One of the great things about traveling is the spontaneity you can have, apart from the regular routine of your daily life. We decided to start the morning off by visiting the Warren County-Vicksburg Public Library, which is full of light streaming in the wall of windows and packed with patrons coming and going. Clearly, the city is full of readers. I checked the shelf for A Thousand Never Evers, but they didn’t have it, so I dropped off a postcard to the young adult librarian.

Then we drove down Washington Street. We thought we were leaving town, on our way up to the Delta, but that’s not what happened. Out the window, we spotted something unusual–a Coca-Cola museum! We had to check it out.

Joseph Biedenharn used to own a candy store here. He received shipments of Coca-Cola syrup from Atlanta, which he sold as fountain drinks. But in 1894, he got an idea: Why not put the fountain drink in bottles? And as they say, the rest is history.

This little museum is chock-full of amazing Coke memorabilia–including old advertisements, bottles that changed decade by decade, and a replica of the machine first used in the bottling process. Plus the old-fashioned candy store has been recreated. You can buy candy, ice cream, Coke fountain drinks, Coke in bottles, and Coke floats. Yum!

The Biedenharn Coca-Cola Museum is run by the Vicksburg Foundation for Historic Preservation. It’s a delicious treat to visit.

It was almost randomly that we ended up spending our first night in Vicksburg, Mississippi. My husband has a colleague from there, and it’s less than an hour’s drive from the airport, so we decided to give it a try.

We drove into this city by the Mississippi River with no idea of what to expect. We followed the directions in our guidebook to The Cedar Grove Mansion Inn by route of one of the main roads through town. We passed a majestic brick building that said “The Vicksburg” in white letters down the side.

The Mississippi River ran along our left side, and on it, a giant Mississippi river boat turned gambling palace. (It wasn’t until the next morning that we realized it was actually planted on land; it just looked like it was in the water from the road up above.)

On our way to the Inn, we saw that many shops in town were boarded up, out of business, trashed. This scene would be repeated over and over as we drove through the state. I’ve been to Mississippi before, but the poverty is overwhelming each and every time. And especially in a city with such a majestic framework like Vicksburg.

The Cedar Grove Mansion Inn is enormous. The plantation grounds are lush and gorgeous. We sure enjoyed the fried green tomatoes in the restaurant there! And it was quite a sight to see the floorboards still split in the parlor from a cannon that was fired during the civil war. In fact, the mansion was turned into a Union hospital during the war.

I’m sure it costs a fortune to keep up a place as grand as this one, and it looked as if the economy has taken a toll. The rooms were almost beautiful. The restaurant was almost great. The tennis courts were in disrepair and the pool needed a deep cleaning. In fact, throughout Vicksburg and throughout the state, we found a haunting juxtaposition of elegance and despair.

The next day we wandered down the main drag of Vicksburg, where we experienced the real charm and character of the city firsthand.

I just returned from an incredible trip to the Mississippi Delta with my husband, Oren. I hadn’t been there for many years and wanted to meet the people I’d interviewed for my book–people like Lillie, Mattie, and Billy. I’d probably interviewed each of them on the phone 20 or 30 times over a period of three years, but I’d never met them in person. This was the time to do that, as well as make a video about the civil rights movement to take with me to school visits. Over the next several weeks, I’ll be blogging about this once-in-a-lifetime trip.

No sooner had Oren and I stepped off the airplane than we walked right into the new Medgar Evers Pavillion at the airport in Jackson. Since the title of my book A Thousand Never Evers is a tribute to Medgar Evers, I was eager to check it out. It’s a great exhibit with lots of primary source documents about Medgar’s work as NAACP Field Secretary in Mississippi.

Bertha, at the airport bookstore, told us that Myrlie Evers had been in town just a few days ago for the opening of the pavillion, which was on the forty-sixth anniversary of Medgar’s death–June 12, 1963. While we were talking to Bertha, a tall man walked by and waved hello. “Oh, hi, Mr. Mayor!” Bertha said. So Oren and I asked, “Which mayor is that?” And she told us, “That’s Mayor Harvey Johnson. The new mayor of Jackson!”

I ran up to the mayor, introduced myself, and told him about my book. He was kind enough to listen and also help us find our bags, when they didn’t appear on the luggage carousel.

Well, not even out of the airport, and already we’d seen the Medgar Evers Pavillion, met the mayor of Jackson, and talked to the airport bookstore about carrying A Thousand Never Evers. We were off to a good start!

At the end of our trip, we’d go to the Medgar Evers House & Museum, where the Evers family lived, and where Medgar Evers was shot dead. But there was a lot of adventure to be had and fried chicken to eat before then.

It was great fun to participate in the Delacorte Dames and Dude (DDD) panel discussion at BookPeople today. The topic was “Everything You Wanted to Know about YA Lit But Were Afraid to Ask.” Author Sarah Bird was our lovely moderator. Members of the DDD are all published by Delacorte Press, Random House and live in Austin. From right to left are: Margo Rabb, Jennifer Ziegler, Varian Johnson, April Lurie, and Me.

Before we all took our seats at the table, I told the Delacorte Dames and Dude (DDD) that the reason my eyes are puffed out like plums is because I have an allergy to mangoes, and I touched a mango just the other day. (No, I didn’t know I had the allergy at the time.)

The Delacorte Dames and Dudes started in like a Greek Chorus: “Oh, you can’t tell in the slightest.” And “No one would ever guess in a million billion years!” After becoming thoroughly convinced, I decided not to let my hair fall in front of my eyes like I had originally planned. I pulled it back in a barrette instead.

Even though I was finally looking back to normal, I wanted to go ahead with my planned public service announcement, so after the introductions I told the audience, “In case anyone’s wondering, I’m recovering from a mango allergy.” Honestly, after the sweet reassurances from my co-panelists, I knew no one could actually spot a trace of the reaction on my face anymore. But you know how people take up whatever cause they’ve been scarred by? My new cause is mangoes! I want people to know that you can really be allergic to this seductive little fruit—not just the orange flesh but the skin—so you better watch out!

With that out of the way, the five of us on the panel had a good old time discussing everything from submissions, to editing, to marketing for YA lit. We talked about how to find an agent and how subjective the acquisitions process is. And we discussed swear words and sex in books for young readers.

Well, it wasn’t two minutes after the discussion ended that I was rushed by a half dozen friends who came to inquire as to my well being. “Oh, I’m so glad you said it was the mangoes. I was worried you were in a wreck!” “I thought you’d been crying all day.” And “I was so relieved to hear you look terrible for a reason” or something to that effect.

While Delacorte Dames and Dude are some of the best people on the planet, take it from me, you can’t believe a word they say!

You can catch the DDD at the Writer’s League of Texas Conference. Our panel will be held June 27th, 10:15am.

Photo Credit: Donna Bratton

Last week I spoke to the Austin Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. My talk was about how to build a world that readers will believe and won’t want to leave. At the end, I mentioned how I hired tween editors to help me with A Thousand Never Evers. There were many questions, so I thought I’d elaborate here:

When I was teaching sixth grade, I got a grant from a local education foundation to hire a half dozen of my former students to read and critique the first draft of my book.

Now I know editors aren’t fond of hearing that children—the students you grade or the children you feed and clothe every day—like what you wrote. “Of course they’re going to love it!” the thinking goes. And that’s probably correct.

In my case, I hired my former students. I begged them to be honest and promised them they wouldn’t hurt my feelings. I meant it. Then I trained them to critique me.

First, we reviewed the basic elements of fiction, as well as a handout I put together called “Questions to Ask Myself As I Read.” Then I gave each tween editor the entire manuscript in a 3-ring binder, along with Post-It Notes, a colored pen, and this letter.

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