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Q&A with Patrice Gopo, author of All the Colors We Will See

cover image for All the Colors We Will See

“There are stories, unknown stories that roll across the salty waves of the open sea. Unknown stories contained in the hulls of run-down ships carrying enslaved human beings. And there are known stories of my Indian ancestors arriving on Jamaican shores. I am a story, and I cling to the known parts because maybe in that act I remember and also remind others how much has been taken, erased, and lost. I am here….”

~ Patrice Gopo, All the Colors We Will See

“I am a story, and I cling to the known parts….” I love that line from Patrice Gopo’s new collection of essays, All the Colors We Will See. Stories play such important roles in our lives. They help us remember; they connect us, teach us, inspire us. Those connections are not always ties of familiarity, but they are pathways to conversation. The lessons we learn by reading about others’ experiences translates into new understandings of our own. When we ask questions, when we listen, we find inspiration. Through stories, we transcend.

In All the Colors We Will See, Gopo takes readers on a journey to discover new meanings FROM her past, new pathways to understanding her future, a journey of awareness and acceptance. We read about Jamaican immigrants living in Alaska, a black family attending a mostly-white church in North Carolina, and the definition of being black–is it race? ethnicity? experience?

I’m honored to host Patrice to talk about her new book and excited to offer a giveaway! Enter by Tuesday, January 22nd, for a chance to win a copy of All the Colors We Will See.

Now, welcome Patrice Gopo!

Christi Craig (CC): You’ve written a beautiful collection of essays about place, identity, being seen, and finding your voice. Is there a particular piece in All the Colors We Will See from which the rest of the book blossomed?

Patrice Gopo (PG): Christi, thank you so much for those kind words. I love the way you express the collection as also about being seen and finding voice.

I think those are accurate descriptors and remind me of one of the first essays I ever drafted, “Caught in the Year of OJ Simpson and Huckleberry Finn.” Being seen and finding voice (or not finding voice) were definite themes in that piece.

I wouldn’t say the collection as a whole blossomed from the Huck Finn essay, but this was one of the first essays I ever wrote that would go on to become part of the collection. An early draft of the Huck Finn essay and an early draft of another essay set the stage for the themes that would continue to resurface in my work. Themes around belonging and identity formation, around race and movement of people. These themes would become a sort of compass pointing me to a reality that there existed a much larger work, a collection.

CC: In “A Note to a College Classmate” you write about reading Ellison’s Invisible Man and suddenly being thrown into a discussion where you become the voice of many; in “Marching Toward Zion” you sort through experience and feelings around attending a white church, your need to belong versus your desire to “linger at the edge” in order to stay true to self. You ask, “How can we keep from becoming worn?” Your writing is not only full of insight into your experience but pulls the reader into moments of her own self-reflection. What is one thing you hope readers will carry away with them as they reach the last pages your book?

PG: Ever since All the Colors We Will See entered the world, I regularly receive lovely notes from people who share how much this book meant to them. Some of these people share much overlap with me in terms of personal experience and some don’t. What I find interesting, though, is that at some level, in some way, people connect with the words I write. For people who connect at a deep level—perhaps they are also a person of color, perhaps they are the child of immigrants—my hope is that they will finish this book with a sense of affirmation that their story matters out there in the world, that there is space for them to fully be who they are. And for people who might connect with some elements of my story but also read about a world or life distant from their own, I hope they will carry with them a new perspective, a new way of looking at the world.

CC: In your talk “Our Stories Matter: Seeing Ourselves, Seeing Others, and Seeing Our God” (on Soundcloud), you say:

The specificity of our stories matters . . . . We no longer reduce people to the binary of same or different. Instead, we begin to see people for the fullness of who they are and who God created them to be . . . . We can listen and we can learn. And we can be transformed.

How has writing this book transformed you and your work as author and speaker?

PG: Thanks so much for listening to that talk! Writing has been instrumental in transforming my work as an author and speaker. I’m passionate about words and about sharing my story and adding my experience to our current conversations about race and immigration. However, in the process of writing and sharing my story, I discovered I also care about the way sharing personal stories can help shift people’s mindsets in pursuit of healing in society and in pursuit of a more equitable world.

I love helping people see that sharing their stories in the world matters too—even if they never write a personal essay or write a book like I did. That’s why in conjunction with my own writing, I’m actively engaged with communicating the message of the power of personal storytelling. Since my book entered the world, I’ve had the immense privilege of sharing this truth in all types of environments: corporate settings, libraries, nonprofit organizations, churches, conferences, public discussions, etc. I absolutely delight in the way people engage with the reality that they can identify their stories and they can share them too.

CC: What are you reading these days?

PG: I’m one who tends to keep a number of books in the stack beside my bed, reading chapters here, poems there. I just finished Michelle Obama’s wonderful memoir. I mentioned to someone that in Michelle’s book, she offers so many ways in which a reader might connect with her experience. Invitations to connect and opportunities to also see something different. I also just finished Radium Girls by Kate Moore. A fascinating, tragic, and inspiring book about a topic I knew nothing about until I started reading. I’m currently reading Create Dangerously: the Immigrant Artist at Work by Edwidge Danticat. I’m intrigued with her words and the way I feel some points of connection as the daughter of immigrants but then also there’s the invitation to see something more because I am the daughter of immigrants to the United States and not an immigrant to the United States myself. And the poetry collection in my currently-reading stack is Dead on Arrival by Jaki Shelton Green.

And one more, I just learned about LaTanya McQueen’s new essay collection, And It Begins Like This. From what I gather, she also explores themes around race and belonging, so I’m anxious to dive into this one.

CC: As you move into a new year of writing, what do you look forward to most?

PG: Honestly, I’m looking forward to the unfolding of what might be next. It was a very busy autumn for me with the launch of All the Colors We Will See. Now as life is settling into perhaps the new normal, I’m anticipating a bit more rest and bit more time for my mind to start considering my next creative endeavor. I’m not yet sure what that might be, but I do trust the process and believe what’s next will unfold as and when it should. In the meantime, I’m excited about a few ideas I have to empower others to share their stories that I’ll be rolling out probably in February. I’m also thrilled to have written the curriculum for “Beautiful Truth,” an exciting program here in Charlotte. If you’d like to hear more about my plans to help others identify and share their stories, you can subscribe to my newsletter HERE.

Patrice Gopo is the author of All the Colors We Will See, an essay collection about race, immigration, and belonging. She is the recipient of a North Carolina Arts Council Literature Fellowship, and her book is a Fall 2018 Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers selection. Patrice lives with her family in North Carolina. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

DON’T FORGET! Enter the giveaway by Tuesday, January 22nd, for a chance to win a copy of All the Colors We Will See.

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Your Next Book Study:
The Emotional Craft of Fiction by Donald Maass

“Emotional craft isn’t a repackaging of old writing bromides. It’s a way of understanding what causes emotional impact on readers and deliberately using those methods. It’s a way to energize your writing with tools that are always available: your own feelings.” ~ from The Emotional Craft of Fiction by Donald Maass

What makes for a great story, strong prose or strong plot? Both. And then some.

I’ve read stories and books where, once at the end, I feel like I missed something. The imagery is there, the writing impeccable, the plot a real page-turner. But the book as a whole? Maybe I couldn’t put it down, but I probably won’t pick it up again either.

Having finished my current read on writing, Donald Maass’ The Emotional Craft of Fiction (Writer’s Digest Books 2016), it’s clear why a story may fall flat: the writer doesn’t go deep enough.

The writer (okay, I’ll say this writer) mistakenly assumes that writing in scene or using colorful details or well-planned white space are all you need to guide the reader along a protagonist’s rise or fall or road to redemption. Those techniques strengthen the story for sure, but as Maass says, “Strong writing doesn’t always produce strong feeling.” And that’s when the reader may lose interest.

So “dig deeper,” we often hear in critique. But what does that really mean? If you’re like me, you need specifics; you need concrete questions; you need relatable explanations.

Donald Maass offers all this and more in his new book on emotional craft, which is structured in a way best described as scaffolding. He begins with what many writers already know: the pros and cons of showing versus telling, the crucial tools of writing (like the art of voice and the importance of details), and aspects of plot–all necessary for a successful story. But then, he asks us to go beyond those essentials and infuse our fiction with an emotional journey that will hook the reader and leave him with a lasting impression.

He asks us to examine how we might surprise the reader. For example, reconsider details and incorporate the ones that carry the most emotional weight. Or, explore a character’s inner condition in more depth and show that through a description of the environment. That one really hit home for me, as I tend to focus on scene and setting to convey the tone of the story but forget about weaving in more pointed words or phrases that subtly reveal the character’s mood, not just what they see. Along with his suggestions, Maass incorporates a list of specific questions that will help writers work through these deeper explorations.

But most importantly, for me anyway, is the way Maass introduces new concepts (or new ways to look at old concepts) by tying them to our own every-day emotional experiences. He says, as humans, we are constantly in a state of change, our feelings are complicated, we reflect then act, act then reflect. These characteristics of humanity can be–and should be–an integral part of our stories. If we’re writing to connect, as so often we are (as so often I am), then why not build from what we and our readers already know, whether the story is fiction or not.

Okay, that last bit about whether we’re tackling fiction or not is something I added, because as with many craft books I’ve read, the learning I take away from these pages on emotional craft has begun to permeate other avenues of my writing. Maass focuses on fiction, specifically novels, and yes, I can see clearly why the novel I’m working on isn’t reading as well as I want (why it feels so sophomoric), but I am also considering his same questions and suggestions in my nonfiction.

I’m writing an essay about my experience swimming in Lake Superior and one on dismantling my mother’s home after she died. There are primary feelings attached to both of these events, but those basic emotions don’t tell the real story. As I look closer at what I’ve written, what manifests as anger may really be a mask for fear; what shows up as grief might later prove to be guilt. Underneath initial reactions to whatever event, there’s likely another more complicated, uncomfortable, revealing feeling.

There’s the crux of your story.

And that’s the key Maass gives us in his book: a better way to writing these more complex, disconcerting emotions that bring a reader closer to the story and kick-start the reader’s desire for self-reflection, so that your work becomes more than just a quick read, a well-written essay, a novel read once and forgotten.

There’s plenty more I could say, but I’ll leave you with a last (and another favorite) quote from the book that does exactly what Maass teaches throughout, one that hits on an emotion many struggling writers already understand, without telling us straight up what we’re reading about…hope:

…we have everything we need to tell stories full of human authenticity and emotional truth. . . . You don’t need more years, manuscripts, acceptance, likes, stars, movie deals, money, or anything else material to be a true novelist. You are that novelist already because you are human.

Buy the book, Check out one of Donald Maass’ upcoming three-day workshops on Emotional Craft. Start a book study with your most trusted writing friends. This paperback on craft is one worth keeping and re-reading.

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Q&A with the Editors of Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation

“We dug deep and pushed seeds / from locked away vaults / into the earth so gentle we pushed / and we wondered if the past / could be reborn.”
~ from “Fairy Tales & Other Species of Life” (Chloe N. Clark)
in Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation

When I met my husband, we got to know each other by talking about all the plays and musicals we acted in during high school (Him: Guys and Dolls. Me: Li’l Abner. Him: Oliver. Me: Greater Tuna). We had a lot in common, until later when we talked books. He asked if I’d ever read Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I said no. He balked, I shrugged. We still got married.

brightly colored cover image for Sunvault

I didn’t read science fiction then, and I don’t read much now. But when I heard about Sunvault: Stories of Solarpunk and Eco-Speculation (Upper Rubber Boot Books, 2017), I was intrigued, especially with the subtitle.

I’ve enjoyed speculative fiction over the years (Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, Hillary Jordan’s When She Woke), and I know of the word STEAMpunk (though I can only envision what it looks like, not how it reads). How “solar” and “eco” fit into the mix, I wasn’t sure. At first glance of Sunvault’s cover, though, I was ready to dive into the pages. The Editors’ Note, then, ensured I knew what to expect:

Often [in Science Fiction], the environment was an antagonist, already destroyed to the point of no return, or simply not a consideration. . . . [Solarpunk] emphasizes innovative interaction with both our communities and our environment; socio-environmental thought and creation, rather than merely survival in a decaying world….

These days, a positive focus on the connection between human and environment is worth investigating. Sure the stories may be fiction, the art futuristic, but as Donald Maass says in The Emotional Craft of Fiction, “the purpose of stories is not only to change characters, but also to point the way to a change in us all.”

Meaning, a story imagined is still built on some thread of truth; we should pay attention.

The stories, poems, and art in Sunvault look to a future when humans cooperate with the natural world rather than use and abuse it, and the book as a whole paves way for discussion of such possibilities. In today’s Q&A with Editors Phoebe Wagner and Brontë Christopher Wieland, we learn more about the genre, the stories, and the aspirations behind the collection. Plus, there’s a giveaway: you just might win a copy of Sunvault, with its cool cover and wonderful works! CLICK HERE to enter the giveaway (deadline: Aug. 29th).

Now welcome Editors Phoebe and Brontë!

Christi Craig (CC): There’s plenty to love about Sunvault, from the introductory notes on the genre of Solarpunk (for new readers like me) to the stories and poems (of course!). But what struck me immediately when I cracked open the pages was the list of contributors–such diversity! Writers of color, international authors, an excellent balance of men and women. Can you tell us a little about how this project began and one of the keys to reaching such a wide range of writers and artists?

Phoebe Wagner (PW): When Brontë and I met in fall of 2015 in Iowa, we bonded over our love of speculative fiction—we were the only two fiction writers dedicated to the genre in our year. Especially in 2015, the speculative trend involved a lot of negativity and dystopian settings, which, don’t get me wrong, I love a good dystopian romp, but I was tired of feeling hopeless. I love happy endings, and I grew up on positive stories like The Lord of the Rings and A Wrinkle in Time. Brontë and I had been tossing around the idea of editing an anthology together (because graduate students have loads of downtime), when I came across a post by Kdhume on Tumblr about solarpunk. The –punk genres have always inspired me, and this new –punk genre with a focus on environment, socio-environmental issues, community, and positivity seemed like something I wanted to be a part of.

As for the diversity, we are both passionate about seeing diversity in publishing, particularly in our home genre of SF. To that end, we commissioned work which helped set the atmosphere when submissions opened. Solarpunk naturally attracts a diverse audience since the genre is dedicated to diverse communities, and we wanted to honor that. Consider that the first true solarpunk anthology was published in Portuguese in 2012 (though World Weaver Press is working on translating it!). This movement is global.

Brontë Christopher Wieland (BW): From the beginning, we knew we wanted this anthology to represent as many perspectives, places, genders, and groups of people as possible, so we made sure to reach out to various communities and ask explicitly to see work from them. In our call for submissions, we encouraged writers from marginalized and underrepresented communities to submit. We also worked hard to spread our message widely on social media, especially Twitter where there’s a thriving and beautiful community of SF writers.

Cropped version of Carlin Reynolds' drawingCC: Speaking of artists, I’ve been studying the artwork you include (Carlin Reynolds’ “Radio Silence” [see cropped image to right] is one of my favorites). The pieces appear to be drawings in pencil or ink, a simplicity in the choice of medium that matches many of the stories as they focus on new beginnings and a back-to-basics kind of living. The images themselves, though, are all but simple; full of intricate detail, they each warrant thoughtful discussion on their own. In your original call for artwork, did you aim for a certain style? Or, what did you hope to receive?

PW: “Radio Silence” was a perfect submission since it fit so well with Iona Sharma’s “Eight Cities.” Solarpunk does have roots in art nouveau style, which we mentioned, but more broadly, we wanted to see how artists interrupted the ideas of solarpunk. Since we were limited in the types of images we could print (mainly black and white), we pitched the idea of the art being like coloring book pages, so each reader could, if desired, personalize Sunvault.

BW: Mostly, I think we hoped to see what images solarpunk conjured in artists without our stylistic input. We wanted to see how many interpretations of the ideas we described were out there, and we found some really beautiful work!

CC: Kristine Ong Muslim’s “Boltzmann Brain” is a powerful piece of flash, depicting one after another of ecological disaster but maintaining a sense of optimism to the end. I love, too, how each new section opens with “We hope you are out there, and you are reading this message.” What do you hope readers will take away from this collection?

PW: I hope readers feel encouraged to become engaged, that it isn’t hopeless. We have a hard road ahead when it comes to climate change and social justice. This summer has seen America pull out of the Paris Climate Agreement, and I’m still sick over the domestic terrorism in Charlottesville. It does not feel like a hopeful time. I hope the stories, poems, and art in Sunvault will encourage small and large actions, encourage resistance, and bring joy. It’s hard not to smile when I look at Likhain’s bright cover.

BW: Hope, courage, inspiration, and new ways of thinking about how we approach our world, especially in terms of physical and social environments. Much of the work in Sunvault revolves around fighting for a better, more just world, and that message is even more valuable now than it was when we started work on the book.

CC: What did you love most about editing this collection as a team?

PW: First off, it was just plain old fun. While I love working with Brontë in general, having someone with different interests, experiences, strengths was vital. It was nice to tag team with him, too, since grad school has a tendency to dictate when you can do stuff. If one of us had a stack of papers that needed to be graded, the other could shoulder more work.

BW: Having a separate perspective on each piece illuminated my own thoughts about each submission. There were times that Phoebe saw value in a piece that hadn’t initially grabbed me (and vice versa), and it always lead to lively discussion and important time spent rereading stories and expanding my idea of what the book would be. Sunvault would look so much different if either of us had done it alone, and it’s much, much better because we worked together.

CC: Now that your editing work on Sunvault is done, what are you reading these days?

PW: I finished The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin and it blew my mind. While not exactly solarpunk, there are a lot of similar themes. I’ve also been on a YA reading streak these days and loved Daniel Jose Older’s Shadowshaper.

BW: As always, I haven’t been reading as much or as widely as I’d like to be. Recently I’ve been diving deeply into Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed and Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz’s An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States, both of which I’m using to shape my teaching for the upcoming semester. I also just finished Wizard of the Crow by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o and When the Ground Turns in Its Sleep by Sylvia Sellers-García.

Phoebe Wagner grew up in Pennsylvania, the third generation to live in the Susquehanna River Valley. She spent her days among the endless hills pretending to be an elf, and, eventually, earned a B.A. in English: Creative Writing from Lycoming College. She is an MFA candidate in Creative Writing and Environment at Iowa State University. Follow her on Twitter: @pheebs_w.

Brontë Christopher Wieland is an MFA candidate in Creative Writing and Environment at Iowa State University where he thinks about how language, culture, and storytelling shape the world around us. In 2014, he earned his Bachelor’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison in Mathematics and Lingustics. His fiction has appeared in Flash Fiction Online and Hypertext Magazine. Follow him on Twitter: @BeezyAl.

REMEMBER: Enter the giveaway for a chance to win a copy of Sunvault!