on bag but there are just too many books to bring back. Greenlight Books in Brooklyn invited me to join their Juneteenth celebration on June 12th and I’ll see if there’s any interest in Toronto.

I’ve got two puzzles left to complete, and then I’ll donate all of them to the library here that does a weekly swap. If my landlady doesn’t want the clothes rack, cushions, and coasters I bought, I’ll need to take them to a charity shop. I offered my copy of Never Let Me Go to another workshop attendee yesterday and asked a professor in London if she’d like some of my picture books and YA novels. Time to purge! I bought a couple of spring shirts in Dublin but have been really good about not accumulating too much stuff. Found an interesting talk online by Pema Chodron—she thinks Alice in Wonderland is a good role model because of the way she handles “groundlessness.” It’s hard to fall with grace or faith when you don’t know when or where or how you’ll land. But I’m trying…

What a week. There’s a lot going on with the planets; Chani predicted this week would be challenging and she wasn’t wrong! I was supposed to visit the Lake District today but my trip was canceled; the tour company offered us a seat on their bus to northern Wales, but I decided to just stay home. Finished another puzzle, went for a walk to absorb some sunshine, and then came back to reality. I’ve decided to go ahead with the UK artist visa and spoke with a lawyer yesterday; not sure I’m willing to pay for his services but it was helpful to hear his insights. A colleague at Oxford has kindly agreed to write one of my three letters and I’m working on the other two. The visa depends on receiving an endorsement from the Arts Council of England and the requirements are very specific. Since I’ve been working as a professional writer for more than five years, I have to apply as an “exceptional talent” and prove that I’ve sold books, made appearances, and won awards since 2021. My application must demonstrate that I’m a leader in my field with the intention and ability to contribute to the UK literary scene. That didn’t seem like a problem last month but now that I’m looking at my CV, I’m wondering if I’ve done enough since 2021. I just watched two interviews I gave in Canada three years ago because I also have to show that I’m recognized as an author in at least two countries…

Last year I didn’t get into that MFA program and I didn’t get the city grant I applied for…so why am I setting myself up for more rejection? Because the reward is worth the risk. I checked MyHeritage a few weeks ago and found they had updated my ethnicity estimate. Apparently I’m no longer mostly English—I’m Portuguese and an assortment of other continental European identities. Ancestry.com now says I’m about 30% Scottish, which is just as impossible. Since I’ve started researching my Huguenot ancestry, both DNA sites have added northern France to their estimates…is it the algorithm? Cookies? I take it all with a large grain of salt. But I do have roots here and I want to know more about the cultures that shaped my ancestors. How are settlers created? What makes a person feel entitled to land that belongs to someone else? Suffering, perhaps. I’ve been harmed and now I am owed…

I leave Monday for Dublin, where I’ll catch a flight to Oslo. Before I leave, I need to secure another apartment for the next chapter of my nomadic life. Montreal seems like the best option right now. It’s close to Toronto so I can visit my mom, it’s bilingual so I can practice my French, and it’s easy enough to cross the border to enter the US. I’ll be presenting on a panel at ALA in late June (“Poets Talk: Community, Joy, & Celebration in Picture Books”) and just got an invitation to do a Juneteenth event at a bookstore in Brooklyn. My author copies still haven’t arrived but there’s nothing I can do about that. This is definitely one of those moments where I feel my anxiety ramping up and know I have to focus only on the things I can control…

I just used the EU’s online Schengen zone calculator to figure out whether I have enough days left in my 90-day allowance to visit Oslo later this month. I probably should have done that *before* I booked my flight and hotel but fortunately, I’ve got 5 days left. That also means, I think, that I’ve miscalculated my return date…you can spend three out of six months in the Schengen zone but that six months doesn’t start on the day you arrive…I’ll need to revisit that calculator as I think about the future.

This past week I realized that my plan of selling the foreign rights to the dragon series probably won’t work. Wouldn’t it be lovely, I thought, to have enough royalties coming in that I could write purely for pleasure? The books are still selling well in the US, but two foreign rights agents have told me that MG isn’t moving in overseas markets so I’ll have to focus/depend on the books I haven’t yet finished. My flight to Oslo is out of Dublin so that will give me a chance to research my hybrid verse novel set in Ireland and my Viking novel as well.

Everyone else may be writing a poem a day for NaPoWriMo, but this year I’m taking a break. Carole Boston Weatherford is Youth Poet Laureate and she’s shining a light on poets whose books have been challenged or banned. She’s also using her platform to have our work featured in Poetry Magazine, yet I struggled to find the three poems she asked us to submit. FIVE MONTHS of writing a poem every day and I only came up with about a dozen that I thought were good enough to publish. I asked three friends to pick their favorites, agonized for a few days, and then forced myself to hit submit. But I’m not forcing myself to write any more poems—for now. I finished reading Menewood, which was excellent, and will be reading Phillis Wheatley’s poetry from now on. Hopefully that will prepare me to write neoclassical verse for Glory & the Fifth Province…

My trip to York last week was a bit disappointing but the medieval stone walls captured my imagination. I was rushing to see the Roman city wall when a bird shat on me. Time will tell whether that “blessing” brings good luck…

I have two virtual school visits in the US this week. When I wrapped up yesterday, one of the classes in San Mateo asked if I ever wrote myself into my stories. I usually tell kids that there’s a little bit of me in all my characters but with these latest stories set in France, I’ve gone a step further. Ségolène has made a fantastic start on Le Chat Fantôme. The first four pages show me lost in Tours and finally winding up in a sunny courtyard with the mysterious feline. Before long, I’m fast asleep and the cat takes me on a historical tour of the Loire Valley…Ségolène will have to draw herself because at the end of the book, there’s a page that shows us collaborating in our respective studios. I need to revise that story so I can send a draft to my translator in Paris…

I’ve been thinking about France lately—partly because I finally finished my Huguenot story, and partly because of the recent elections. It was a relief to see the Left holding onto and/or winning so many positions of power. I have a return ticket to Paris but right now, May feels distant. I need to start working on my Ireland novel but I’m going to give myself this week to decompress. I zoomed with a UK indie author this morning and it’s always interesting to compare notes. Claire also writes historical fantasy and the first two books in her series were delivered just as we’d started to talk. She’s an impressive diversity advocate and book influencer as well; you can follow her on Instagram.

I went to Chester last week and am thinking of going to Manchester tomorrow. On our walking tour the guide stopped at this shop and I had to snap a picture. A disguisery is the collective noun for a group of tailors but wouldn’t it also make a great title for a novel? I have too many ideas…I wonder what it would be like if I got the artist visa and lived here for two or three years. My creative “basket” would probably overflow within a couple of months! So far I’ve had no luck connecting with arts organizations here in Liverpool. Maybe that means I’ll go back to France in May and try the UK again in the fall. When things don’t go as planned, I try to remind myself that I still have options…

I probably will end up writing a book set here in Liverpool but this week I finally got back to my Huguenot story! It felt so good to be working on it again, which means I was right to take a break—I didn’t lose the plot, I hadn’t forgotten anything, and now I feel ready to finish it up. Having a little distance from Tours and the project helped, as I’d hoped. That’s the best thing about getting older as a writer: I trust myself more. I recently read an essay by Roxanne Gay where she talks about menopause and feeling as if she might never write anything worthwhile ever again. She was trying to come up with alternate career options when she finally realized menopause messes with your brain. I have been super productive during my perimenopausal decade but the past couple of months did leave me wondering whether I’d just keep coming up with ideas and never finish all the projects I start.

Today I went back to Sefton Park, which is becoming my favorite place to walk. The sign says it’s a Parisian-style park and it’s huge; if I do stay in Liverpool, I would try to find an apartment close by. It reminds me a bit of Prospect Park in Brooklyn. Today I checked out the Palm House and nearby Fairy Glen. I wasn’t sure I was in the right place and was about to ask a man standing by the gate when I realized he was feeding a robin out of his hand! I looked from the bird to his face and I’m pretty sure he was Black…which made me think of Ben Weatherstaff and how this Liverpool novel will be in dialogue with The Secret Garden. It’s World Book Day here in the UK and the radio presenter this morning was describing all the costumes kids were wearing to school since they got to choose their favorite literary character. I did wonder, of course, if all the kids of color chose Harry Potter and if they had any BAME options…then I worked on my puzzle over breakfast, went for my walk, came home and assembled a shelf for the bathroom before putting in my first load of laundry. I don’t know why ordinary things make me anxious. Washers and dryers are different in Europe; this one small load of laundry will take FIVE hours to complete. Which means doing another load tomorrow and over the weekend, probably. Then it will be Sunday, which means the trash bin needs to be pulled down the alley and left on the curb. I like the satisfaction of doing ordinary things without anxiety but by the time I get the hang of it, it’ll be time to move on…

I spent some time on Upwork last night looking for an illustrator for The Crow’s Daughters. Or Daughters of the Crow. Finally gave up and reached out to a Norwegian artist I’ve worked with twice before; Christina is amazing and she’s available, so this afternoon I sent her a bunch of reference photos. Yesterday I found a researcher who published online all the female given names she found in tax records from central France in the 14th-17th century. Some were common in the Touraine region so I pulled my characters’ names from those options: Anne and Berthaude. I’m going with Mathieu for the brother. It’s such a privilege to have this time, in this cozy home, in this city. There’s chaos all over the world but things feel calm here. Yesterday I bought half a dozen brownies from the nearby bakery and joined the Anglican church around the corner for their weekly community dinner. Stayed for the religious conversation that followed but didn’t have much to say. Still, it was nice to be around Christians who weren’t disemboweling one another! I’ve been wading through too many accounts of too many massacres, first in Ireland and then France. Found a post-WWI lynching here in Liverpool and a more recent hate crime killing of a Black teenager but will tuck those away for now.

I finished yet another Huguenot novel yesterday (Merchants of Virtue) but have decided not to finish that trilogy. I need to read something fun! Or maybe I’ll revisit The Secret Garden so I can build bridges to my next novel, which doesn’t yet have a title. It was Global Scouse Day last Saturday so I tried a new place and realized much of the food here reminds me of my maternal grandmother. She cooked a roast every Sunday, I think, and that was pretty much the only time in my childhood when I had beef (that wasn’t ground). I found a new grocery store and was thrilled to find they sell the same root hash my grandmother used to make with carrots, parsnips, and turnips! She was so proud of her African American ancestry but my grandma was very English when it came to her cooking and baking. Grandma always offered about half a dozen homemade baked goods for dessert. I’ve only had one piece of cake so far but there are so many sweet things here. Really appreciated the analysis of the sugar industry that I found at the Museum of Liverpool. There was a refinery called Fairrie & Co. here in Liverpool, which got the wheels turning…could make a clever little picture book about the very first sugar fairy…but for now, it’s back to 16th-century France!

I miss some things about Tours (trash chutes in the street!) but overall, I’ve made a good start here in Liverpool. I’m in the suburbs but the train isn’t too far away and I may try the bus, too. There are some lovely parks within walking distance and I’ll be checking out the botanic garden tomorrow. I got a library card and devoured my first bowl of scouse; I bought a wool coat for £4 at the neighborhood thrift store because some days it feels like spring but last week it felt like winter. I can walk downtown in just over an hour and visited the Museum of Liverpool yesterday; the International Slavery Museum is closed for renovations but I’m still finding facts that I can use in a book for kids…like this marker placed in the churchyard of a thirteenth-century church in Liverpool. Discovered it through a walking tour last weekend and will just keep digging, setting aside the guilty thoughts that say I’m neglecting the four other books I’ve already got on the go…

My mother went back into the hospital, which wasn’t what she wanted when she decided to start palliative care last month. But I’m not there so I give my two cents via text and wait to see what’s going to happen. The crocuses are blooming here and I’m keeping up with my routine-building habits: walking, reading, writing a poem a day. There are *way* too many programs to watch now that I have access to BBC, STV, and ITV. I haven’t kept up with my French journal but I’m not abandoning that option just because it’s easier to communicate here. I reached out to the local public library and they’d like to discuss collaborating on some events. I couldn’t easily do that in France because my language skills held me back…I might reach out to a friend at Oxford but won’t make a decision about the UK artist visa until I’ve been here at least a month. There’s no rush—that’s what I keep telling myself. There’s no rush…

I have two days before I leave for Liverpool and made a list of all the things I want to do but it’s raining today…and after sleeping for twelve hours yesterday, I’m having to rearrange my To Do list. My week in Toronto was good—my mother has started palliative care but she’s able to do her physiotherapy exercises and was lucid most of the time. Her care team is fantastic and she’s able to feed herself. I don’t know what will happen over the next few weeks but doctors have given her a gloomy outlook before and each time she’s proved them wrong. So I might have to go back this spring but I felt like I was leaving her in good hands. My team of friends showed so much love and support…Kate flew in from Nova Scotia and took me to a Raptors game; Dawn arranged an afternoon tea; Bethany agreed to store two of my suitcases, and Cozbi met me in Chicago to hand over the mail she’s been collecting. My older sister manages Mom’s care and my aunt and her daughter give Mom manicures and keep her company. It takes a village and I’m grateful for mine…

I took notes with my phone and caught up on my poem-a-day routine when I got home on Friday. My French journal entries have fallen off but I’m going to keep up with my podcast while I’m in Liverpool. I want to walk by the Loire one last time but I also have to mail books at the post office tomorrow morning. I’d like to enjoy one last meal at my favorite restaurant and I’m finishing up the food that’s in the fridge. I’m doing another load of laundry so I can finish packing my one suitcase. Hopefully it won’t be so heavy that I can’t get it on and off the train on Tuesday morning! Getting to the airport last week wasn’t hard. I’m nervous but I’m capable of solving problems so hopefully this transition will go smoothly. I didn’t get to see my friends in Paris but I’ll be back. I will! Definitely not done with Tours. My illustrator is taking longer than expected but it’s because she’s a perfectionist and really, there’s no rush. I reached out to the local public library and they agreed to accept the seven books in my dragon series. Their youth section has a small collection of foreign-language books so kids who can read English may enjoy my dragon tales. And when I return, hopefully my bilingual books will be ready…

I’m *still* tired. Not sure if it’s menopause, too much travel, or my low iron. Got my blood work done a couple weeks ago and was mostly pleased with the results. I feel healthier here! and cleaner–there’s a film of salt on *everything* in Chicago and Toronto. Winter is basically over here and the botanic garden shows signs of life that normally wouldn’t appear until March or April in North America. I finally got inside the greenhouse yesterday, which was closed all winter, only to find the citrus trees I dreamed of weren’t there. Still working on The Winter Garden poems. Maybe I’ll find gardens in Liverpool to help me fill in some gaps…

I think this is the life I was aiming for—no tourist stuff, just an everyday life where I do laundry and run errands and have doctor’s appointments and write a poem before going to bed each night. I’m meeting a friend in Angers tomorrow and I did stop by the cathedral again to get a closer look at the empty embrasures that once held statues of saints and bishops and apostles…found a convent along the way, or what’s left of it (one wall). A plaque with two angels was above the door, their faces hacked off by either Huguenots in the 16th century or radicals during the Revolution. I did some online research and learned that the basilica was also pillaged and the body of St. Martin was burned…I dip in and out. Last night I wrote a short poem/passage about the mob that stopped a Huguenot man as he was fleeing the city; they thought he had gold but when they couldn’t find it on him, they assumed he’d swallowed it and so cut him open and searched his entrails. Finding nothing, they cut out his heart and paraded it through the streets. It’s a lot but I studied lynching for a decade so mob violence isn’t new to me.I just have less stamina now.

It provides balance, doing mundane things. I went to see an Italian film (Eleonora Duse) with a classmate yesterday and understood about 80% of the French subtitles. I leave Tours on February 17 so want to do a bit more research since I won’t be able to visit these historic sites that feature in my story. I’ve decided on a crow narrator and that helps with neutrality. I don’t think Huguenots broke Catholics on the rack but that doesn’t mean they were innocent. And there were Catholics who tried to stop the bloodshed. From here I go to Liverpool for three months, which puts me close to Dublin; that’s another country with religious wars but I’m going to keep my distance there, too. Trying not to watch too many news programs but know there’s a general strike today in the US to protest the atrocities committed by ICE. I’m not working or shopping; just waiting at home for a delivery and thinking about the future.

My mother has decided to start palliative care so I will have one more week of French lessons before heading to Toronto to see her. I don’t think this is “the end” but best to visit sooner rather than later. A couple of friends are coming into the city so we can meet up while I’m in town. I think I’ll leave my winter coat and sweaters behind since spring starts early here in Europe. It’s still cold, but the botanic garden looks and sounds like spring—chirping birds on branches, and frothy buds on bushes, and green shoots poking up through the soil. The Year of the Snake is almost over and a meme on IG reminded me that snakes need friction to slough off their dead skin. I’ve got an ongoing problem back in Chicago and it flared again this week. I went to the garden to calm myself, had a sleepless night, and then faced it head on. There’s still no resolution but I’m trying to see it as the rough terrain I have to traverse in order to shed my skin. The only way is forward, right?

I’ve been dreaming about England for most of my life so when my friends from Toronto said they’d be in London for a week, I didn’t hesitate to join them. I’d never taken the Eurostar through the Chunnel before and luckily Storm Goretti moved on and didn’t impact any of my trains. But it was very cold by the time I reached London and my hotel room had no heat…staying warm has been an ongoing issue here in France so I was not pleased. But I went to bed, slept well, and met my friends the next morning at the National Gallery. My French SIM card didn’t work so I had to pick up wifi when I could, but everything was close by and I was on time for all my appointments. My photos show lots of smiles yet sometime on Saturday I started to feel low. I’m not sure why. I had a migraine but I’m used to that and had medication on hand. I asked to be moved to another room in the hotel, which was a bit warmer. I went out in the evening to forage for food and the crowds in Covent Garden were daunting. Someone was sleeping on the pavement right outside a Tube station but the tourists just stepped over them and kept on shopping. It wasn’t the dream I’d been dreaming—maybe that’s what I realized.

So I moved my departure up a day and then my weekend (and mood) turned around. I saw some incredible art by Kerry James Marshall, hung out with my friends, and went to see Hamnet at a lovely indie cinema where everyone sat through the credits without complaint. I made my way back to France on Monday and while reading in the station in Paris, a man asked me for help getting to his hotel. And I managed to explain how to buy a card for the Metro—in French! I felt relieved to be back in a place where I now have a routine and some familiarity with how things work. I thought I knew the UK better than anywhere else but it didn’t feel that way last weekend.

I contacted my immigration lawyer this morning and told her I’m ready to proceed with the long-stay visa. I’ve been struggling to find a place to stay when my 90 days are up here in France and realized I could solve that problem by leaving my things here and returning to the US for a week or two to apply for a visitor visa. I will pay for the lawyer’s assistance and hopefully this application will be approved. I now know a few people here in Tours and at least one landlord; I know which neighborhoods work best for me. A big reason for this move was to save money and the UK is simply too expensive right now. I like the calm of Tours…went to the botanic garden again today and came home to write a few more poems. I start at a new language school on Monday and will go back to Paris next Tuesday to see more art with more friends. My friend from the other school wants to meet in Angers so I will do that this weekend. I’m okay with day trips; maybe I wasn’t ready for an overnight trip. Getting here was so hard and I’m still dealing with foolishness from the sale of my condo. The snake is still shedding its skin apparently…I have more to let go of and just need to give it time…

My agent and I have been following up with editors who’ve been sitting on my stories. If I apply for the visitor visa, I won’t be able to work here in France so I need to make sure I’m still earning money elsewhere. A SONG FOR JUNETEENTH will be out in May and we’ve started doing some publicity for that picture book. I’ve been “pitched” for a couple of panels so might be back in the US for those later this year. I sent out my latest newsletter last week; you can find it here. So many people responded with news of their own departure…I’m definitely not the only artist/activist living the expat life. If only I could stop watching US news…

Why did I write this poem? Find out here.