Las Musas are thrilled to host the exclusive first look at the cover of Loriel Ryon's debut INTO THE TALL, TALL GRASS!

INTO THE TALL, TALL GRASS comes out April 7, 2020 from Margaret K. McElderry Books. Learn more about this gorgeous debut and cover below!

Read the dynamite first chapter...
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Yolanda crept to the bedroom door, cracking it just so and peering inside. Her abuela, Wela, was lying in bed with a yellow serape tucked beneath her arms, her chest barely rising. Three orange-and-black butterflies nestled into her long white curls, their wings opening and closing ever so slightly as the morning sun flickered through the tree branches outside the window. It was exactly the same sight it had been for the past two weeks.

Yolanda sighed in disappointment and pushed open the door, letting it groan loudly on its hinges, hoping the sound would cause Wela to stir. Wake up. Wela, please wake up. But Wela didn’t move.
Was this all her fault? She sighed and walked over to the nightstand, twisting the vase of scarlet milkweed blossoms toward the light. Two butterflies sipped nectar from the wilting flowers. She brought the vase to Wela’s fingertips in hopes that her touch would liven the blossoms. But they remained wilted, and she made a mental note to switch them out before she left for school.

The way the light danced across the serape and the fine lines surrounding Wela’s closed pale lips made Yolanda’s heart sink even lower. She’d seen this before, less than a year ago.

Dying.

It was too soon. She couldn’t go through this again.

Wela had fallen into the sleep two weeks ago, and as many things were with Wela, it was a mystery. The doctors said there was no reason she shouldn’t wake. Everything appeared normal on all the tests. Yolanda replayed her argument with her abuela over and over again, desperately hoping it wasn’t all her fault. The sad look in Wela’s eyes and the way she’d held out her arms for Yolanda haunted her. Why did Yolanda have to get so angry? Why couldn’t she let it go? But when she thought of everything that was lost, she felt sick to her stomach.

Yolanda walked over to Wela’s bookcase and ran her fingers along the textbook bindings. Organic Chemistry. Cellular Biology. Human Anatomy. Fundamental Entomology. Botany. They were a mix of Wela and Welo’s textbooks. Wela had never gotten around to cleaning Welo’s books out after he died. Next to the books there was a sapphire urn atop a black metal box with a tiny lock. Yolanda averted her eyes as the lump sat heavy in her throat. She couldn’t even look at it without forcing back tears. Even though it had been nearly a year, she still couldn’t bring herself to linger on her abuelo’s urn.

She moved to Wela’s vanity and dug around in her wooden jewelry box until she found her favorite pair of earrings: silver double helices Wela had picked up at a science conference a few years ago. Wela certainly wouldn’t mind her borrowing them for the big day. Yolanda looped them in her ears and shook her head in the mirror. Perfect. They glimmered against her wild chocolate curls and matched her DNA IS LIFE T-shirt. Her fingers brushed the cool stone of the bolo tie at her throat. She closed her eyes. The earrings for Wela, the tie for Welo.

A silver picture frame was lying facedown on the vanity. She picked it up and turned it over, her fingers lingering on the cool metal. Why was it face down? Had it fallen over? It was a faded black-and-white photograph of three children in front of an enormous pecan tree. Two girls and a boy. The girls stood in front of the tree, their arms outstretched, holding a handful of pecans in each palm. The boy was hanging upside down from the lower branches, making a silly face.

She set the frame upright on the vanity, walked over to the side of the bed, and knelt. As the butterflies opened their delicate wings in Wela’s hair, Yolanda’s tears began to fall, for when she was alone was the only time she let her true feelings out.

“I’m so sorry, Wela. Just tell me how to fix this. How do I fix this?”
Yolanda buried her face in the clean serape, which smelled faintly like green apples.
“It’s not your fault, mija.”
Her head snapped up at Wela’s voice. It couldn’t be . . . could it? “Wela?”

Wela’s eyes were closed and her chest gently rose with each sleeping breath. She didn’t appear to be awake at all.

“I’m so sorry, Violeta,” Wela whispered, her lips barely moving. “Lo siento, mi hermana.”
Violeta? Yolanda sucked in her breath and her heart leapt. Wela was waking up. Yolanda leaned in, brushing a stray curl from Wela’s forehead, desperately searching her face for any sign of consciousness. “Wela, it’s me, Yolanda, su nieta. Your granddaughter. I’m right here.” She placed a hand on Wela’s wrinkled brown arm to calm her.

For a moment the butterflies in Wela’s long white curls stopped pumping their wings, pausing mid-air and showing off their lacy patterns.
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And Wela opened her eyes.

      When I was a teenager, there were two things I longed for most: my own room, and to somehow change my roots from Mexican to Italian. I got my wish for the former in my university dorms at the age of twenty-two; the latter, not unexpectedly, was impossible to achieve. Still, I tried.
     I’d long been obsessed with Italian food, spending my free time trying to master dishes, especially lasagna. When my friends went on a trip to Rome, I thought I would die from jealousy. I practically crawled into their laps when they returned, sighing with longing at their descriptions of ancient stone ruins, endless glasses of blood-red wine, and the cutest boys they’d ever seen, each one flirtier than the last. 
     I knew I was meant to be Italian, somehow. I was mixed up from birth, or had a secret parent, or maybe a variety of past lives to account for my connection. I imagined myself a peasant, gathering sun-warmed grapes on a vineyard, or a baker, crossing each loaf of bread for protection before it entered the fire. When Eat Pray Loveby Elizabeth Gilbert was published, I was almost twenty, and I read about Gilbert’s travels in Italy over and over again. I hosted dinner parties centered around pasta, I brought home books on Italian cooking, on the language, on the history.
     It's clear to me now, that although Italy has a rich and gorgeous history and culture, my attraction, my longing for my identity to be a part of it in some way was centered in the idea that who I was—Mexican American—just wasn’t enough.
     All my life, I’d heard ‘Mexican’ as synonymous with an insult. People made jokes on our height, our food, the volume of our voices, the ways we celebrate, the ways we mourn. My mother told us stories of her childhood: being called spic by white men while walking on the street. How my grandparents, who were migrants, were forced to used separate facilities in their travels. How they encountered signs that proclaimed,No Mexicans allowed. 
     I remember, as a teenager, pronouncing empanada at a Mexican restaurant, and my friend’s white father becoming intrigued. “Say it again,” he told me. “Again.” As though I were a circus animal, saying things correctly for his entertainment. 
     I remember one of my sister’s white friends, making faces over my mother’s enchiladas, cheesy and bubbling from the skillet. She took one bite and ran to the trash to spit it out. 
     I remember my grandmother and her internalized racism, refusing to call any white man or woman by their first names, even at their insistence. 
     I didn’t realize that I, too, had internalized shame about who I was. I didn’t realize I wanted to be Italian because I was desperate to be something else, something I thought was more beautiful, more accepted. I was certain Italian girls weren’t asked to parade pronunciations like clown tricks. I was certain their friends didn’t dress up as caricatures of their culture for Halloween. 
     In graduate school, I was mistaken for the other two brown women constantly, and none of us were the same race (in fact, we were even separated by age in decades). One of my professors, upon reviewing a poem of mine, said that my mother’s and grandmother’s names, Maria Elena and Ofelia, were too stereotypical. So even though I didn’t escape microaggressions in grad school, grad school was where two mentors, Anne Caston and Elizabeth Bradfield, encouraged me to write about my family and identity. 
     It was hard, at first, because I had to realize whyI was scared to write about my family, my upbringing, my culture. And the truth of it was that I ashamed of it, and that I felt even more shame over this shame. 
     We were poor, so poor that Mom would try and convince us, at the end of the month, what constituted proper meals: sandwiches of mustard and cheese, baloney slices topped with mashed potatoes, and the always reliable rice and beans and tortillas like moons. We grew up in a concrete house without air conditioning in South Florida. If you looked closely enough, you’d spy a line of skinny sugar ants somewhere in the kitchen. Once, a high school teacher humiliated me because I’d brought in cold cake to share with the class. “Why on earth is it cold?” she’d asked, slowly, as though I were a small child. I couldn’t really say the truth, that I didn’t realize cake wasn’t supposed to be cold, that sugar ants hadn’t figured out how to break into the fridge, and so it was the only safe place for sweets.
     We were brown and poor and Mexican and I didn’t know how to write about it. Who would even care? Or worse, would folks despise it, just like my sister’s friend who ran to the trash to spit out my mom’s enchiladas? 
     I started with my grandmother. She is the center of our familia, her shamanic practices the reason why I’d gotten my bachelor’s degree in cultural anthropology, her stories the source of my lifelong study of fairy and folktales. I started with Abuela, and from her, I wrote about everything. 
     I wrote poetry about moon-like tortillas and curanderas, about bears with handprints on their fur. I wrote about my family’s struggle with mental illness. I wrote about my childhood: warm Coke because the fridge was broken again, Friday night cheap pizza, and John Wayne on the television, and guitars and sombreros and lotto tickets. I wrote about South Florida, mangos, arroz con pollo, maíz y molcajetes y manos, my grandmother’s and mother’s and sister’s and my hands, grinding the chile and the garlic and the coffee. Along the way, I unlearned all I had been told about what it was to be Mexican. I learned that I, and my family, are worthy.
     My grandfather, Apolinar, and his years and years and years of sobriety. How he taught himself how to play the guitar. How he loved Flight of the Concords. 
     My abuela, how doves come to her so she can mend their wings, and how they stay near her home for years, speaking to her in the mornings with their warm, throaty coos. She names each one Casper, and for a while in my childhood, a collection of feathered Caspers followed her all over the yard.
     And then there’s tales of magic in our bloodlines: limpias with eggs and brooms, how the grandmother I was named after, Maria Raquel, threw blankets and sheets over each mirror with each rainstorm to keep the lightning away.  
     While I was working on my thesis essay for my MFA in poetry, I decided to take a break and walk around the neighborhood I was living in at the time, in Tallahassee. The air was sticky and sweet with the scent of blooms: hibiscus, roses, wisteria. The sky was the color of the sea, dark and haunted and endless. And that’s when an idea for a novel came to me, cool and sudden, like I’d been anointed with holy water. 
     I started writing novels when I was eleven, first styling them after The Babysitters’ Club. Throughout my childhood, I wrote and didn’t finish a dozen or so manuscripts, and when I was twenty, I started finishing them. I wrote fantasy and contemporary, magical realism and mythic retellings. Despite the differences in genres and plot and approach, all of my novels featured a young girl protagonist whose skin was light like milk quartz, whose eyes were green or gold or violet, whose hair was red or honey or white-blonde, and always straight, straight, straight like the edges of pale paper. 
     There is nothing wrong with these features in a protagonist. But the reasons why I wrote her, a girl I was nothing like, was because I couldn’t imagine anyone caring to read the tale of a someone like me. 
     This novel idea was different. I knew it centered around a UFO crash and a mother, an undocumented immigrant from Mexico. I then saw my protagonist: a girl reading a letter, in class, to a boy who’d been hateful to her. This girl was dark, her hair black, her eyes black, her hips and thighs and lips all big and wide. I named her Sia. And that book, Sia Martinez and the Moonlit Beginning of Everything, will be published in 2020 by Simon Pulse. 
     I have many hopes for Sia Martinez, and a big one, perhaps the biggest, is that this book will find its way to young Mexican and Chicanx readers, that they will read about a girl who is short and brown and angry and passionate and quiet and beautiful, and they will know that they, too, are all these things, and they will know that they, too, are worthy. That their—that our—stories are worthy. And that we, too, as people, are worthy. And that includes everything that makes us who we are: mariachis and cold cake and warm arroz con pollo and abuelas who mend the wings of doves between cooking blistered, hot, soft tortillas like moons. 

- Raquel Vasquez Gilliland recently joined us as a 2020 Musa. She is a Mexican American poet, novelist and painter. She received her MFA in poetry from the University of Alaska, Anchorage in 2017. She’s most inspired by fog and seeds and the lineages of all things. When not writing, Raquel tells stories to her plants and they tell her stories back. She lives in Tennessee with her beloved family and mountains. Raquel has published two books of poetry. Sia Martinez and the Moonlit Beginning of Everythingis her first novel. 

It’s my pleasure today to introduce Las Musas blog readers to Alex Villasante, the brilliant author of one of my favorite YA novels of 2019—The Grief Keeper.

The Grief Keeper is the tender, moving, and compulsively readable speculative tale of seventeen-year-old Marisol, a young Salvadoran who flees her country with her little sister after their brother is murdered. Marisol is offered a chance at asylum in the U.S. if she agrees to participate in a dangerous experimental trial: she must take another’s grief into her body.

A Junior Library Guild selection, an Indies Introduce pick, and a Barnes & Noble debut of the week, THE GRIEF KEEPER has been called an “engrossing debut” by Publishers Weekly and a story that “will grip readers and provoke empathy” by Kirkus Reviews.

Alex, thank you for speaking with me. Without further ado...
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​What was the very first seed of THE GRIEF KEEPER? Was it a question you needed answered, an image that wouldn't leave you, a character whispering in your head, or something else entirely?
 
The idea for THE GRIEF KEEPER came from two trains of thought I’d been mulling over – my parent’s immigration story, their experiences and sacrifices; and an article about a wearable device being tested that might alleviate the symptoms of PTSD in soldiers returning from war. These thoughts knocked around my head until they collided with a ‘What if?’ What if there was a way to take grief from one person and give it to another? Which begged another question: Who would be the giver and who would be the receiver? I followed this string of questions until I had Marisol firmly in my head. Then I followed Marisol to the rest of her story.
 
What fell out of the overstuffed closet in your brain (we all have one) that you knew you needed to include in this story? Did you come across any fascinating details while working on the book that you ultimately chose to exclude? 
 
Oh, my overstuffed brain! I’m always adding details and characters and scenes that tumble out of my head in the first draft. Most of those superfluous ideas, I manage to weed out (back into that brain-space you go! Eight ghost brothers bent on revenge maybe needed for another book!) but there was another pair of siblings in this book – an adult brother and sister working through their own, very different, reasons for grief. My editor wisely saw that this pair did not add anything to the narrative, and worse, took tension away. OFF they went!
 
The sisters in this book shine so bright from the very first pages. What did you want to highlight in Marisol and Gabi's sisterly dynamic? 
 
Siblings is a theme I come to again and again in my writing. There isn’t another person who will be closer to you in your life. Even if you hate your brother or sister – that bond of emotion is close  and complicated. As I discovered who Marisol was, I wrote Gabi and their older brother Pablo, defining each sibling as they were in relation to each other. That’s how siblings grow, in shadows of others, in protection or competition, hatred or love or both. I wanted Marisol and Gabi’s relationship to be a centerpiece of the book because that is what motivates Marisol in the hard choices she makes. 
 
What books, movies, and television shows do you like to think THE GRIEF KEEPER is in conversation with?
 
THE GRIEF KEEPER is an immigrant story, in the way YOU BRING THE DISTANT NEAR and AMERICAN STREET are immigrant stories – though these are very different. Exploring what it means to be other, what it means to feel apart, is at the core of my book. Also, as you and I have discussed, I’d say that NEVER LET ME GO by Kazuo Ishigurois a book I think about a lot in context with THE GRIEF KEEPER. (I love that book, it haunts me still. I am not putting my book on a par with that masterpiece, let’s be clear!) Like NEVER LET ME GO, THE GRIEF KEEPER explores what it means to be human, how we disregard humanity to the point of dehumanization for the sake of progress. It also questions who gets to benefit from technology and who suffers.
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In the book, you beautifully and sensitively explore the way that this process of passing grief from one individual to another could be used to help the privileged and hurt the needy. As a reader, it's impossible not to empathize with GK's protagonist, Marisol, a young Salvadoran who seeks asylum in the US and is given a chance at that for herself and her sister if she agrees to participate in this very risky experiment. Detailing how this experiment affects the lives of teenagers is a visceral, intimate way of examining inequity in the world. What parallels did you hope to draw between Marisol's world and ours?
 
I see Marisol’s world and ours as essentially the same. The only difference is the technology. The forces that seek to make us despise otherness are here right now. The moral ambiguity that comes with having power, money and privilege is here too. Even the drive to protect the ones we love at any cost is here. We’re living in Marisol’s world. THE GRIEF KEEPER takes existing situations and turns them up a notch. 

While working on the book, did you imagine a world in which the experiment was rolled out on a wider scale--where grief was eradicated in a privileged few? What did that society look like? What kind of role do you think grief plays in shaping who we are?

Oh God, I did think about that. I had, at one time, a more grandiose vision of this book as a sci-fi fantasy dystopian. Evil corporations, rebellious teens, conspiracy and murder plots (sidebar: I’d totally read this book if anyone wants to write it!) But ultimately, I decided I wanted to explore the personal effects of grief and sacrifice. I wanted to dig deep into the emotion and the connection and the consequences. I needed less plot twists for that and more hands reaching to touch each other.   
 
While reading THE GRIEF KEEPER, I was so moved by Marisol's fierce protectiveness of her sister, Gabi--and by her desire to preserve Gabi's innocence. How would THE GRIEF KEEPER differ if it was narrated by Gabi? Would you ever consider writing a MG version from her point of view (I'm only asking because I'm desperate to read it)?
 
I love Gabi. She’s the character I didn’t know I’d love so much until her voice started singing out to me on the page. I think a book told from Gabi’s perspective would be lighter and more buoyant, because Gabi has the privilege many younger siblings have; they know they have someone who always has their back. Fair or not, that means they get to be more carefree. Gabi is also quite different in her personality. She looks for beauty. She likes speed and breezes in her hair and she likes loud. She’s much more of an extrovert than Marisol.
 
While working on the book, did you learn anything surprising about yourself that you might like to share?
 
That I could write a hard book. I had this idea initially in late 2015 and I submitted it to my agent, Barbara Poelle along with other book ideas that were less hard. THE GRIEF KEEPER became the fourth book I went on submission with Barbara, and the books before were good, interesting and all within what I thought of as ‘my wheelhouse.’ THE GRIEF KEEPER was decidedly outside of my comfort zone – so much research, so much heavy exploration of feelings. So many stories that had to be gotten right. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I not-so-secretly hoped that Barbara would choose one of my other ideas that were lighter and fluffier. No such luck. She told me (and other friends echoed her words) to write the hard book. I didn’t think I could. But I found out I was wrong!
 
What do you hope readers will take away from reading THE GRIEF KEEPER?
 
Everyone deserves love. It sounds so easy and most people would agree immediately with this statement. But when you actively apply it to people who are different from you; who look different or speak differently or love differently – that’s when it becomes harder. Believe that this is true and act accordingly. Everyone deserves love.
 
What's next for you, Alex?
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Sleep? Ha ha. No. I’m going on tour with the Grief Keeper [Sara, want to include the graphic of where I’ll be in the blog post? I’ll attach it here] and I’m looking forward to talking to readers and gushing about all the AMAZING Las Musas books out in the world. There’s a spooky South American tale called THE TENTH GIRL that I cannot wait to get my hands on (seriously, where is my copy??) and I’m about to get edits on my second book any day now – though I can only share that my next book contains another strong, but unusual sibling story, a trip to the Hindenburg crash site and going to summer school for failing Religion. 
 
Sara, thank you so much for these thought-provoking questions- I had a blast!

3. I feel a bit of my chef side coming out with this next question. As I was reading I kept getting hints of classic tales and authors like dash of flavor coming out. I'd read a page and think, "oh here's a hint of King here," in the best way. What are some of your influences as you were writing this? 
Oh, influences as I was writing it? I mean, I think at this point in my life I've had so many years of gathering influences that their voices are all in there, you know? I mean, what horror writer isn't influenced by Stephen King? Whether they admit it or not. I was a huge fan in my youth. And Anne Rice, Interview With a Vampire came out when I was 13. Gorgeous Gothic literature (don't even mention the movie to me. Sheesh! Tom Cruise as Lestat?).

But mostly when it came to horror it was movies that influenced me the most. I was lucky to be around for what I feel is the absolute heyday of horror cinema. And a childhood friend of mine, Maitland McDonagh, is a horror film critic, so she brought me to more films than I can count. Some great, some awful. I would answer the phone and find myself talking to Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger) or Michael Rooker (Merle in The Walking Dead) who were calling for their interview (both have really sexy phone voices, BTW).  Fifty-six years of these story-lines, literary and cinematic, wound their way into my psyche, so I'm not surprised they're visible in my work...or that I have spent years in therapy. 

4. ...you talked to Robert Englund!?!?! WHAT?!?! We need to sit down and just walk through everything and also help me get new glasses. So, as someone who also juggled multiple storylines - how did you keep personalities separate? How were dynamics particularly important for the story? 
Oh, it was just a hello and a "Hi, can I speak to Maitland McDonagh?" type thing, but it was enough for me to fangirl out! But Michael Rooker called me "Darlin'." Sigh. 

Keeping the personalities separate wasn't the hard part for me, it was during the revision process, my agent or editor would say, "Lupe needs some more substance" then I would beef up Lupe, and then Javier would seem one-dimensional. It's kind of like when you fix up one room of your home, the others suddenly seem shabby. I eventually hit on the right balance, though. But it is a balance.  And the dynamics between the two were so important because to me they represented the two cultures that I was stretched between as a kid. I think that's something that a lot of teenagers can relate to these days. They sometimes fight, but mostly compliment each other. 

5. Speaking about culture. I notice that Lupe shares your last name (Dávila) and the moniker of Gringa-Rican in the book. Can you talk a bit about if and how you spoke to that feeling of being between two places and what it meant for Lupe to carry your last name? 
It’s so interesting. It wasn’t until you sent this question that I realized Lupe had that name before I did! I was born Ann Marie Hagman. My dad was a Swedish/Irish/English 6’2” gringo. I was named after my great aunt, Ana Maria Dávila. We were born on the same date. But my father thought Ana Maria was too “ethnic.” I’m still disappointed my mother caved. When I got married, I took my husband’s Native American name, Cardinal, and used Hagman as my middle name. 

After my mother died I held tight to  the Dávila side of me, a way of keeping her around. When I started writing this book six years ago, I gave the character my maternal family name as an homage. Then I realized I’d worn the Hagman name for 55 years and I felt more Dávila. So I changed my middle name to Dávila. In traditional Spanish families we would keep all these names anyway.

​When I called my Tío Esteban to tell him I was legally a Dávila now, he said, “you always were, Sobrina.”

6. Puerto Rico - of course - plays a big role in Five Midnights. It is also squarely in the present delving into a lot of the social, economic and emotional status of the island. Can you talk a little bit about your approach, any hesitations you may have had or how setting can often become another character? 
Oh, so many hesitations. I've never lived on the island for more than a few months. I know that when you hit that one thing, that "Wait! no one uses that expression in Puerto Rico! That's more a Mexican expression!" you lose readers. They no longer trust you. So I worked hard on that and had many many other eyes on it, people who live and work on the island year-round. 

And when setting a book on Puerto Rico, how does it not become a character? Good Lord, the pull from that land is extraordinary. It's a drug that gets in your veins and you think about all year long (particularly during the long hard winters!).  And it would be irresponsible to not address the more difficult situation the island is in these days. Even pre-Maria it was a tough time. I saw it start in the 70s and 80s when my mother's town started to change. It was farmland, bucolic, then drugs came in and I learned the term tiroteo when I was a small child. It was hard to watch because I wasn't seeing it every day, when I came back I would be shocked at the changes, and my aunt would be surprised, because she was like that frog in the proverbial boiling water, it happened slowly so she didn't notice it encroaching on her private jungle. 

Initially when I wrote about Puerto Rico I portrayed it as idyllic, heaven, the way it is in my heart. But that's not fair either. That's exoticizing it. I love it with all its brightness and dark corners. I love it with all my heart. 

7. You deal with a lot in this book, from colonialism, substance abuse, faith and loss of faith, culture clashes and family. Did it feel like too much at times? Why was it necessary? I promise after this I'm going with fun questions!! 
Oh boy! You are asking the tough ones! But that is fitting given the content of the question. I mean, yes, it’s a lot. Some of that was intentional, and some just came organically when telling the story, like loss of faith. That just happened naturally while telling Javier’s story. I think loss of faith is often a prerequisite for addiction. Not always, but often. 

And substance abuse was just part of my daily life as a child. I had to hide the car keys sometimes, and clean the house and do the laundry. When you’re young and you can’t rely on the adults in your life you don’t have a lot of time to feel sorry for yourself, you just do it. I hope i can reach a reader growing up in a similar situation and give them some kind of hope.

You asked if all these things were necessary. I don’t know about that,  but I think all those things are there because they’re part of my own story. And no matter how hard I try to write away from  that, it always bleeds through one way or another.

8. Let's switch this up a bit and do some fun ones! How about what are some of your favorite horror texts or movies and why? 
Favorite horror...that's a tough one. In terms of books, loved The Ruins by Scott Smith. Great book, the movie...not so much. Cabin at the End of the World by Paul Tremblay. Very different kind of horror, more sociological based. I actually had coffee with him at BookCon this past weekend and grilled him as to what he thought was actually going on in that novel and he wouldn't answer. In terms of young adult literature, anything Daniel Jose Older writes makes me happy, and Zoraida Cordova's Brooklyn Brujas series is FIRE. Love her work. But my favorite young adult horror of all time was The Forest of Hands and Feet by Carrie Ryan. It's ten years old and is still the most gorgeous writing in the genre. 

Movies...I loved Bird Box based on the novel by Josh Malerman. And A Quiet Place. Both made me think, a lot. Which is always something I like. And Get Out which was ground breaking in SO many ways. Of course I love the classics, anything by David Cronenberg or Guillermo del Toro. And as far as television, I'm a zombie enthusiast, but my love of Walking Dead is waning, I"m sorry to say. Though it will always have a special place in my heart and the first season is BRILLIANT. And I'm really in to the Danish series The Rain. Very  interesting. 

9. LAST QUESTION!!! If you could write from the POV of any monster - tell their story, get in their head - who would it be and why? 
I would be Chupacabra, but since I LOVE goats, I would be goat KISSER rather than a sucker. Besocabra? Snort!

Lol.

Buy a copy of Five Midnights wherever books are sold or borrow it from your local library!

ANA MARÍA REYES DOES NOT LIVE IN A CASTLE by Hilda Eunice Burgos
Available Now!  
​Ages 9+
“A Latina Little Women with a modern Washington Heights Flair” -Julia Alvarez

​Ana María hopes to attend New York City's best private academy, but her parents can’t afford that with four daughters and another baby on the way. So Ana María must nail her piano piece at the upcoming city showcase to win a scholarship. She practices through distractions and interruptions, including a family trip to the Dominican Republic, and, with help from family and friends, figures out what truly matters.
​

THE LAST 8 by Laura Pohl
Available Now!
Ages 14+
Perfect for fans of The 5th Wave and Illuminae

​Clover Martinez has always been a survivor, which is the only reason she isn’t among the dead when aliens invade and destroy Earth. After surviving the apocalypse, Clover finds The Last Teenagers on Earth at the former Area 51. Instead of heroes, the group is more interested in hiding than fighting back -- and if Clover wants to save Earth, she must convince the others to fight with her. 
​

THE GRIEF KEEPER by Alexandra Villasante
Available 6.11.19
Ages 12+
Perfect for fans of American Street and Mitali Perkins

​When her brother is murdered, and her sister’s life is threatened, Marisol Morales flees El Salvador, and crosses the US border. After being detained by ICE, Marisol is given a stark choice: Be deported or participate in a clinical trial and become a grief keeper—taking the trauma and pain of others into her own body. It’s a risky experiment, but if it means keeping her sister safe, she will risk anything.
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Abuela, let’s start with you, why did you choose to settle in Port Coral after leaving Cuba? What do you love about it? What do you miss most about Cuba?
Pero, this is about Cuba? Nadie me dijo eso. The sea brought me here and this is where I stayed. Next question.

Can you talk to us about the spells/potions people request most often? Are there any you refuse to make? 
Everyone wants better luck or easier memories, because they have pain and tired bones and don’t eat real food. Why is everything sandwiches now? So they come to me when they really need good food from home. But when they need more? I can do that too. 

Lilliana, you grew up in Port Coral same as Rosa what drew you to painting? If you were to turn Port Coral into a mural, what would you paint?  
Graffiti? Don’t look at me like that, Mami. I love painting because I love that it means making a mess while creating something beautiful at the same time. And Port Coral is basically already a mural, this place is almost too pretty. 

Rosa, how would you describe Abuela and your mom’s parenting styles? 
*laughs* Oh, wait, you’re serious? They’re night and day. And also more similar them either of them would like to admit. *ignores both of their looks*

Follow up question, Rosa, what’s the best bit of magic you’ve picked up from the Santos women? 
To always be mindful of my intentions. That one can apply to a lot of things, but is especially important with magic. Also grow mint and rosemary, eat your grapes at midnight on new years, and only light candles in odd numbers.  

Ana-Maria, what do you think you’ll do to keep yourself occupied if she goes to college outside of Port Coral? 
Hey, I’ll be busy too. I’ve got my drums and plans and am applying to the community college...wait. My parents aren’t going to read this, right?

Ok, I’m starving, can we talk for a moment about El Mercado? Ana-Maria, what’s the best kept secret on the menu? 
A croqueta sandwich. Don’t tell my dad I told you if you order it though. He’s not an off-menu kind of guy. 

Rosa, Abuela, Lilliana, what are YOUR favorite El Mercado treats? 
Rosa: the new pastelitos! They’re so flaky and sweet. I don’t know who’s baking them though. 
Liliana: Chicharrones drenched in salt and lime. 
Mimi: The lechon asado is very good. 

Rosa, let’s keep it real, what was your first thought when you saw Alex? 
Rosa: Oh, the new guy? I thought, “cool tattoos.”
Ana: Because you could only see his arms. You should have seen her face when he turned around.
Rosa: Um, well, yes. He has a very good face. 

Alex, can you give us an in-depth description of your tattoo sleeve with some meaning behind the images? 
It’s the blue waves of the sea. I’m happiest out in the water, and I like to be reminded of it when I look at my own skin. 

Alright well, it’s been great to get to know all of you a bit more, one final question, if you can go around the table and answer: What does the sea mean to you? 
Mimi: (Doesn’t answer but her gaze goes out the window.)
Liliana: An old dream.
Rosa: A mystery.
Ana: Beach day. 
Alex: Home. 

<3

Buy a copy of Don't Date Rosa Santos wherever books are sold or borrow it from your local library!

Welcome to another thrilling installment of our blog featuring Musa Fabulosa, Laura Pohl and her debut novel THE LAST 8!
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The Last 8 is a high-stakes survival story about eight teenagers who outlive an alien attack—perfect for fans of The 5th Wave. Clover Martinez has always been a survivor, which is the only reason she isn’t among the dead when aliens invade and destroy Earth as she knows it. When Clover hears an inexplicable radio message, she’s shocked to learn there are other survivors—and that they’re all at the former Area 51. When she arrives, she’s greeted by a band of misfits who call themselves The Last Teenagers on Earth. Only they aren’t the ragtag group of heroes Clover was expecting. The group seems more interested in hiding than fighting back, and Clover starts to wonder if she was better off alone. But then she finds a hidden spaceship, and she doesn’t know what to believe… or who to trust.
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Foreword Reviews says of her debut, “The Last 8 is diverse and immersive science fiction...With its powerful world building and emotional twists ...The Last 8 is a beautifully fresh take on the idea of an alien apocalypse.”  School Library Journal called it, “An extravaganza of nonstop action, with several surprising twists, this will have readers clamoring for more." 

​And without further ado, here is Laura! 

I love hearing about the pop-culture movies that inspired THE LAST 8! Can you tell us which movies or shows influenced you while writing this action packed sci-fi bonanza?
I think one of my biggest inspirations was INDEPENDENCE DAY, which was one of my favorite movies as a kid. As I grew up, I always wanted to write an alien invasion story that had the same cool vibe, so that’s my go-to reference. After I watched ATTACK THE BLOCK, the idea solidified. You can write a sci-fi about a bunch of teens fighting off an alien invasion while still discussing real life issues.
 
How did you keep the tension throughout your novel? Was there anything you kept in mind as you wrote to make sure the reader kept passing the pages? 
I’m one of those people who always tries to end chapters in cliffhangers. It’s always worked for me. Besides, alien invasion stories are tense — you never know who’s going to survive, and I wanted to keep that in mind while writing.
 
What books influenced you to write sci-fi? 
I think movies influenced me more than books for writing sci-fi. I loved watching Steven Spielberg movies as a kid, as a teen I slowly started drifting toward sci-fi books. My parents are big fans of Asimov, so I always had his books lying around the house and that’s one of my earliest memories on reading sci-fi.
 
Was there a moment where your character--the last teenagers on earth--surprised you?
I think it surprised me how much they reacted differently to a single situation. Each of them has a different way of dealing with the end of the world, and it was very interesting that I got to explore those feelings of loss and heartbreak.

Clover is such an amazing Latinx character, what inspired you to make her Mexican-American?
I think it wasn’t as much as a single inspiration as it was the reality of thousands of Mexican-American kids growing up in the USA. I wanted to write a story that could also be about family, and Clover growing up with her abuelos has some traces of my own childhood when I spent holidays at the farm with my own grandparents.
 
How did the story change from what you envisioned to how it ended up?
The beginning changed a lot as I was writing it. First the alien invasion had already happened, then it happened on the page, then it changed again. Overall, I don’t think the tone of the story changed, though — it has always been a story about a girl dealing with how the world can take away so much, and how to power through difficult times.

It seems that creating eight main characters would be especially challenging: what, if any, hurdles did you have to overcome in order to pull this off successfully?
Oh, I sometimes forgot how many people were in the same scene, haha! I think that was one of the hardest parts, and balancing each character to make them relevant within the narrative. Each of them has a part to play in the story and I had to make sure to get it all right so they wouldn’t fade into the background.
 
Were there any characters that immediately clicked as you wrote them or did you write them knowing who would mesh and who wouldn’t?
I think my two favorites to write have always been Brooklyn and Violet. They’re easy to understand for me. Brooklyn talks a lot and deals with everything through joking, but she’s very sensitive at the same time. Violet is quieter but she’s someone who examines every single one of her decision and tends to be very rational in a time of crisis, which is always the way I dealt with things, even coming across as cold. Clover is much the same, so for me, it was interesting to explore that rational side of emotions and how you deal with them.
 
Without spoiling The Last 8 is there anything you can tell us about book 2?
Huuuh, the only thing I can say is that it has good Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy vibes, and I hope you all like it!
 
Give us a glimpse into a day in your life as a writer. What's that look like?
​I wake up, get coffee, sit down to write. I prefer writing in the mornings, so I focus on getting stuff done before I get lunch. I do home office as well (I offer editing services and do copyediting), so I do my regular day job during the afternoons. I love having a routine, so I rarely stray from this format.
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​Who is your author crush and why?
I have so many authors who I deeply love! I think one of my biggest inspirations has been Susan Dennard — she has amazing writing advice that helped me get published, and I absolutely adore her Truthwitch series.
 
What is your wish for the future of Latinx in children's literature?
I hope we can get all types of stories out there. Not just stories about the experience of being Latinx, but latinx kids saving planets, the galaxies, dogs, being vampires, being whatever and whoever they want to be, without having to give up our unique identity to do that.
 
Why is representation is so important?  What kinds of characters did you write that are underrepresented in YA lit?
​I think representation allows us to reflect in our own existence and understand it through literature. It allows us a glimpse into ourselves and knowing we can tell stories, too, that we matter and that we’re important. While writing The Last 8, I wanted to write a character who was aromantic like me, who dealt with depression and anxiety, and who came from a similar background. It’s how Clover became my MC.
 
If a teacher is using your book in the classroom, what is an important point or lesson you'd want them to convey to students?
I think I’d love that the takeaway from The Last 8 would help more teens deal with their anxiety and depression. Clover survives through all of that, and it’s about moving one step at a time. I believe that mental health is something that we still need to discuss in society to break the stigmas around it, as well as provide help to all those who need it.

Buy a copy of The Last 8 wherever books are sold or borrow it from your local library!

Welcome back to the Musas blog! This week Musa Sara Faring (The Tenth Girl) sat down with K.K. Pérez to discuss inspiration, balancing multiple projects, and of course her sophomore novel: The Tesla Legacy. 

THE TESLA LEGACY follows a precocious young scientist named Lucy Phelps whose fateful encounter in the Tesla Suite of the New Yorker Hotel unlocks her dormant electrical powers. As Lucy struggles to understand her new abilities through scientific experimentation, she is thrust into a centuries old battle between rival alchemical societies. One side wants her help and the other wants her dead, but both believe she is the next step in human evolution. Unfortunately, carriers of the genetic mutation―including Nikola Tesla―have a greatly reduced life expectancy. Even if Lucy can outrun her enemies, she can’t outrun herself.