By AJ Eversole

Today we have Christine Hartman Derr (Cherokee) to discuss her debut novel, Raven Rising (Heartdrum, 2026). Raven, Rising has received two starred reviews ahead of its July release. Today Christine speaks to the heart of the story and how being Cherokee has shaped her life.

Raven possesses magical powers in the kitchen. Her treats can mysteriously change lives. How does this concept of kitchen magic connect to Cherokee traditions around food and community?

Raven’s magic isn’t connected to her Cherokee heritage, as I didn’t want to play into any “mystic Indian” stereotypes. That said, food plays such an important part in the plot. Raven and her mom were accomplished bakers, with dreams to one day open their own cupcake bakery. Food is a way to share care, to connect—in Cherokee traditions and non-Native traditions alike—and definitely plays a part in Raven’s healing journey. Baking is Raven’s path to self-forgiveness, to healing, and to helping her new community.

You’re originally from Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, and now live in Tennessee. How does Raven’s experience of being a Cherokee girl navigating a new place reflect your own journey or the experiences of Cherokee families living away from tribal lands?

I moved a lot as a kid, first around Oklahoma and later out of state. Staying connected to culture and community requires intentionality, which was something I wanted to show through Raven’s journey. Her community continues to be there for her, across the miles—distance can’t stop love.

Cherokee Nation has thousands of at-large citizens, and I wanted to show that whether we are living on reservation land, in neighboring areas, or far away, there is no distance that can keep us from connecting to our people, culture, heritage, and ways of life as long as we continue to be intentional about maintaining and strengthening those bonds.

Raven faces a cruel rumor. Can you talk about the decision to address both supernatural prejudice and grief simultaneously in a middle grade novel?

Off-hand comments can turn into rumors that take on a life of their own.

At the same time, Raven’s grief isn’t only hers; her aunt—now her guardian—and many friends and family in her life are affected, too. Though these seem like disconnected issues, Raven hesitates to seek support from her aunt or faraway friends because she knows they’re hurting, too.

Middle grade readers don’t exist in a vacuum; they have as much going on in as many areas of their lives as the adults around them, and they often become aware of this in these middle-school years. Raven’s problems do seem big—bullying, grief, moving away from community.

Although the scope of her issues seems larger, kids are dealing with similar problems every day. Maybe it’s on a different scale, or they’re grieving a pet, or a grandparent, or a lost friendship. Maybe their bully is their own internal monologue or they wouldn’t even call the unkindnesses they face ‘bullying’. But these are concepts they’re likely familiar with, and life rarely only throws one curveball at a time. I wanted them to see where Raven gets it wrong as well as how she works to get it right.

The vice principal keeps targeting Raven for dress code violations. Why was it important to show this specific form of institutional bias against a Cherokee girl?

Dress codes have historically been used to target girls, female-presenting people, and minorities. I wanted to show how disruptive these problematic systems can be, and how they can be weaponized to attempt to control others. Having spent my middle and high school years as one of the few Native students in my school system, I am quite familiar with institutional bias. I often experienced it in Social Studies classrooms, but institutional bias is rarely limited to one avenue.

My hope is that Raven’s experience working to change a broken system might prove helpful to students experiencing similar issues in their lives.

Raven’s magical baking stopped after the accident that took her parents. How do you see her magical abilities as connected to her healing journey and relationship with her Cherokee identity?

Well, Raven’s baking stopped after she lost her parents. But the magic kept poking at her, prodding her to return to it. Sometimes, we all need a little push on our healing journey. Raven’s magic is her push. Being pushed to return to her baking also helps her to not distance herself from other activities that remind her of her parents, like practicing Tsalagi language. So while her magic isn’t connected to her heritage, her magic does give her the push she needs to step forward on the path of healing.

You’ve spoken about your commitment to Cherokee language revitalization and including Cherokee language learners as characters. How does language appear in Raven, Rising?

Raven is a Cherokee language learner, and she ultimately makes a choice she fears is a betrayal to her linguistic education, her culture, and her community. She then has to work to mitigate this potential harm and work on healing relationships. Her self-forgiveness allows her to return to language learning and demonstrates how far she’s come in her healing journey.

My hope is that this shows there is no pressure to be perfect. We are all trying, we will all undoubtedly make mistakes along the way, and it’s our willingness to keep trying and do what’s right that is most important. I also hope that the significance of the language, how it shapes Raven’s worldview, sparks a deeper interest in Cherokee language for readers.

Laurel and Hazel are Raven’s lifelines in this new place. What role do these friendships play in helping her navigate both the mundane challenges and the magical ones?

Laurel and Hazel are integral to Raven’s healing journey. They are fierce and strong in their own rights and show Raven that there is a place for her in Bear Creek Falls. Most importantly, they show her that she isn’t alone and she doesn’t have to face these challenges on her own—that she doesn’t deserve to face these challenges on her own.

Their friendship is magic!

Raven considers using her magical sweets to whip up a justice so powerful it would set everything right. Can you talk about this exploration of justice, power, and consequences in middle grade fiction?

So often, middle-grade readers are treated as though they are powerless. They don’t yet have the agency that a driver’s license affords teens, but they have a deeper and more nuanced understanding of the world than they did in the early elementary years. But they can affect change. This age range is exploring their understanding of justice, power, and consequences through the media they consume, the world around them, and what is happening in their schools and neighborhoods.

Yes, Raven considers using her magical sweets to help her cause. But she also takes action that young readers could emulate: talking to those in positions of power, bringing the issue up with their peers, utilizing petitions and the power of story.

Injustice thrives when no one is addressing it. So why not show our young readers that it’s okay, and even needed, to bring these issues into the spotlight?

You won multiple awards at Vermont College of Fine Arts including the Revisionary Award. You were selected as a DEI Fellow and Center for Arts and Social Justice Fellow. How did your time at VCFA shape this debut novel?

Ah, this is a difficult question. On the one hand, winning awards is, of course, so fun. It offered a confidence boost at a time when I really needed it. My DEI work and Center for Arts and Social Justice fellowship allowed me to use my voice in much the same way Raven uses hers: to notice, to see, to listen to others and work to make positive changes.

On the other hand, for every award and fellowship I’ve been selected for, I have a rejection (or three) to match. It’s tough to not be chosen. To feel like you weren’t good enough. My time at VCFA taught me that a ‘no’ now isn’t a ‘no’ forever. It was an important lesson to learn, as publishing decisions are based on so much more than ‘good enough.’ There’s a lot at play that those on the submitting end may not be privy to, and not being chosen doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve to be chosen.

I also learned a lot about the craft of writing, of course! And my favorite acquisition from that education is my writing community. My time at VCFA connected me with many incredible people and led me to apply for other writing related events like the We Need Diverse Books Native Children’s and YA Writing Intensive. Finding and being a part of these writing communities has been life changing in the many ways. Publishing is a hard business. But the writing community? That’s the best part.

What are you working on next?

I’m currently working on a middle grade novel in verse that follows a sixth grader as she moves from Oklahoma, where sixth grade is middle school, to Indiana, where sixth grade is still considered elementary school. As she struggles to find where she fits in this place, she discovers a dark history that her new town doesn’t seem to acknowledge and works to correct that while healing a rift in her family.

Cynsational Notes

Christine Hartman Derr is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma. Originally from Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, Christine lives in East Tennessee with her spouse, children, and a rambunctious crew of lovable pets with themed names. She holds an MFA in Writing for Children from VCFA. Find her short fiction in Just YA and Legendary Frybread Drive-In. Her debut picture book, Until We Meet Again: Donadagohvi and debut novel, Raven, Rising, are forthcoming from Heartdrum/HarperCollins Children’s.

A.J. Eversole grew up in rural Oklahoma, where wide open spaces fueled her imagination and a lifelong love of stories. An enrolled member of the Cherokee Nation, she writes across adult and children’s literature, from stories centering Cherokee identity and cultural reclamation to fantasy, speculative fiction, and narratives of everyday courage.

Her work appears in Legendary Frybread Drive-In (Heartdrum/HarperCollins), a Michael L. Printz Award–winning anthology, Beyond the Glittering World (Torrey House Press), and Never Whistle at Night Part II (Vintage, 2026). Through her fiction, Eversole centers Native voices and futures while honoring the living presence of tradition, community, and story.

In addition to her creative work, she reports on Native voices in literature for Cynsations. She lives and writes in Oklahoma. Find her on social media @ajeversole.