Sharon G. Flake is as much an inspiration in person, as are her written words on the page. Today we are excited to welcome this three-time Coretta Scott King Honor winner, and veteran author to Cynsations to discuss her latest release Hattie Mae Begins Again (Knopf, 2026)—a middle grade verse novel set in 1938 Philadelphia.
Congratulations on the release of Hattie Mae Begins Again! What inspired you to write a companion novel to Once in a Blue Moon (Knopf, 2023)?
Once in a Blue Moon is the sort of book that begs for a sequel. The protagonist is an eleven-year-old boy who struggles with anxiety due to an incident he blames on himself. James Henry refuses to leave the house, even to attend school. Yet every evening, he boards an imaginary spaceship along with his twin sister, Hattie Mae. Together they explore planets and far off galaxies. Hattie is James Henry’s protector and confidante. She believes in order for James Henry to heal, he must return to the place where his troubles began—the lighthouse under a blue moon, if all is to be set right again.
At the conclusion of the novel, Hattie Mae decides to attend an elite school for girls in Philadelphia. When readers meet Hattie in my new novel, Hattie Mae Begins Again, she is all set to take a solo trip to the big city. Like millions of others during the great migration, Hattie Mae is a seeker, looking for a new life. The girls at her new school are the daughters of prestigious doctors, lawyers and architects. Several of the young ladies, however, are not very fond of girls from the South.
“Go back to the farm,” was a familiar term used in the ‘30s. Politicians threw the term around, as did others. It was a way to look down on the new arrivals; to separate oneself from them or one’s own Southern roots or to curry political favor with constituents by villainizing and othering newcomers. Like any new student at a new school, Hattie Mae does her best to fit in. But there are bumps along the way, sacrifices to be made.
Will she leave her old self and family values behind to be accepted among Philadelphia’s elite? Should she return home and forget about the life she envisions for herself? Hattie wrestles with a lot in this book, but fun, joy and friendship are also part of her journey. Along with readers, Hattie discovers a great deal about herself and turns out to be one terrific girl, a true leader as well as an inspiration to the community.
Every writer weaves a trace of their own history in the fictional books they put out in the world. How do you draw boundaries–emotionally or professionally–around sharing your lived experience?
I have spent much of my career writing realistic fiction. I only have a kernel of an idea when I begin to write those books. I allow my characters, muse and creativity to lead the way. But, like other authors I do draw on my life occasionally when I write. Take The Skin I’m In (Hyperion, 1998), my first published novel. I wrote it several years after giving birth to my daughter Brittney, a tall, dark-skinned beauty. She and my protagonist, Maleeka have those two things in common. But that is where their similarities end.
I grew up insecure like Maleeka, the protagonist. However, I was not bullied like her. But I feared speaking up for myself. At college parties, I stood in the center of the room hoping to gain some invisibility. The teacher in the novel, Miss Saunders, and I both had the same career as a public relations specialist. I am also quirky like the math teacher. Did I consciously plan any of this? No, believe it or not. Pieces of a writer often leak onto the pages like ink although we may not be fully aware of it at the time.
I loved the neighborhood and block that I grew up on. So, at the core of my books you will always find adults who see and believe in young people, as was the case with me. You will find neighborhoods serve as a reminder that young people need not live elsewhere to feel as if they belong, are valued and equal to those outside their communities.
I grew up in a house with three brothers, two sisters—and one tiny bathroom. The girls slept in one room: one bed sometimes as well. The boys had a bigger room, given the times, I believe it was simply because they were boys. Our parents had the largest bedroom, but my siblings and I had the most fun. At night, with the lights off you could hear my brother Gregory yell something silly or ridiculous. That was all it took to set the other five Flake children off. A cascade of laughter would ensue as we held our belly’s or spit slid down chins from all the giggling. Ultimately, my parents’ door would open wide. “Get back to sleep or else,” my father would yell. Still, it would take a while for us to settle down.
Everyone on our narrow block knew the Flakes. And we knew them. My mother did days’ work (that’s what it’s called in Philadelphia). She made other women’s lives easier by caring for the inside of their homes. Some jobs she took were out of the city, in New Jersey. I remember going along with her on occasion. Beautiful homes. The shore close by, blue and quiet. Sliding glass doors, huge patios. The homeowners were always white, kind. I could sit and watch television, snack, relax on the patio without interference. But I never wished to live in any of those places. What could be better than my neighborhood? People knew me there, loved me. When our parents were at work, our neighbors parented us. “Does your mom know you’re on the porch?” Miss Connie or Ms. Portia would say. Of course we would lie. But they knew better. So, back into the house we went.
Summertime was the best time to live on our block. There was nothing better than getting drenched under the spray of the fire hydrant on a blazing hot day. Or jumping double Dutch in the middle of the street. We chased friends during a game of hide and seek. And helped our parents set up picnic tables, umbrellas and food for block parties that started in the morning and lasted until the moon came out.
Every book I write comes out of this community. Mr. Nixon, a tall lumbering man, and a few other neighbors made it into my novels. But mostly it is the lessons I learned living there that appear in one book after the other.
We are responsible for one another; we learned on our block. Neighbors can be like family, is another lesson. It is okay to be a little Black girl from the hood. And nobody, regardless of where they live, is more valued or important than we were.
With a zip code like ours, it might be easy for people to think we are poor. No such thing was true—not that poverty is a crime. But such notions limit our view of people in some communities. They can limit the way people see my characters and the neighborhoods they envelop as well. I will never forget my oldest sister Veronica saying that Black people regardless of economics had middle class values. I knew what she meant, because I had grown up seeing it.
Our neighbors had a strong work ethic. They valued education and home ownership. They were family people who believed in being good citizens and good neighbors. And they wanted more for their children than they might have grown up with—more opportunity, more financial freedom and more education.
Those values are in my book if people have eyes to see. It is why Maleeka’s mother in The Skin I’m In speaks a bit of French and talks of playing the stock market. It is why John-Jon’s father in The Family I’m In is an entrepreneur with several businesses. And why Hattie Mae ends up at an elite school in a Black neighborhood attended by Black girls of means, though she herself has lived on a farm.
Hattie Mae Begins Again is richly layered with history. What drew you to a particular historical moment that form the setting of this story?
Readers should remember that Hattie Mae Begins Again is the follow up to Once in a Blue Moon, which takes place in 1938. I selected this time for two reasons—there was a blue moon that year—and my father would have been around the same age of my protagonist, James Henry, eleven years old.
I began my research with a walking tour of the most historically significant African American community in Philadelphia—the Seventh Ward. W.E.B. Du Bois, a pioneering sociologist and scholar, conducted his groundbreaking research of the Seventh Ward. Going door to door, he gathered direct information from about 5,000 residents on their social conditions, educational experiences, housing concerns and more. His study The Philadelphia Negro, demonstrated that a legacy of slavery, poverty, and Jim Crow laws made it nearly impossible for residents to lead a quality life or to become upwardly mobile without significant, pervasive changes in America. My tour took me to Engine Eleven home to one of the first all-Black fire companies and firemen in the nation.
I toured Mother Bethel African Episcopal (AME) Church, one of the oldest Black churches in America. My research also took me to The Free Library of Philadelphia, Temple University and the University of Pennsylvania. I did not stop there; however, I hit the Internet as well. My time online was a game changer. There I learned about Black Doctor’s Row on Christian Street in the Thirtieth Ward of Philadelphia. I did not believe most people had heard of it or knew of its historical significance. That is why I made the decision to place Hattie Mae’s school—Miss Abigail’s School for Exceptional Girls—on that block.
Please tell us about your time at the Free Library of Philadelphia, ‘plowing through The Tribune’, and the Temple University archives. What was your process of research and selection of facts to present to the young audience.
As a child, I often walked to my neighborhood library. It was on Lehigh Avenue, about six blocks away from home. As an adult, I could still recall the smell of those small, wooden chairs in the children’s area. Research on the city would not be possible without a trip to the library, I believed. I went to the Free Library downtown twice, staying for hours. I used the microfilm to access The Philadelphia Tribune from 1938 through the spring of 1939. This period covers Hattie Mae’s life on the farm and her arrival to, and experiences at, the girls’ school in Philadelphia. I brought my water bottle along because the librarians did not mind patrons taking a sip or two of something refreshing. I had my laptop out, as I took copious notes.
To my parents, the Tribune was the official record of Black life in Philadelphia and other areas of the country. When I was young, they read it twice weekly, cover to cover. Politics, society pages, education, history, social commentaries—The Tribune had it all. As I conducted research, it provided me additional information about individuals and organizations I had only learned about weeks prior while researching at the University of Pennsylvania.
There I learned of the school’s first African American medical school graduate, Dr. Nathan Mossel. He was also the founder of Frederick Douglass Memorial Hospital and Training School for Nurses. Mossell played a prominent role in elevating and working with Black doctors and nurses, while also promoting more positive healthcare outcomes among African Americans. Douglass hospital was only one of two Black hospitals in America at its founding. While reading the Tribune, I learned that Douglass hospital ran into financial trouble years later. It also had a rich, long history in the Seventh Ward as well as a dental clinic. I knew I had to find a way to include this information in Hattie Mae Begins Again.
A treat for me was browsing through the Tribune and learning more about our community by reading the society pages. There were pages of articles detailing who was coming to town for the holidays, special events, church teas and more. The Tribute listed your address, the wardrobe you had on, and everything served on the menu. Both the elite and the everyday man appeared on society pages, dozens of clubs as well. There were clubs that focused on card games and others built around sewing or cooking, jitterbugging or playing an instrument. Through these clubs, I witnessed the social lives and expansive interests of African Americans, young and old. I could see what they valued as a community. How important a rich social life was to Blacks in Philadelphia at the time. A favorite scene in Hattie Mae Begins Again, takes place when a group of women in a club sow into Hattie’s life. In doing so, they plant the seed that blooms in Hattie later—leadership.
Temple University’s Charles L. Blockson Afro-American collection has over 500,000 items, from paintings, to documents, books and statues. I arrived to find dozens of documents awaiting me. I read and took photos and notes. I discovered organizations I had never heard of, such as the Pyramid Club. This organization of professional Black men consisted of doctors, lawyers, artists and others. It provided a social outlet for like-minded men but also provided a vehicle for them to do social justice work as well.
At the Blockson, I saw the full spectrum of Black life in statistics and groundbreaking studies, in pictorials and novels, and Black faces dating back to the seventeen hundreds. Over and over again, I was reminded of Black joy, Black excellence, determination, community and family values.
Maybe you have enough research material to pen a third verse novel in this book series? Could you share with us what you are writing next?
I plan to take Hattie Mae back to the farm, so she and James Henry will be together again. I love lighthouses and hope James Henry will be a lightkeeper for a while. I plan to spend the night in a lighthouse as part of my research on this book. Hattie Mae will work at the summer campground/seaside resort that her Uncle purchases. Trouble is never far afoot in a novel. But I am not sure what form the trouble will take in my next book just yet.
How would you describe your collaboration with your editor Gianna Lakenauth especially across this duology? Were there any editorial moments that helped you revise your manuscripts more clearly?
I love working with Gianna. She was not the editor for a big part of the first novel, however. She stepped in during some of the final processes, and we hit it off right away. Gianna gives me a lot of freedom. I write before I do the research, then back my way into the story. That means a lot of rewriting, of realizing that I went up an alley that no longer serves me. She was good at keeping me on track and valuing the directions I traveled in at the same time.
When the book opened many rewrites ago, we met Hattie’s friend Alabaster right away. It was clear she felt as if she had to fix him; protect him from the girls at school. Hattie had a similar relationship with her brother, James Henry. Gianna pointed that out, and it was significant too. Hattie did not always seem as if she fit into this environment. Gianna could see this when I couldn’t. As a result, I was able to dig deeper into the research to create a world that fit all of Hattie’s needs and seemed real to the reader as well.
In Hattie Mae, the vocabulary and voice in free verse hits the mark for middle grade readers. The book length metaphor of the suitcase is particularly striking with the poem “Getting rid of things that no longer suit me” appearing at end of the first act. Could you tell us about the imagery and motifs and how you strung them together in this novel?
I am exceptionally good at painting pictures with words. Young readers tell me often that reading my novels seems like watching a movie. This is how I write my verse novels as well. For several drafts, I had Hattie Mae toss her old clothing into the trash can in the backyard. Her clothes symbolized someone she wasn’t anymore. She wanted to distance herself from them. One day Hattie stepped inside her closet. That is when I remembered the suitcase in the corner. Why wouldn’t Hattie stash her things inside it, I thought? This would also give her a way to retrieve them later, symbolizing a renewed way to see both the value of her past as well as her present situation. And for the reader to see her work hard to set aside her old things and her old life.
With regards to your process of building poetic language, do you have any tips to share with beginning writers who may be thinking of writing in verse? Any writing exercises or mentor texts?
For starters, they may want to read a few well-written books in verse. My writing exercises are simple–I sit down and write novels I am being paid to write. I do teach writing classes periodically. I love to come up with writing prompts that get students going. Often, I lead students to Charles Johnson’s novel Middle Passage. I want them to see how to create great writing and imagery. Reading his novel as a novice writer, I learned the power of figurative language in writing. It was a game changer for me when it came to writing The Skin I’m in.
Any favorite poets or poems you keep on your bedside for a daily dose of inspiration?
My great-grandfather Titus Cottingham wrote poetry. I think of him as a poet, though I have never seen his work. Had he been given the opportunity, might he have written his own book of poetry, I always wonder? In honor of him, I have a character named Titus in Once in a Blue Moon. Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni, Claude McKay, and Maya Angelou are my go to poets.
It’s been twenty-five years since your debut, The Skin I’m In won The Coretta Scott King/John Steptoe Award for New Talent. What keeps your creative spark alive through the seasons of a long career?
I love what I do and who I do it for, young people. I still feel fortunate to be in this business, and to have generations of readers reach out to me about my impact on their lives. The new voices in our community, the new modes of telling stories all help to galvanize me and push me forward. And there is forever that small voice inside saying we’re not quite done yet.
Please tell us about any writing adjacent activities or daily pursuits that may feed your creative energies?
Returning home to Philadelphia is always inspiring. The neighborhood I grew up in still holds magic for me. But it seems easy for others to denigrate such neighborhoods. There are no lawns, just concrete. One may find graffiti, empty buildings and lots or trash cans askew days after the trash man has done his job. If this is all you see, you move through the world with limited vision, I’d say.
Philly has so many small blocks. I navigate this one and that one, noticing the different personalities of each. One such block near my dad’s house has cornstalks on the street pole in the fall, cascading flowers in a giant planter at the opposite end during the summer. There you’ll find a wooden bench inviting you to sit a spell. To relax. Close by you’ll find a backyard filled with the most glorious flowers one can imagine.
Occasionally, I stop and imagine my life as a kid taking arts and crafts classes a stone’s throw away in Fairmount Park; being driven to church by our good neighbors Mr. Nixon and his wife or headed to Jersey in a stationwagon driven by Miss Mary who returned often to buy crabs on sale. My father did not own a car. It was neighbors who drove us places at times. A Jersey trip was when I first discovered Dairy Queen. I am not certain if I had my own money or if Miss Mary purchased the sweet treat. But it sticks in my mind even now, tall as a tower, a dream built of sugar and sweet cream, much like the block I was raised on.
Have you ever paused or shifted your focus as an author? What helped you find your way forward?
Mid-career, I found myself in quite a pickle. It began when a new editor gave me written feedback on a novel. This came in the form of a twenty-three-page response. I had never received more than seven pages at a time during my then decade-long career. I was certain she did not like my work. It also did not help that I had been given the largest advance to date in my career. Call it ego, but for the first time in my career, I felt pressured to deliver and to perform in a big way. I ignored my editorial letter when my editor told me the manuscript was on the right track, and we did not have far to go. Not able to turn off my brain, I rewrote the entire book.
Now I had a four-hundred-page novel, not the two hundred plus book I began with. I was certain it was a masterpiece. And in my mind, it had to be. For I was convinced, I had something to prove. Turns out it was just awful. The publishing house was in transition. My book ended up with two different editors. Luckily, they gave no real advice because they two were moving on. My agent ‘s advice was for us to take it to another publishing house. But the fire was lit, and my confidence in myself fragile.
But at least I was familiar with this editor. Andrea Davis Pinkney had discovered me. Her first thoughts about my novel—cut it by two hundred pages. Give my character a positive strength. The novel Pinned (Scholastic Press, 2014) went on to be nominated for an NAACP Image Award, a Kirkus Best book of the year award, and more. Last year, the Pittsburgh Public School system adopted it as a required middle grade read. I am told the protagonist is the only Black female wrestler in children’s literature.
I wrestled with Pinned for five years, many of those years prior to Andrea’s intervention. During this period, I continued to struggle with writer’s block, though I never stopped writing. Going to a hypnotist did not help.
Meeting with a woman who worked with athletes that were stuck, did the trick, however.
“What can you control?” she asked and my breakthrough began.
“Nothing,” I said.
And it was true. Writers cannot control what their editor, publisher or the public thinks of their work. We do not control the motives, actions or outcomes of book award committees. All we can do is write the best books we know how. Along the way, I had forgotten this.
Even after Pinned was published, I still sought perfection. It was only after receiving feedback on Once in a Blue Moon, that I realized what had happened with the other editor. She had given me line-by-line feedback, the same as my Blue Moon editor. I had no experience with it and took it as a slight—a big one. It shook me because I had no frame of reference for it, and saw it as critique and judgement rather than a critique. I have always been hard on myself and felt judged, it all became too much I suppose. Some editors give more global feedback, some give line-by-line feedback. Ten years after I had written the book that later became Pinned, I finally got it. Lesson learned.
What advice would you give to writers who are newly agented or seeking representation?
I would suggest they become a part of a community of writers and other creatives. I was on an island alone, which is also why I stayed stuck so long, I believe. Other writers have walked the road new authors have walked, pick their brains, go to conferences, get their advice, follow them on line. It’s all a win-win.
To learn more about Sharon’s thoughts on the importance of community see Cynthia’s 2018 Cynsations interview with her here.
You have approached writing as a form of advocacy for readers from your first book onwards. How do you stay in conversation with young readers, directly or indirectly?
My joy comes from going to schools to speak, connect and be in the company of young people. I take every opportunity when I am in a grocery store or walking in the park or a street to ask how young people how they are doing, to say hello. Most of these young people are strangers. But it is important that as adults we let them know we see them, hear them and believe in them.
For many years during my visits home to Philadelphia, I would go into the house to drop off my luggage and leave. Outside our front door, young people were nearly always jumping rope. They always let me be a part of that. I was in my thirties then. In my fifties, it wasn’t unusual for kids from up the street to knock on my parents’ front door. “Is Sharon home?” they’d inquire. We would sit on the front steps together, chatting. I will never forget the image of one neighborhood girl walking back and forth late at night, under the moon and the streetlight, as she read one of my novels.
These days most of my encounters with young people are online where they often find me, and during school visits. Most recently, I was at Black Rock Middle School in Villanova, Penn., and the Free Library of Philadelphia. The audiences could not have been more different, and yet the same. Most of the students at the library were African American, while Black Rock students were primarily white. Here is what I love about a good book, though. The response from both groups were very similar. So were the smiles. The hugs. The amazing, thoughtful questions. And the way they looked at me—as if they are star struck—in love. I especially see this with boys, even if they have not read my books.
I talk about my challenges with grammar and spelling, why I’m not a doctor which was my goal for many years. The audience opens too, often. Boys share pieces of themselves too. It’s a fun, safe space and I think everyone picks up on that. Many of those in attendance run up to me at the end. “Sign my cast, my forehead, my paper,” they said to me at Black Rock. Students at the Free Library were no different. “Your book made me want to read,” a boy told me. A teacher brought up another boy in the audience. He did not want to come to my presentation. She asked him to read about thirty pages before he makes up his mind. There he was in the audience, listening to my every word.
Young people will read. Boys will read. Putting an author in their midst helps a great deal to get them excited about books and the written word. Making certain all students relate to the right book can nearly ensure a student will pick up the next book you recommend. Damn, I love what I do.
Cynsations Notes
Sharon G. Flake is the author of the groundbreaking novel, The Skin I’m In whichbrought a bold dimension to literature for young readers. Now considered a modern classic, the book is used in classrooms worldwide and studied by experts in education and literature. Flake has authored over a dozen books, with more than 1.8 million in print globally. Her work has been translated into multiple languages including Korean, Italian, French and Portuguese. “My goal is to get young people reading, with well-written, fast paced, character driven novels that young people see themselves in, no matter where they live on the planet.”
Mitu Malhotra holds an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She has been recognized as a Lee & Low New Visions Award finalist, winner of the Katherine Paterson Prize for Literature, and with scholarships from Boyds Mills/Highlights Foundation, Tin House, and a Djerassi Program writing residency. Her short story “Toxins” is part of ELA curriculum and her writing has appeared in Hunger Mountain, Thin Air Magazine and elsewhere. In previous avatars, Mitu was a textile and fashion designer, and has taught in India, the Middle East and the US. Mitu is an active member of CBIG (Children’s Book Illustrators Group, NYC) and SCBWI, New Jersey. When not writing or drawing, Mitu can be found cooking, upcycling clothes and sewing memory kimonos or building miniature doll houses from salvaged materials. Website: www.mitumalhotra.com Instagram: @mituart Bluesky: @mitumalhotra.bsky.social.