Readalong: The Hungry Ghosts
Two years ago Viking Children’s Books published The Hungry Ghosts. About a month ago I thought to myself: “that’s more than enough time to read my own book.” And so that’s what I’m doing.
Whether you’ve read The Hungry Ghosts before or are just dropping in, welcome to the table! This October I’m inviting you and yours to join me while I revisit some old friends. I’ve grown a lot these past years and I bet you have too.
I am terrible at being active on most of my social networks, at least for the level of activity you’re supposed to maintain in order to continue being a real person to those who only know you by your digital footprint. But in the gaps here and there I’ve tried to remind myself that I exist. Ever since my lolo told me stories about living through the fires and smokes of WWII, it’s been my greatest fear in life to not exist. This drive to live as if I must always be finding a way to leave footprints, to not transform into a ghost, is probably the worst lie I tell myself.
Like most of my work, The Hungry Ghosts was initially an effort to preserve that lie. This was the lie that convinced a 9-yr-old brown kid from D.C. that his life would never hold any value in the world unless he did something big enough to be remembered when he died. Lies are powerful things.
This book was published at a painful time of my life. The world was reeling from the throes of a pandemic. I knew people who had passed away and people who were just barely passing me by. Many of my plans got disrupted and there are parts of my body that still haven’t quite recovered. I misplaced too many of those hopes in a book that I had been working on for more than 5 years. And, as any misplaced hopes are likely to do, they let me down.
However, I still look back on this book with fond memories and I still continue to write—albeit a little less frequently and with a little more spunk. I’ve tried here and there to complete another Middle Grade book, but lately I’ve had an easier time writing for adults. It’s the math of it: our heads are bigger which means our standards are lower.
I have been incredibly blessed and am beyond grateful to hear from those who’ve read my little book. I’m thankful for those of you who’ve given Milly and her friends a chance to be heard. It’s always exciting to see my book still regularly circulate through local library systems and I’m amazed at hearing from those who’ve read my book upwards of four times. I hope you’ve found every typo by now!
If you plan to keep up with my readalong, please feel more than free to ask any questions or leave any comments! Nothing’s off the table, unless it’s incredibly complicated. In which case you’ll get a fake nod of understanding followed by an awkward cough.
Whether you’ve read The Hungry Ghosts before or are just dropping in, welcome to the table! This October I’m inviting you and yours to join me while I revisit some old friends. I’ve grown a lot these past years and I bet you have too.
I am terrible at being active on most of my social networks, at least for the level of activity you’re supposed to maintain in order to continue being a real person to those who only know you by your digital footprint. But in the gaps here and there I’ve tried to remind myself that I exist. Ever since my lolo told me stories about living through the fires and smokes of WWII, it’s been my greatest fear in life to not exist. This drive to live as if I must always be finding a way to leave footprints, to not transform into a ghost, is probably the worst lie I tell myself.
Like most of my work, The Hungry Ghosts was initially an effort to preserve that lie. This was the lie that convinced a 9-yr-old brown kid from D.C. that his life would never hold any value in the world unless he did something big enough to be remembered when he died. Lies are powerful things.
This book was published at a painful time of my life. The world was reeling from the throes of a pandemic. I knew people who had passed away and people who were just barely passing me by. Many of my plans got disrupted and there are parts of my body that still haven’t quite recovered. I misplaced too many of those hopes in a book that I had been working on for more than 5 years. And, as any misplaced hopes are likely to do, they let me down.
However, I still look back on this book with fond memories and I still continue to write—albeit a little less frequently and with a little more spunk. I’ve tried here and there to complete another Middle Grade book, but lately I’ve had an easier time writing for adults. It’s the math of it: our heads are bigger which means our standards are lower.
I have been incredibly blessed and am beyond grateful to hear from those who’ve read my little book. I’m thankful for those of you who’ve given Milly and her friends a chance to be heard. It’s always exciting to see my book still regularly circulate through local library systems and I’m amazed at hearing from those who’ve read my book upwards of four times. I hope you’ve found every typo by now!
If you plan to keep up with my readalong, please feel more than free to ask any questions or leave any comments! Nothing’s off the table, unless it’s incredibly complicated. In which case you’ll get a fake nod of understanding followed by an awkward cough.
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