JENNIFER DE LEON IS the author of the YA novel, Don’t Ask Me Where I’m From (Simon & Schuster, 2020), which was a Junior Library Guild selection, and the Juniper Award winning essay collection White Space: Essays on Culture, Race, & Writing (UMass Press). Her newest YA novel, Borderless, is just out. Listen in and read along as she shares how to make a career writing what you know from your own experiences.
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Marion: Today, my guest is writer Jennifer De Leon. She’s the author of the novel, Don’t Ask Me Where I’m From, which topped many of the influential best of lists in 2020, and the essay collection, White Space: Essays on Culture, Race, and Writing, which was the winner of the Juniper Prize. She’s the editor of the anthology Wise Latinas: Writers on Higher Education, which was the winner of the International Latino Book Award. Her stories and essays have appeared in over a dozen literary magazines and anthologies, including Plowshares, Iowa Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Cornica and Best Women’s Travel Writing. She’s a winner of the 2016 Walter Dean Meyers Grant awarded by We Need Diverse Books, and named a 2020 Latinx Trailblazer by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. And, she has out a new young adult novel called Borderless, published by Atheneum. Welcome, Jennifer.
Jennifer: Thank you so much for having me. I’m thrilled to be here.
Marion: Well, it’s a joy and I just want to dive right in because I love this new book, I love the previous novel, I love your essays. And yet, growing up in America when I did, there was no threat that the books I read did not reflect who I was. White, middle class, educated and privileged. And you are taking us all into your world. And I want to talk, therefore, about that whole idea of not seeing ourselves on the shelves and what you’re providing here.
So for me, growing up, reading was not only that great adventure, but it was also a comfort. So let’s open our conversation with the reality of discomfort for young readers who don’t find themselves on the shelves. And keeping in mind that my audience is writers, and our hope is to encourage them to write from who they are in the fullest sense. Can you just start with that idea of discomfort and not seeing yourself on the shelf, and what that does to people?
Jennifer: Absolutely. Growing up, I didn’t read many books, actually. I didn’t get my first library card until I was in third grade, and we didn’t have many books in my home. The only two books were the Bible and the Yellow Pages, and it’s because both of those books were free. And it’s not that my parents didn’t value stories, they’re excellent storytellers, and I get so much, especially from my mother in that regard. She’s just a really talented storyteller. But books were not so much a part of my life.
Of course, that all changed when I got my library card. And even then, I thought, “Wow, I’m reading Sweet Valley High. I’m reading books by Judy Blume.” And these are books that I love to this day, The Babysitters Club. But I never saw myself reflected in them. And I really often think about Toni Morrison’s amazing quote when she said that, “If there is a book in the world that you want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you need to be the one to write it.” And I took her advice and thought, “Okay, I’m going to write the stories and the essays and the novels that I really craved growing up.” And that really inspires all of my work to kind of fill in that space on the shelf that I was logging for so much as a young person.
Marion: Oh, it’s a perfect answer. And the Bible and the Yellow Pages is such an extraordinary visual, and thank you for that generosity. That’s great. So the old adage that every writer eventually hears is to write what you know. You know about many things, including what happens when a family migrates from Guatemala, the insurmountable assignment of assimilation, the cultural conflicts presented in school, and so much more. But for many people, much of this might keep them from writing. But your brand, books, essays, education and programs speaks to writing what you know.
So, again, with thinking about these writers listening in, they want the courage to do this as well, as well as some encouragement. So what can you say to them about getting to that space of writing what you actually know?
Jennifer: I love that question, and it is something that I’ve heard in writing classes especially, right? Write what you know. But my husband, who’s also a writer, he always says, “Write what you want to know.” And I think it’s encouraging in the sense that, okay, if I have a character who is really good at sewing and quilting, which I have to tell you I am not at all, I can’t sew a button, but my character Maya in Borderless, she is an aspiring fashion designer. And so I had to learn and research and read and watch YouTube videos. What is a slip stitch, a cross-stitch, different kinds of details that would add authenticity to her character?
And I know nothing about sewing now, I know a little bit more, but it’s something that I think is so great about being a fiction writer especially, is that you can make things up, but you can also research and embed that into your characters and their lives and scenes, and really bring them to life in that way. It can be really intimidating to write about what you don’t know or what you want to know, especially with such big topics like immigration and race and education. I mean, these are huge topics to tackle.
So, I always think about what journalism professors say, which is that you want to go a mile deep, not a mile wide. And so really thinking about the specificity, again, of that character and what they’re doing in that particular scene, and using all of the sensory details that you can, and making it crystal clear for your reader so they can not only imagine it, but they can immerse themselves in that scene.
Marion: Oh, that’s just lovely. And it really brings up the question of reporting, and you did a lot of reporting. I think people, first of all, forget that no matter what the topic, reporting is on the schedule if you are a writer. And I can’t say it enough to memoir writers, they look at me like I’m out of my mind, but I know my life story. It’s like, “Well, you need to check your facts. And also, there’s a lot of reporting that you’re going to need to do.”
So let’s talk a little bit, sort of two questions about the reporting. But the first is, this is a young adult novel. It’s called Borderless, as you said, and even though you were, to some degree, writing what you know, this book required that kind of action, some reporting. You did a lot of it, in fact. First, you drew from your own family’s experiences of immigrating from Guatemala to the US. Let’s start there.
So, how did you go back and get those details? Did you do family interviews? Did you draw from memories? Did you have a photo book? My audience, again, is hungry for these pieces of knowledge, and while they forget that reporting is necessary and now we’ve reminded them, and then they say, “Well, what kind?” Did you sit your family down and say, “What do you remember? What was the worst part of this?” What did you do first starting with your family in reporting?
Jennifer: Yes. I mean, another great question. I first will say that growing up, the sort of what was it, the oxygen in every room was the fact that both of my parents had immigrated from Guatemala to the United States. My mother was 18, my father was 20, but they moved here for such different reasons. And that has always come to mind when I’m thinking about characters and motivation and what is making them act in certain ways on the page. I guess, what I mean is that my mother always wanted to come to the United States. I mean, she was ready. “Get me a one-way ticket and I want to learn English, go to school, buy a house, make money, send money back home.” But my father really only came for one reason. When he was 20, he came to Los Angeles because he wanted to make enough money to buy a motorcycle.
And he said to himself, “When I get enough money to buy a motorcycle, I’m going to go back home.” And home was always Guatemala. So again, growing up I had these two points of view. And when I write my books, I really tried to keep that in mind that there’s no one narrative, there’s no one dominant story. And what I felt was missing in literature, especially for young people, is a story of a young teen in Guatemala who loves her life, who loves her city, loves her country, and she actually, the furthest thing on her mind is coming to the United States.
So much of what we see on the news, we see caravans of people who are crossing the border, trying to cross the border, desperate and fleeing. And that is absolutely one part of the narrative. And in the book, it does eventually become a part of Maya’s narrative. But at the beginning, she is living her best life. And I wanted to really depict that on the page to show a kind of counter-narrative to so much of what, again, is in the media.
Marion: That’s great. And yet, you interviewed migrants at the border in 2019, and that’s the second part of this reporting question-
Jennifer: Yes.
Marion: … I want to ask. You did this, at the height of the crisis of children being separated from their parents, and what you saw must have been wrenching. That doesn’t even cover it, the word wrenching. So talk to me about the ability or inability to keep your distance when reporting and writing, and do we keep a distance? Can we must we, should we? What do you think?
Jennifer: Right, because as writers, we’re such empathetic people and we carry so much of the emotion. We absorb emotion from people and their stories, of course. And the ideal is to express that, even if it’s through our fictional characters. But for me, I felt that I needed to tell this story. And to give you a bit of background, this was 2018, I was very pregnant with my second son, and everybody was marching in the street kind of going to rallies and really protesting the new policies at the border. And I felt like I couldn’t participate in that physical way, I had a kind of high risk pregnancy there toward the end. And so I felt stuck and I thought, “What can I do?” And I thought about this character, Maya, and I started writing this book. But just because I was able to make up parts of the story didn’t mean that, like you said, I didn’t have to research so much.
And both of my parents are immigrants. I know several people who have crossed the border. I’ve heard stories, I’ve watched movies and documentaries, but I felt strongly that I needed to go there. And so, I applied for a grant and I went to McAllen, Texas, and I visited a humanitarian respite center. And I interviewed migrants who had been in the country, maybe 48 hours, many who were wearing the same clothes that they were wearing the day that they left their homes in El Salvador, in Guatemala, in Honduras. And it was really wrenching, as you say, to interview them and to ask them these questions. What was it like? What just happened? How are you feeling right now? And try to listen as a human being, but also as a writer with a pen, kind of listening for these details.
And what I found was people were so incredibly hopeful, and that was really surprising to me. Through everything that they had been through, there was this real aura of hope, and I really wanted to express that in the narrative as well.
Marion: Well, you do. And I would say that I can’t imagine you could have written the way you did without seeing what you saw, without getting your heart broken, to use a pretty trite phrase, but without not keeping the distance. But I really applaud you for going, and I thank you for going because it gives us that experience that we can not otherwise have. And it seems to be what you do. I mean, in your career to date, you’ve chosen to write about topics affecting teens every day: immigration, race, gang violence, code-switching, love, friendship, and much more.
And yet, you’ve chosen to write for the young adult audience about young adults. So, talk to us about that decision. I think a lot of people love YA as it’s called. I know a lot of adults, I think it’s true that the biggest YA audience is still adults.
Jennifer: Yes.
Marion: And, which I just think we should all think about. And just in terms of what that means and how valuable it is to us to have an eye that goes back to those critical years. But why did you choose YA for these stories?
Jennifer: I love YA, and I did not set out to write it. I don’t say always, but I often had young characters in my short stories and I could never get them published. I would send them out to literary magazines and editors, and I would get nice notes from time to time, “Keep writing. Send us something else, keep going. Try us again.” And one day, a former student actually emailed me information about a writing residency for children and young adult writers. And I had to Google, what is YA? I did not know.
I did not know What YA was. This was probably in 2014. And I thought, “Oh, okay, this is what it is.” So I submitted a 25-page short story, and instead of the title, I just called it Chapter One, and I made up a synopsis. And I submitted it. I did not get the fellowship that year, but I applied the next year and I did get it. But I mentioned this because I’m not someone who came out of the gate ready, hungry to write YA. I just knew that I liked writing characters that were in that adolescent phase, in that kind of crisis mode where they’re figuring out parts of their identity, and just trying to make sense of the world around them.
I also love coming of age stories because they have these inherent plot points and moments of tension because a lot of times, teens will act in narcissistic ways or in ways they’re not really thinking ahead, they’re very impulsive. And so I find it’s so great for writing fiction because the characters are already inclined to do things where you’re cringing as the reader, like, “No, don’t do that. Why are you going out with him?” But it makes so much sense for the character because they’re just thinking about the next five minutes, not the next 5 or 20 years.
So, I was really drawn to writing for young adults for that reason, on a craft level. But on a broader level, I am a teacher at heart, and I taught in Boston Public Schools for 10 years, and I still teach now at the university level. And I just love this coming of age time period. And the other practical point I should mention, which is not a small one, is that when I am speaking to young people, to students, they’re in school anyway. So when I go speak to them, they have to be there and they fill the assembly or the auditorium. Whereas, I find that when I’ve written for adults and I do a bookstore reading, you really can’t control how many people go. There might be five people, maybe if you’re lucky, 15, 20. But with schools, I get to sort of be that person who comes in and gets them out of geometry for 45 minutes.
Marion: I would’ve just loved you.
Jennifer: Yeah.
Marion: And could you pick me up out of Algebra too, please?
Jennifer: Right, right.
Marion: Yeah. Well, you’ve mentioned that you’ve taught in the Boston Public Schools and you’d serve as an Associate Professor of English at Framingham State University, and instructor in the Creative Writing and Literature Graduate Program at Harvard. And last year, you founded Story Bridge, a program designed to dismantle cultural walls by guiding participants to explore compelling stories from their own lives. And I want to just know more about that, and then I have a question after that about it.
But just talk to us a bit about, this is a very gracious thing to do. I’ll say that, and I thank you for saying it. But I want to know about, there are so many people who would like to do something with story. So just talk a little bit about getting an idea like that in your head and saying, “Hmm, a program. Well, I’m going to do this.” How did you get that done?
Jennifer: Yes. Well, I’m still getting it done. I feel like I’m kind of flying the plane as you’re making it, or vice versa. But I feel like that’s writing too. You’re writing a novel, you don’t really know how it’s going to end, and you don’t know all of the plot points, but you can’t know until you do it. So there’s some parallels to creating this Story Bridge program, which I’m really excited about. I have found that there are many DEI programs, so diversity, equity and inclusion programs around the country and in schools and colleges, companies, and there are many storytelling workshops, centers, again, universities. But there were very few programs, if any, that combined both of them. And I saw that as a missed opportunity because stories, I believe, are the way that we understand each other, it’s a way that we can grow connected, and it’s a way to really kind of enter someone else’s point of view.
And I thought, “I’m going to try this. I’m going to do this.” And I started small. My husband and I would lead workshops, maybe three hour workshops that then turned into six hours, that then turned into multi-week workshops. And most recently, we worked with an entire school district in Massachusetts, and we guided 10 cohort members who didn’t know each other before. Maybe they’d seen each other at the library or at the supermarket, but they didn’t really know each other. And we guided them through the process of choosing a story, a personal story about some aspect of their identity, and then we help them shape it, really revise it, and then practice it for a performance.
And it’s all oral storytelling. And then they perform it at a final showcase for a large audience. And it was really successful. And so many people shared that they’d been living in this town for years and they’d seen that person, but they’ve never really interacted with them or had no idea about this aspect of their identity. And really, the best part is seeing people in the audience who then feel courageous to share their own stories. I mean, yeah, it has a ripple effect in that way.
Marion: That’s a beautiful intent and a tremendous thing that you’ve achieved there.
Jennifer: Thank you.
Marion: So, it also makes you the perfect person to ask this question. And putting it literally, I want this to come from you and about your storytelling. What happens to us when we write our tales?
Jennifer: For me, when I write, when I am writing honestly and vulnerably, something lifts. It feels almost physical, like I am letting something go, but I’m also giving something to the world. I heard this wonderful phrase before, or quote, that, “A candle does not lose anything by lighting another candle.” And writing for me is that way. When I’m sharing truthfully, I really feel that I’m giving someone else permission to share their truth. And the best days are when I get emails or DMs from people, young people as well, but all people who are saying, “I just read this essay about your father and I cried for 20 minutes, and I had to send you an email.” And they just pour their hearts out, and it gives them courage to write their own stories. And I just feel like that’s the highest compliment I can get as a writer.
Marion: It is. And let’s flip that around. The great Maya Angelou teaches us that, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” So, what’s your observation about the dangers of keeping our stories to ourselves?
Jennifer: It’s just what you said. It’s a danger. I think that when we keep these stories inside us, it can’t have a physical effect, and it keeps us closed. It keeps us from connecting with others, even though it’s very close to us. In our society now, there seems to be this false connection, right, with social media and everybody’s busy, but that’s not the same thing as having these unique opportunities to actually hear someone’s story and connect and listen wholly and fully. Not with 20 tabs open on your computer or while you’re scrolling at a traffic light, which you should never do. It’s just, we live in that kind of world right now where everything’s busy, busy, busy. So having these stories dormant inside of us, I think it’s time to get them out, time to spark them.
Marion: I agree. So as we wrap this up, give me a sense of you in Boston, in your home life, in your mothering life, in your daughter life. Are you carrying a notebook with you? Are you speaking into your phone? Are you jotting things down in the middle of the night? What’s the practical, hospitable thing that you are, as a writer, that allows you to have all these lives, listening to the husband, playing with the kids, listening to your… Right? But we all know, you catch these snatches of things in the air. You have these ideas. You’re looking one way and something else is coming in the side of your head. So, what is it? A notebook? A phone? How are you getting that down every day and keeping it?
Jennifer: Yeah. Well, I’m glad you cannot see my desk right now because it looks like a bomb went off. That’s my creative space, and I’m okay with it. My husband’s desk looks very different, which is why it’s good we each have our own rooms. But I will say that something that is my anchor is this practice called Morning Pages, which Julia Cameron writes about in The Artist’s Way. And I read that book when I was 18 years old. And throughout my life, I’ve come back to Morning Pages again and again.
And I will say that when I’m consistently writing Morning Pages, which is writing three pages long-hand, first thing in the morning, even before you check the weather, email, I find that everything else flows very smoothly if I’m doing that. I’m a better parent, I’m a better daughter, I’m a better wife, and I just feel more anchored because I started the day off by kind of clearing the windshield in that way, and honoring my art and my work in the world.
Marion: Perfect. Thank you, Jennifer. It’s just been a joy to talk with you, and I wish you all the best with this. This episode will run just at pub date, and we’re just real excited to promote this beautiful new book of yours.
Jennifer: Oh, thank you.
Marion: Thank you so much.
Jennifer: Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.
Marion: The writer is Jennifer De Leon. Her new book is Borderless, just out from Atheneum. See more on her at jenniferdeleonauthor dot com. I’m Marion Roach Smith, and you’ve been listening to QWERTY. QWERTY is produced by Overit Studios in Albany, New York. Reach them at overitstudios dot com. Our producer is Adam Clairmont, our assistant is Lorna Bailey.
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