Elizabeth Acevedo Is the YA Author I Wish I'd Had as a Kid

From Oprah Magazine

When I closed Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo earlier this summer, I felt both satisfied and melancholy. Satisfied by the book’s lyrical prose-in-verse, as well as its hopeful ending; melancholy because the tale of two teenage sisters in New York and the Dominican Republic was so good, I mourned the fact that my preteen self didn’t have a book just like it.

I felt similarly when I read Acevedo’s previous two novels: The National Book Award-winning The Poet X, a coming-of-age novel-in-verse about a teen growing up in Harlem, and her follow-up With the Fire on High, a magical realist story of a teenage single mom who dreams of becoming a chef.

But unlike many of the YA novels I read myself as a teenager, I actually saw pieces of my own journey reflected in each of Acevedo's protagonists. I had many of the same body image struggles as The Poet X’s curvy Xiomara; With the Fire on High’s Emoni is half Puerto Rican and half Black, just like me; and as a teen, I knew too well the dichotomy that occurs when your culture and family is from one place, but you live in another, like Clap When You Land’s Yahaira.

In the wake of the death of George Floyd and the amplification of the Black Lives Matter movement, our culture is—finally—talking a lot more about representation. But just as it matters for TV, movies, and media, representation matters on bookshelves, too. When I was an awkward bi-racial teen with frizzy hair amongst a sea of white classmates, seeing Acevedo’s colorful covers featuring brown skinned teens with lush curls—and reading about their similar insecurities—would have worked wonders for my self-esteem.

Still, even now as an adult, I appreciate Acevedo’s work, which I've found just as addicting in my 30s as it might be to a middle or high schooler. And that’s because of the New York Times bestselling author's gift of delivering straightforward yet moving coming-of-age tales that perfectly depict the experience of being “in-between,” whether that’s between young adult and an adult, or between cultures.

In Clap When You Land, which tells the story of two sisters—Camino, who lives in the Dominican Republic, and Yahaira, who lives in New York—who only discover they're related after their father dies in a plane crash, Yahaira narrates: "I was raised so damn Dominican. Spanish my first language, bachata a reminder of the power of my body, platano and salami for years before I ever tasted peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. If you asked me what I was, & you meant in terms of culture, I’d say Dominican. No hesitation, no question about it. Can you be from a place you have never been? You can find the island stamped all over me, but what would the island find if I was there? Can you claim a home that does not know you, much less claim you as its own?” As a proud Puerto Rican who has been told she's not that Puerto Rican, being third generation, that verse stuck with me long after I finished the book.

A poet first—several of her slam poetry videos have gone viral over the years, including one on her Afro-Latina identity—with her first novel, Acevedo became somewhat of a literary wunderkind, and is now widely regarded as one of the most essential voices for today’s young adult generation, particularly for Black and Latinx teens. And not only has the now 32-year-old made waves as a Latinx writer herself, but she’s also a vocal proponent for other writers of color, helping to increase visibility for YA books and beyond on her social media platforms.

While Acevedo was working from home in Washington, D.C., we chatted via phone about her latest novel, and why she’ll never stop writing for young Black and brown girls.

Clap When You Land came out on May 5, still at the beginning stages of the pandemic. What was it like releasing a book during that time?

I had been planning my book tour for a while, and I’m not going to lie, I was excited. I had different speaking engagements, venues, and book stores lined up: Two weeks in the U.S., two weeks in the U.K. But even around mid March when my U.K. publisher decided to cancel everything, I still thought, “Well, maybe by May…” Obviously, that didn’t happen. It was a huge disappointment, because as an author, you look forward to getting in front of people and explaining why I wrote this thing, hoping they’ll be as excited as me. I had my little tears, because you know—I had expectations and all my outfits ready. [Laughs]

But I think it worked out in a way that I’m actually really thankful for. I had to be a lot more innovative and learn some new online skills. I think it also helped that folks were anticipating a book, and I think during the times we’re living in, people want something to look forward to, so I think my community was appreciative that it still came on time and wasn’t delayed—a thing they could lose themselves in. So in many ways I think it worked out even better than I could have imagined.

In the author’s note of Clap When You Land (which I devoured in a weekend) you share the book was inspired by the real life Flight AA587, which crashed in 2001 en route to the Dominican Republic—a story that was largely lost in the wake of the 9/11 news. What made you say “This is the next story I need to tell?”

I was experimenting a lot with what this story would be; I knew I wanted it to be about the crash, and I knew the father would have a secret. And at first, it was only told from the one perspective, from Yahaira, but over time...I was actually talking with Ibi Zoboi, who wrote American Street—a Haitian author also based out of the New York area—and she said, 'You need the voice of that second sister.' So I realized the story needed to become more expansive. I had to give the sister in the Dominican Republic, Camino, her own secrets—her own desires and wishes. It started being about the crash and it really became about how two girls navigate a patriarchal world that doesn’t serve them. The book became almost like an ode to the ways that women step out from the ghosts of the men that haunt them. That was not what I had anticipated writing, but it evolved!

The covers of all of your books are so beautiful, but I love that this one featured two very different side-by-side representations of what Latinas or Dominicanas can look like.

The cover was done by Bijou Karman. I had a Pinterest board that I created when I was working on this book that I sent to the design team, and because the book touches on colorism, I wanted that to be very visible from the jump. I’m no artist but one thing I always talk to my publishers about is not just the cover, but the packaging. What do we want to represent?

When did you first fall in love with the art of poetry and verse?

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. I was born and raised in New York City, and both of my parents are from the Dominican Republic. So I grew up in a very oral tradition of storytelling. My earliest memories are of my mom telling me about the Dominican Republic and these fantastical stories of her childhood adventures. That was the fairytale that I grew up listening to. And then my brothers loved hip-hop, so I grew up listening to a lot of Big Pun and Tupac and Jay-Z and Nas and then like the bachata and bolero of my parents and their stories and our neighborhood...I think all of that converged into this little voice that was like Hey, you have a story too.

My earliest journey into poetry was songwriting and rap around 12 years old, talking about my neighborhood and the issues that I read about in school, and using poetry to do that. I began kind of rapping in the neighborhood, joining little cyphers, and trying to show the “old heads” my little poems. When I got to high school, I joined the poetry club and from there, that’s when I discovered slam. My dream was, Hey, maybe one day I’ll be kicking it, and Jay-Z will roll by the block, and I’ll have my verse ready.

You have since emerged as such an important voice for the YA genre, but—obviously, since I’m a huge fan and I’m in my 30’s—your books can be enjoyed by all ages. But, what is it about the young adult audience that you love writing for?

So I started out as English teacher in Prince George's County, Maryland, and I worked with 150 kids, from the ages of 13-15, mostly Latinx kids. It was the first time they ever had a Latina teacher, and the first time they’d also had an Afro-Latina teacher. So there I am in this space with students who are not at reading level, and I’m frantically trying to get them up to speed and to see the value of literacy. I had a student who shared, “None of these books are about us.” That was really the switch for me. That was the moment of, “I’ve been writing poetry and I’ve been performing for as long as I can remember, but my students can’t carry that in their book bags.” I wanted to give them something tangible. There was an immense need there that felt really important.

At first I didn’t know if I would have multiple books. I sat down to write The Poet X and kind of failed. I wrote a fantasy novel, and a lot of people don’t know, I actually then went and wrote With the Fire on High. Then I returned to The Poet X, and I wrote Clap When You Land. People think I’ve been writing these three books very quickly, when actually I’ve been writing for the last eight years trying to figure out what’s the voice and what’s the story I’m trying to tell.

Now, I’m slowly working on a poetry collection as well as an adult novel, so I think that I’m finally ready to try new things. But I do have a soft spot for kids lit, and I don’t think that I’ll ever not write for teenagers. I think it’s critical that young women of color in particular see books that represent them tenderly and with love, that remind them that you are powerful and there is no template. So I’m going to give then a bunch of different kinds of characters that are Afro-Latina that show the many different ways we can move through the world, as an affirmation that whatever kind of young women you’re trying to be—it’s dope. You don’t need any blueprint.

Are there other YA authors in the space that have influenced you, or whose work you admire?

Oh for sure. Ibi Zoboi, who I mentioned, is huge. Meg Medina–I remember seeing Meg Medina read in 2013 at a small little bookstore in Spanish Harlem and being like, “Yo, she is a firehouse!” Her voice is incredible; there’s a reason she won that Newbery. Nic Stone is super dope. Claribel Ortega, who’s also Dominican, is coming out with a middle-grade novel that I’m super excited to read, about ghosts and a little abuelita. I also love Daniel José Older. It’s a really exciting time in YA right now... There are so many good people crafting very weird and wonderful and true stories.

As a writer and author myself, I need to nerd out a little bit. What’s your creative process like?

Every book is different. I’ve always been in a different place when I’m writing my books, and by that I mean my touring schedule changed dramatically over the last six years, so I’d either be on the road, or I don’t have summers, or I only have two months a year where I can write. So with The Poet X, I was able to sit down every morning at 9 o’clock, and I was working until noon. With the Fire on High, it was written during National Novel Writing Month, so I just sat down every single day, wrote my 1,600 words, and then shelved it for 5 years before going back and being like, “Oh, there might be a story here.” And I heavily revised the s*** of that book for four months.

Clap When You Land, on and off, I wrote the entire thing in Yahaira’s voice and then realized it was missing something, and I had to go back in and rewrite all of Camino’s section, and then figure out how to intersperse them in a way that felt clear and cohesive. And that was a very on and off process. And a novel in verse takes a lot of time to figure out the story, because so much of it you’re writing in a character's head, but there’s not necessarily action. So I can get really lost with 200 pages of poetry, but I don’t know if it’s going anywhere.

The Poet X and Clap When You Land are novels-as-verse, but With the Fire On High is not. How do you decide if a novel should be written in verse?

It’s really just what’s the best container for this voice. Sometimes it feels like verse lets you get a little closer inside a character’s head. But With The Fire on High, because of the fact that she goes to Spain, and the magical realism, and also that she has a baby...there was a bigger cast, so I needed more words to tell that story, and I didn’t want to write an 800-page novel in verse. But I also don’t want to be pegged as a verse novelist. I want the room to be able to say, "I write many different kinds of things.” It felt important for me, with my second book, to be thoughtful about pushing against the expectations.

What has been some of the most fulfilling feedback that you’ve gotten from your readers?

I was hopeful that my first book would have a splash, but I had no idea the reception my work would get. As a writer, you watch Twitter, you watch online, and you’re like Wow, these authors are so cool. But I had no idea I’d actually become one of them. The notes that people send me are like, “I bought the book, and also bought it for my mom, and we’re reading it together.” Or mothers who reach out to me and say my book made them rethink their relationships with their daughter, or say things like, “I haven’t thought about my experiences as a teenager for 40 years, since I lived in Puerto Rico and my mother burned my journal.”

And then there are those who say, "I don’t like poetry, I don’t like verse," or, "This is YA and I don’t even like adult literature." And then they arrive somewhere different. I think that’s remarkable. More than awards or reviews, I’m astounded by that.

The book industry still has a long way to go when it comes to inclusivity, but authors like you and many of the ones you’ve mentioned are paving the way. What’s your advice for any writers of color who feel they have a story to tell, but don’t think there’s a place for them to tell it?

I hope that the work that I’m doing is able to open the door for what is possible from voices that often aren’t amplified. I think the publishing industry needs to change, and people are finally paying attention. It’s a good time to shake it up. And I think we need to push even beyond writers. If you love books and you think that you are able to contribute to the world of books, whether as a graphic designer, an editor, a copy editor, a publicist, a marketer, we need more folks of different backgrounds in these spaces to make it easier for us to tell stories that matter.

People think that it’s just writing, but it’s the gatekeepers too. It’s the people making your covers, the folks writing your blurbs. Everybody has to be on board. We have to be in the room. And so if there’s any desire, I hope that folks shoot their shot, because when better to reimagine the world than in this moment?

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