Texas Pride
I’ve written two books of which I’m truly proud—Shark Teeth (Bloomsbury) and Braid Girls (Little, Brown).
They are two very different stories but both are deeply personal for vastly different reasons. I’m hoping that with a little Texas magic, more kids will have access to my work. Sure, I’d love to sell a million copies, but more importantly—much more importantly—I’d like to get books into the hands of more children, especially ones who look like me, and let them see themselves and their culture reflected back.
Braid Girls is the kind of book I’ve wanted to write since I was a kid. It’s about three girls who start a braiding business at their summer camp. It’s my version of the entrepreneurial The Babysitter’s Club.
In black neighborhoods, at least when I was growing up, it was much more common to see girls earning extra cash by braiding rather than babysitting. Told in three alternating viewpoints, Braid Girls captures the fears and hopes of adolescence packaged in an upbeat fast pace.
Shark Teeth is a story I wanted to tell because of what I as a kid called :the shadow kids. There were always these kids who drifted through the halls like ghosts. They were there but not there. Why?
One reason, I learned, was because not every household had a mom and a dad and structure and hierarchy. In my house, my mama was quick to point out, “I am not your friend, Sherri Denice, I am your mother!” Whoa!
However, in Shark Teeth, the hierarchy is flipped. Sharkita is one of the ghost kids, floating through school exhausted from taking care of her younger siblings, including her neurodivergent little brother. Sharkita is desperate to keep her family together despite her mother’s past behavior. Kita is a good kid, a beautiful soul, but she sometimes falls asleep in class and gets overlooked. Well. It’s seventh grade and she’s tired of it.
Kita decides to tryout for the school dance team. Her mom promises it’ll be okay. She promises Kita that she’ll do her part to care for the children after school. And Kita so wants to believe her.
But deep down, in her soul, Kita’s anxiety gnaws at her. What if …what if …what if …
How’s a 12-year-old girl supposed to deal with something like that? And what happens to her family if she fails?
Okay, y’all, it’s 4:30 in the morning and I’m out here rambling on about my books. I could talk books all day but I should go. I’ve got a conference tea in about six hours. Whew! Back to bed!
