October 23, 2024
Around this time last year, my debut middle-grade novel, SALSA MAGIC, was published. And it’s been a whirlwind ever since. Becoming an author has been a lifetime dream, so to see my name in bookstores and libraries on the same shelf as writers like Meg Medina gives me a true sense of accomplishment. But I’m still pinching myself to make sure it’s real.
Being a writer is a solitary profession, and when a cavalcade of characters dance in your head for so long, you have zero clue as to what (normal) people will think once the work is released into the world. You feel naked and exposed. You feel vulnerable. But to get rave reviews from Kirkus, Publisher’s Weekly, and the School Library Journal, and THEN, The New York Frickin’ Times, has just been surreal. SALSA MAGIC was even named one of the Best Middle Grade Novels of 2023 by the Chicago Public Library! I never thought I’d be on panels with esteemed authors like Rajani LaRocca or Chris Baron, or be reviewed by Newbery Award-winner Matt de la Peña for the NYT review alongside who would become the 2023 Newbery Award-winning author of MEXIKID, Pedro Martin. (a hilarious graphic novel that you must read). I never imagined that people would want my autograph, or that I’d be presenting in schools and teaching kids how to salsa. But here I am.
Another thing I never thought would happen happened in February: I bought a house! Two months prior, we were being kicked out of our rental, not knowing where we’d end up because the rent prices in my area were out of control. I was despondent. But suddenly, an amalgam of good fortune, good people, and a good first-time home buyers program led me from a casual internet search the day after Christmas, to six quick weeks later, holding a SOLD sign standing in my new threshold. What a Mr.Toad’s Wild Ride that was! (and stressful as a muthafucka).
The funny thing about buying a house in winter is that you don’t know what type of foliage you have inherited. So every day in spring was like getting a little present from nature. I took pictures of every blossom and Googled their names. So guess what? I have hydrangeas! Forsythia! Azaleas! Day lilies! Blazing stars! Butterfly bushes! Snow sprites! Autumn Joy! Now, me and my brown thumb have to figure out how to care for them. Dare I try to become a gardener? (I welcome all tips.)
Autumn joy. That’s what I hope this fall brings, not just in my front yard, but for all of us. Things have been so dismal and depressing this past year it’s hard sometimes not to break down and cry every day over the state of the world. The end of Roe and affirmative action–a gut punch to people of color. The genocide happening in Gaza. Pregnant mothers dying preventable deaths. Mass shootings that are also preventable with gun control. A fascist, racist, senile convicted felon who has a shot at being re-elected to the White House. Es demasiado. I apologize regularly to my 19-year-old son for him inheriting the society we live in. I’ve often fantasized running away from it all. Maybe go back to Italy, where I lived for eight months 30 years ago. I could dust off my rusty Italian, right? But alas, I have roots now. I’m a homeowner. We need that in-state tuition for my kid to finish college. Adulting be adulting.
Pues, esperamos. As I write in the book, esperar in Spanish means both to wait and to hope. Hagamos los dos: we will wait and we will hope that this season brings an abundant amount of joy. We could all use some.
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