5. Describe your writing process in general, and your writing process for Copper Sun.
Writing for me is a very fluid process; I sit down and wait for the words to come. They usually do—in buckets and waves. It’s amazing. I look upon it as a blessing because the words come so easily. I try to make strong characters that change and develop and learn from their mistakes. I think the layering comes in the story development. The plot is born from the idea, then is crafted by the characters and how they respond to what happens to them. I get up early in the morning and write all day—maybe ten or twelve hours a day. It is truly an act of immersion. It’s a thrilling, exciting process.
For Copper Sun, I had to move in and live in a different world—really become a part of the lives of the characters so that they seemed like real people to me. Africa was my home. Then a slave ship. Then South Carolina, and finally Fort Mose. I became engrossed in the lives of Teenie and Clay and Tidbit. I think that “being there” is essential for making the story ring true and making it honest and real.
6. The theme of hope is clear throughout Copper Sun. Can you talk about your understanding of hope and its role in our surviving traumatic events?
I think if a human being doesn’t have hope, he or she cannot survive. It doesn’t matter whether you’re going through traumatic experiences or just day-to-day life. Through fiction we find strength in the survival of characters we grow to love and support. Perhaps a reader can find hope through Amari’s struggle and ultimate survival. Our lives are based on hope, and without hope we have nothing. I think all of my stories have that theme built into them. Amari goes through more than any other character, but I think hope is in all of the stories, as an underlying theme.
7. What do you wish to leave with readers after they have read Copper Sun?
Slavery is a topic that should not be ignored, but discussed and remembered. I chose a character who undergoes the humiliations of slavery and who survives to pass on her history to the next generation. Her survival is important, for her descendents give strength to those of us who live today. I think it’s vital to remember the past and never forget those who came before us. It is our job to tell their stories. This novel speaks for the untold multitudes of my ancestors who needed a voice. I speak for them. Amari carries their spirit. She carries mine as well. The generation that does not remember the evils of the past may be forced to repeat them. Knowledge is power, and truth is all we have to keep us free.
Here’s an excerpt from Sharon M. Draper’s
latest powerful novel, November Blues.
CHAPTER 1
NOVEMBER NELSON
TUESDAY, MARCH 30
NOVEMBER NELSON LURCHED TO THE BATH room, feeling faint and not quite in control of her suddenly unsteady legs. She touched her forehead and found it warm and glazed with sweat. Sinking down on the soft blue rug in front of the toilet, she was grateful for the momentary stability of the floor. But her head continued to spin, and her stomach churned. She lifted the toilet lid, gazed into the water, and wished she could disappear into its depths. Her breath became more shallow, and her nausea more intense. Finally, uncontrollably, and forcefully, all her distress erupted and she lost her lunch in heaves and waves of vomiting. Pepperoni pizza.
She flushed the toilet several times as she sat on the floor waiting to feel normal again. Finally she stood up shakily, gargled with peppermint mouthwash, and peered at herself in the mirror.
“You look like a hot mess,” she whispered to her reflection. Her skin, instead of its usual coppery brown, looked gray and mottled. She hadn’t combed her hair all day, so it was a halo of tangles.
November knew her mother would be home soon and would be angry to find out she’d skipped school. She didn’t care. Her thoughts were focused on the package in her backpack. Even though she knew the house was empty, she made sure the bathroom door was locked. She dug the little purple and pink box out of her book bag and placed it on the sink. It seemed out of place in her mother’s perfectly coordinated powder blue bathroom.
With trembling hands she unwrapped the plastic and opened the box. She read the directions carefully. She looked out of the small bathroom window and watched the last of the early spring snow melting on the grass. Everything looked the same, but she knew in her heart that it was all different now.
November finally turned back to the little white tube in the box and followed the instructions, which were written, she noticed, in Spanish and French as well. Three minutes later the indicator silently screamed the news that she already suspected. She was pregnant.
CHAPTER 2
TUESDAY, MARCH 30
“I BROUGHT YOUR HOMEWORK, GIRL,” Dana announced as she bounded through the front door. “Whew! It’s cold out there. Calendar says spring, but the weather doesn’t seem to know that.” She shivered and tossed her coat on the sofa.
“Thanks,” said November quietly. “Did I miss much?”
“Same old junk. Busywork. The chemistry might kick your butt, but everything else is pretty easy. You got anything to eat? I just left the library and I’m starved.”
The thought of food made November instantly queasy, but she heated up a bowl of her mother’s spaghetti in the microwave for Dana. “Dig in,” November said as she fished for a spoon in the silverware drawer and slid the bowl across the table.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?” asked Dana. “Your mom makes the best pasta in the world!”
“I already ate,” November lied. She picked at a crumb on the table.
“What’s wrong, November?” her friend asked, cocking her head.
“Nothing. Just thinking about Josh, I guess.”
“Still hurts deep, doesn’t it?” Dana said, reaching for November’s arm.
“You don’t know the half of it,” replied November.
“Well, let’s see what we can do to make you feel better. You ever heard of a brush and comb?” Dana teased.
November chuckled and ran her hands through her hair. “I didn’t feel like messing with it today. I stayed in bed and watched game shows and soap operas. Talk about depressing!”
Dana finished her spaghetti, put her bowl in the sink, and said, “Let me braid your hair for you. That’ll make you feel better.”
November grinned, went to get her hair stuff from her bedroom, and returned to sit on a pillow in front of the sofa. “You’re gonna need magic fingers,” she said, handing Dana a comb.
Dana turned on the CD player, and the two girls sat in silence in the living room, while Dana deftly combed November’s hair. November could feel some of the tension leave her back and neck as her friend worked.
“Josh used to like your hair braided, remember? He’d call you his African queen,” Dana said softly.
“Yeah, he was always makin’ up stuff like that.” November sighed. She shifted her weight on the cushion.
“It’s gotta be hard to lose somebody you love,” said Dana. “I don’t know how you deal with it, girlfriend. I’d go crazy if anything ever happened to Kofi.”
Despite the music, silence filled the room. “I never really loved Josh,” November whispered to the floor.
Dana stopped in mid-braid. “What did you say, girl?”
“I never really loved Josh,” November repeated, her voice full of regret. “I know I said I loved him. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say when you’re going out with somebody?” And then she started to cry.
“Girl, you trippin’,” Dana said as she put the comb and brush on the table. Fine strands of dark brown fuzzy hair laced the teeth of the comb. She sat down next to November and put her arm around her friend’s shaking shoulders.
November pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “I’m for real. I never told anybody this before.”
“But . . . but you two always seemed to be so happy together,” Dana exclaimed. “Lots of kids at school envied the two of you because it seemed so deep, so real.”
“Josh made me laugh. He was so much fun
to be with—always cracking jokes and acting silly. But I don’t know if that’s enough to be called love.”
“He was the most lovable, craziest kid I ever met, that’s for sure,” Dana said with a smile. “Remember when he rode on all the kiddie rides at Kings Island? His legs were sticking way up over the edge, and he kept telling the ride operator that he never wanted to forget what it felt like to be six.”
“That’s what I mean,” November said, her face a frown of confusion. “I’m all about helping disabled kids learn to walk, or teaching a second grader how to read. Josh was always just looking for the next joke, the next laugh. He didn’t have a serious bone in his body.”
Dana looked November in the eye. “So why did you stay with him?”
“Be for real! Josh was fine and he was fun. But I’m sixteen years old! I just wanted to have a good time—I didn’t want to marry him or anything.” She sighed. “Isn’t having a boyfriend just what happens in high school—like doing math homework or going to dances or buying new shoes?”
“I don’t know. I never really thought about it. Kofi makes me tingle when he touches me. I guess that’s love.”
November tried again to explain herself. “The girls at school say they love somebody until he makes them mad, or they find somebody better to love, and then they move on. You don’t plan to marry the dudes or have them in your life forever. You just say ‘I love you,’ enjoy the juicy feelings while they last, then you go your separate ways. Sometimes it hurts, and sometimes you’re just glad it’s over.”
“This is heavy, November,” Dana said quietly. “Maybe you’re just overreacting to all that’s happened. Maybe you miss him so much that you’re just saying this to help you get over all the hurt—you know—’cause he’s gone.” She looked at her friend with concern.
“No, it’s more than that.” November picked up the comb and began slapping it in her hand. “Don’t get me wrong—for a while I really did think I loved him. I figured that love meant going out on dates and getting dressed up and making out in the backseat of somebody’s car.”
“That’s what me and Kofi do,” Dana admitted.
“I loved being with him. But I didn’t love him—not deep down inside where those feelings are supposed to be.”
“But that’s okay, November. That’s no reason for you to feel guilty.”
“Josh died exactly two months ago today,” said November sadly.
“I know. It seems like his funeral was just yesterday. I miss him so much.”
“I do too. But everybody treats me like the brokenhearted girlfriend. I feel like . . . a fake.”
“You two had been together for a couple of years, right?”
November nodded. “But now that he’s gone, everybody seems to be expecting me to feel something that just isn’t there—at least the ones who still talk to me.”
“What’re you sayin’?”
“Kids treat me funny—like they don’t know what to say or something. It’s like death is a bad word, so they pretend like they’re in a hurry and book out of there instead of talkin’ to me.”
“Don’t let them stress you, November. Soon enough, when more time’s gone by, people will start to treat you like before, and let you get on with your life.”
“Somehow I have a feeling that’s not going to happen.” November began pulling hairs from the comb, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Girl, what’s wrong with you? What do you care about what people think about you and Josh? It’s none of their business, anyway!”
“My life is a mess, Dana,” November said deliberately.
“You flunk that chemistry test that O’Brian gave us last week?”
“No. I’m pretty sure I got most of the questions right.”
“Your mother sweatin’ you about your clothes?”
“No. Actually, she gave me some money to buy clothes just last week. Mama deals with stress—my problems and hers, too—by spending money.”
“I’ll switch mothers with you any day!” Dana said with a grin. “So what’s wrong? You look like you just found out they’re gonna quit making chocolate chip ice cream.”
November took a deep breath and looked directly at her friend. “I’m pregnant.”
Sharon M. Draper, Copper Sun
(Series: # )
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