Sherri Winston's Blog

I admit it:

I have a problem. My name is Sherri Winston and for years I’ve had a terrible addiction. It’s …art supplies!

Colored pencils, watercolor pencils, ink pens, ink pads, ink quills, markers, greaphite, sketchbooks, watercolor paper–somebody help me!

As you may know, I happen to be an author. I take authoring very seriously. I love storytelling and visualizing a world, situation or character and navigating their journey, That’s my thing.

But for as long as I can remember, art has been my thing, too. I love expressing myself with drawings. I dream of one day selling art prints and maybe even one day original works. But year after year I acquire so many art materials and the sheer volume of possibilities paralyzes me.

Then I get caught up up the looping thought process of “what kind of artist am I?”

Ooo, baybeee! I’ve got it bad.

Whether you’re an aspiring writer, artist, poet or any other creator looking for a boost to get started, finding your tribe is essential. Come join me as I unravel my publishing process and hopefully reveal nuggets of wisdom and insight that might encourage someone else to take the next step in their journey.

And have mercy, perhaps I can stop treating my art supplies like they are so precious and actually start using them. Fingers crossed.

Come on, y’all. We can do this!

School is officia!ly in session–for some, it’s been in swing for a week or more.

Thanks to the National Book Foundation’s generosity, several copies of my books were purchased to hand out to children, many of whom may not be able to afford books. And I was invited to speak to the children and sign books in Tampa, Fla.

What a great time!

I first visited a branch of a Hillsborough County’s library for a talk heavily attended by the community and members of the parenting organization, Mocha Moms. Shout out to all the mommies who brought their children and encouraged them to read, to listen, to learn.

The next day was an event at a community center where backpacks filled with, among other things, my books, were being passed out. Music, food and books—now that’s my kind of event.

Hey everybody!

The past twelve months have been very busy. I’ve had deadlines coming out of my ears. A new book I’ve wanted to write for a long time finally came to life. More about the new book later. 

Here’s a look at trips from Boston to San Antonio to Washington, D.C.

Conferences, travel and wine

I’m a finalist!

Shakita’s struggle to be a normal 12-year-old while stepping up to care for her little sister and neurodivergent younger brother is exhausting. But she can’t let her family be separated again–not again. They were just reunited after spending the summer in foster care. Mama made mistakes. But this time, mama promises things will be different. Only the more promises mama makes, the more stressed Kita becomes. And the more stressed she becomes, the worse the nightmares, the tension and feeling of a scream she can’t set free seem to get.

For the category I’m in, Shark Teeth is up against Saniyyah’s War by Hiba Noor Kahn. It is enchanting and beautiful and haunting. I feel humbled to have my book mentioned in the same category as hers.

I love this book but II realize an awful lot of wonderful kid lit has been published this year. For the category I’m in, Shark Teeth is up against is called Saniyyah’s War by Hiba Noor Kahn. It is enchanting and beautiful and haunting. I feel humbled to have my book mentioned in the same category as hers. However, in the end, we are both spinning tales of young girls’ fight to survive against what seems like impossible odds. My best wishes to Hiba and all the finalists in other categories. And thank you to Kirkus, whose starred review for Shark Teeth delighted me, but not as much as this!

Congratulation finalists! See you in New York Oct. 16 for the outcome!

(for more on the prize, follow the link https://www.kirkusreviews.com/news-and-features/articles/finalists-for-the-2024-kirkus-prize-are-revealed/ )

I have been invited to participate in this awesome event! Oh, joy!

The 2024 Library of Congress National Book Festival kicks off today and I’ve been invited! It’s a lot of pressure. I’ll have to drink tea with my pinkie extended.

A reception for authors, sponsors and festival organizers begins this evening at 6. I’m going to practice my round vowels beforehand–How Now Brown Cow!

Seriously, I love book festivals. I can’t help thinking back to all the many festivals I attended when I wanted desperately to one day publish a book and be part of the celebration.

My mom always believed in me. She’s no longer here and never got to witness me make our dream come true, but she knew all along.

Now, excuse me while I get back to business. I’m going to walk with a book on my head to practice my posture. Maybe I can find an online diagram on how to hold my napkin or how to laugh as though charmed by the King.

Lots to do. Ta-da!

Hey guys, I promised a poem a day for April, but back-to-back conferences forced me to change that tune. Turns out, airplane urinals are no muse. Now, all the travel has left me weak …

…and weary. I’ve had a great time chatting up librarians and talking about my books, as well as learning about others. I have so much to read, I can’t wait.

But first I have to get over what I’m calling, “The Crud.” Soon as I feel better, I’m going to share what I learned and experienced. Until then, I’m here, wrapped in my wooby, sipping tea and taking cat naps. With actual cats.

Cheers!

I’m so proud and honored to be invited to the Texas Library Association’s 2024 conference!(Please excuse the interruption in my daily poetry. It will resume after TLA)

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!

Make funny poems

Behold! Today’s poem is my version of the French form known as a villanelle, although it turned into something else. Who knows? Maybe I made my own poetry form. Anyway, enjoy!

Day 10Bumfuzzle

There was a whippersnapper,
who caused a hullaballoo
Quite a cattywampus,
a real live ballyhoo

A scalawag, a rascal,
he spoke in such a piffle
No one could understand him,
especially with his snotty sniffle

Frou-frou, dressed up so fancy,
A flibbertigibbet if ever seen,
Now claimed the collywobbles,
Flipped his tummy, turning him green

The young man was in trouble,
“We charge thee as a biblioklept!”
His cheeks bulged with eight chapters,
Had he made a grave misstep?

“Destroying books, is oh, so wrong, why do it, it’s a puzzle.”
The young man slurped, “But I missed lunch!”
He shrugged, flabbergasted and bumfuzzled!

A triolet is a type of French poem that is one stanza following the ABAAABAB rhyme scheme. Life is so hard for some kids! Day 9No Fun

I never get to have any fun,
Or go anyplace or do anything
Even dogs get set free so they can run
I never get to have any fun
I’d love to be out there under the sun
Who knew the lamp wasn’t made for flying?
I never get to have any fun,
Or go anyplace or do anything

The Women’s Basketball National Championship was held this weekend, and it was spectacular. I’ve really enjoyed watching the teams throughout the season, including undefeated South Carolina, who won the national title. Kamilla Cardoso was Most Valuable Player and was an amazing gift to viewers. And inspiration to all.

I chose to honor that experience with a type of poem called a rondel. It’s a French form and consists of ABBA ABAB ABBAA rhyme scheme. Congratulations to the Gamecocks and to Coach Dawn Staley. And as the Coach eloquently stated in her victory speech, congratulations and thank you to the super talented Caitlyn Clark, whose immense talent helps catapult women’s basketball into well-earned recognition. The dynamic action photo is courtesy of the AP. Ladies, enjoy!

Day EightAin’t playing no games

She bad.
She on fire.
Her shots go higher.
Girl, don’t make her mad.

Balls whiz-whip-whoop, backcourt to front,
Hair flying like dragon’s flames,
She be tougher, don’t try to stunt.
This game she’s playing, she ain’t playing games.

Bounce-bounce. Pivot. Turn. Swoosh, you can’t stop it.
Her power is electric;
Her game stands eclectic.
Most valuable player, is her title, to wit.
Her sisters in battle are all so close knit.
Kamilla Cardoso, that girl’s got some grit.