Tina Athaide

A Meandering Mind

Tina now has a newsletter! A Meandering Mind…Thoughts on a Writer’s Life. Read the first issue below. If you’d like to sign up, visit the Contact page or fill out the form at the end of the post.


Silence isn’t empty. It’s full of answers-Unknown

Dear Writers,

I was thrilled to write a guest post on Sarah Aronson’s newsletter  until I sat down to begin writing and there was nothing. No ideas. Not even a little mustard seed sized idea.

Many of us have experienced that feeling of being STUCK. Whether it is in a job, a relationship, a story plot, or a character’s arc. My own students in elementary school will often say they are stuck. They don’t know what to write or how to solve a problem. 

Last week, Sarah talked about inviting calm into our lives and specifically into our writing lives. My calm comes from finding a space of SILENCE. That doesn’t always mean quietness. It is finding a space of silence that includes mindfulness. And then, in that space being mindful of what I am feeling, the frustration, the questions, the victories, and the possibilities. THEN, letting it all go!

That is when the creativity flows.
The answer appears.
You become UNSTUCK.

Mindfulness begins with the simple act of breathing. Being aware of your breath. Being alert, focused, and listening in whatever quiet space you have created for yourself. You can do this sitting down, but I have also welcomed mindfulness on my walks with my dog, Butler or while soaking in a bubble bath, and even while watching my students play at recess.

It is in that silence that answers flow, characters speak and ideas pops like mustard seeds sizzling in hot oil. But it doesn’t work if you are grasping for that creativity. Instead, remain open and allow space for the creativity to flow. Bringing mindfulness into my classroom has been one of the greatest gifts to my students. 

Bringing mindfulness into my writing life has been of the greatest gifts to myself. 

Are you ready to find your mindful space?

This morning, let’s try bringing the practice of mindfulness into our writing lives.

Reflect on your work and consider what is going well. What are you avoiding? What motivates you to come back to the story? What is your character trying to tell you? What are you forcing your character to do? Are there small victories you can celebrate? 

Then let it all go.

Find a place to sit, go for a walk, or doodle. Right now, I sit outside in the mornings with a hot cup of tea. I breathe in the crisp fall air and sink into the silence. 

Find your space.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Focus on your breath. 
Be aware of your surroundings. 
Listen.
Be patient.

The creativity will flow.

Have a great writing week! 


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Forgotten Histories of Ugandan Goans

The Goan Entebbe Institute, 1951, hosting a farewell for the departing president ‘PCSC’ Nazareth. (Photo courtesy and copyright of the Nazareth family.)

WHY HISTORICAL FICTION IS IMPORTANT

“I don’t like history, but I liked your book and it wasn’t boring.”

This is one of my favorite comments from young readers who have read my middle grade book about the expulsion of Asian Indians from Uganda. Capturing a child’s imagination, piquing their interest, and making history come alive, are just some of the reasons I write historical fiction and why I use it in my classroom.

Here are my top five reasons why reading historical fiction is beneficial:

  1. We can learn a lot about our present time and our own lives from voices in the past.
  2. Historical fiction creates a space for conversations about the present and the past.
  3. It provides opportunities for multigenerational conversations and connections.
  4. It allows readers to experience events from the past as they are unfolding through the everyday lives of the characters in the stories.

Dawn Finch, a children’s writer and librarian, offers these tips when selecting historical novels:

  • Does the novel present a historical story that doesn’t conflict too strongly with historical records?
  • Are the characters portrayed realistically and in authentic settings?
  • Does the book make use of well researched historical facts?
  • Does it avoid stereotypes, myths and overt bias?

Historical fiction allows you to take a ride on a time machine and the first rule of time-travel is that you cannot change the past. But when you finish reading the last page of books like Orange for the Sunsets, Red, White, and Whole, or Kid Sterling, you may discover that the past has changed you. If you would like to learn more about the history behind Orange for the Sunsets, click on the link below to read the article in the Joao-Toque Literary Journal.

Please share your tips or thoughts on using historical fiction in schools. I’d love to hear from you.

Read the full article in the Joao-Roque Literary Journal


3 Reasons Why #OwnVoices Books Matter

Written for HarperKids, view the original article on Medium.

Monday morning at school, I met with my fifth and sixth grade reading group. Before we dived into our latest story, the students asked about the #OwnVoices tag on my promotional post for my upcoming debut book, Orange for the Sunsets. They didn’t know what the hashtag meant.

Until then, I’d never stopped to think how important it would be for readers to really understand the importance of that phrase — #ownvoices.

My students knew my book took place during the ninety-day expulsion of Asian Indians from Uganda, but I reminded them that the real story was about the friendship between Asha and Yesofu — an Indian girl and Ugandan boy. I shared that in the past writers had researched cultural groups and written about those groups, but they didn’t have firsthand experiences or connections to the cultural groups.

“Why does that matter?” A student asked.

It was a fair question and I asked the students to think about how a story is affected by the writer’s personal experiences.

We discussed how….

The person behind the words is like the main character

#OwnVoices is more than just opening the door to let marginalized groups tell their stories. It’s about giving children the opportunity to see themselves in the stories they are reading and know the person behind the words is similar to them.

As a child, I loved escaping into my character’s world — solving mysteries with Nancy Drew, getting into trouble with Anne of Green Gables, and diving into adventures with Enid Blyton’s Famous Five. But, I never saw anyone like myself in those books. A girl with black hair and coffee colored skin who licked the last samosa crumb off her fingers. I can only imagine what it would have felt like to see myself reflected on the pages and know that I shared similar experiences with the person that wrote the story.

The writer is the best authority on telling their own story

When I set out to write Orange for the Sunsets about the expulsion of Asian Indians from Uganda, the purpose wasn’t a lesson on diversity, empathy, and racial equality.

I wrote about the expulsion of Asian Indians from Uganda, because that is what I knew. I was born in Uganda. My parents, grandparents, family and friends had lived there. I knew first-hand about the fear, horror, and uncertainty they faced when they scrambled to get out of the country before Idi Amin’s deadline. All of these experiences gave my characters an added richness.

It is first-hand storytelling.

We move away from a monolithic idea about a particular cultural group

When I told the students that my main character’s family is from Goa, a state in India that stretches along the Arabian Sea. They immediately placed Asha in a box with all other Indians.

Asha must be Hindu.

She must be vegetarian.

She must speak Hindi.

Wrong.

This is the danger of the single story.

Yes, Asha is Indian, but she is Goan and there are subtle differences within that cultural community that make her story unique. The food from Goa was influenced by the Portuguese. Many Goans are Catholic and spoke Portuguese and Konkani in addition to English and Swahili. The Goan Institute Club played a huge role in building a sense of community for the Indians living in Entebbe and Kampala and subsequently those ties continued through the years. I share the deepest possible understanding of the intricacies of Asha’s life because I have lived it.

The single story is limiting. It leads children to misinterpret people, their backgrounds, and how they live their lives. It leads children to believe that all Indians are the same. This is why we need books that tell many different kinds of stories about a particular cultural community.

By the end of our discussion the students had the answer to their original question. They understood that history is how we make sense of our place in the world and it matters whose stories get told and how they are told.

They realized that #OwnVoices books portray the subtle nuances of a cultural community that other authors might miss or misinterpret — the day-to-day events and settings that keep pages turning.

The students left that morning knowing that Orange for the Sunsets only represents a small experience within my cultural community — one story. If we are to move away from simplistic stories that lead false perceptions, we need more #OwnVoices books.

Our underrepresented children and students need to know they matter, and what better way than to see themselves authentically within the pages they are reading?