Gender and Race in Kidlit

I've been thinking about gender and race in kidlit. I was reading another blog about the lack of diverse race in some genres (notably sci fi, apparently) and thinking about my own writing. Another blogger posted about race in writing, and about having the courage, if you are "white," to write about other races and possibly screw it up, but do it anyway.
I was thinking about my own writing and how I may be (inadvertantly) contributing to the problem. What I'm saying is that none of my major human characters is anything but white. This does not stem from a desire to have a "white" world, at all. This stems from my deep fear that if I tried to put minority characters in my stories, that they would wind up "white" with dark skin. And that I will be blamed for getting it wrong. Is this enough excuse? Should I do it anyway? I am not interested in writing books about race. But even if the book is about pffffffff..... say, eggbeaters, why can't some of the characters be other races besides white? Well, they are, but only minor characters. I'm still thinking about this.

To be honest, part of the problem that the majority of characters being "white" seems to be the distribution of authors. No one complains that Toni Morrison and Alice Walker write almost entirely using African American characters. And duh, why should they? It seem to me, the world needs more writers that aren't white. Yes, yes, the rest of us should also try to reflect the races of the world more accurately, but some of us are chicken. I feel like the pressure to do that perfectly if I do it at all is more than I can cope with.

But what about gender in picture books? Is male still the 'unmarked' gender? I realise that my default setting for anthropomorphic characters is male. So male equals neuter? Something like that. But this won't change unless we allow some of our characters to be marked for a while, until there is enough of a mix for long enough that it becomes normal.

Hmmmm... This post has come out a bit jumbled. I am going to have to think about this a bit more...

Doubts.

My follow through is very poor. I have had this epiphany, you see. I get praise from my teachers for the bits and scenes I hand in as the answers to writing exercises, and if I do say so myself, they are pretty good. But it all seems to fall apart when I try to make something longer. Like, say, a plot. I can make characters. Description that blends in naturally and logically- what I mean is, there isn't really any; I just tell people what they need to know, and nothing they don't need to know. Dialogue? No problem.
But then something needs to happen. The characters need to change somehow. Grow. Fight. Why can't I do that? It makes me feel so short sighted and makes me wonder if I have some fundamental character flaw that stops me being able to imagine these complex interactions and their outcomes. Or I can think of just enough action to sustain a scene, but I can't hook them up together. Is my brain as tiny as it's beginning to feel?
Am I the only one with this problem?
Am I the only one reading this blog?

Plugging Along.

Ha! Fooled you. No, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. I have survived a whole year since we lost our boy.
The writing class. Well, my first impression is that the teacher is drinking heavily, or not getting enough sleep, or something. She doesn't proofread, that's for certain. The missing words and punctuation and the fact that she tends to wander off and not finish her sentences make her entries hard to follow.
All the same, her comments on the first week's assignment were useful. The ending was cheap. She was right. But the comments on the second assignment ranged from 'it was great' to 'this is why it was great.' A good start, but it doesn't give me anything to work with.
I feel so stuck! As if all my writing reaches exactly the same level of development and sophistication and then stops. All of the students and teachers and critique groups don't seem to be able to help me. The inexperienced among them give strange or even contradictory advice (one says 'cut this bit; it's irrelevent,' and another says 'this bit's important; expand on it!') or worse yet just say 'it's perfect, I don't see anything wrong with it.' The more experienced also see where the weak spots are, but can't seem to offer any advice on how to fix it. At first I was excited that we were finally going to have a SCBWI meeting (after nearly THREE YEARS as a member) but I'm not sure how good the turnout will be. Still, I will make the most of it.

Long, long winter.

There has been snow and ice around since October. This is pretty rare. I think the birds are suffering. I think I'm suffering too. I am putting a lot of energy into struggling with the schools. the Evil Boy still hits my daughter. Today he poked her with a pencil in the thigh and it looks like the tip broke off. The teacher has decided that on Friday we will have another "talk."

I hate this. I hate the implication that my daughter in any way shares the responsibility for what is happening. She avoids him, tries not to look at him, and has trained herself not to react when he pokes and hits her. And still "let's talk about it." No, let's get this boy some real parents!

Ok, end of rant.

So, in order to combat stress and spring boredom, I have signed up for a class in children's writing with Gotham for this spring. Wish me luck.

A lack of punctation.

Will I ever get my period again, I wonder? We complain so much about them when they are here, but we miss them when they are gone. Periods help us punctuate, divide up and file bits of time. My temporal memory was always bizarre and cloudy, but now it's worse. No system to it at all. And since I don't seem to be ovulating, that means no baby, and then what? I have this mass of time stretching out ahead of me with no periods, commas or exclamation points.

And absolutely no belief in myself that I will ever accomplish anything. I'm floundering, as you see...

still empty.

I think boredom is probably just about the most dangerous thing in the universe. And I'm soooooooooooooooooo bored. I get fantasies about pulling up the floorboards just for the heck of it. And my brain says pick a direction, any direction.

I didn't go the the memorial service. I went to the Kunstmuseum instead. We saw Ego Documents. Do egos die if you don't take care of them, I wonder?

What Next

I was hoping to post at least once a month, but I'm not quite making it. Sometimes, there just doesn't seem to be anything to add. I haven't been writing much, and my drawings in protrait class are all wrong. I don't know why. Well, surely, lack of practice. But in spite of a great teacher, I just don't seem to be getting anywhere, which is frustrating. Imparo anche Italiano. Or maybe Anche imparo Italiano. Anyway, I am learning Italian, which is fun. But what? I still spend a large part of my day wading through a house full of stuff which has nothing to do with me, and I resent. I don't resent the ironing or the laundry or the shopping. I resent having to play policeman to the mess, too. "Please pick that up. Please don't leave that in the floor. Put them away, don't just shove them in a drawer." Don't become a full time housewife. Just don't. Fight for your life against it. I have never experienced anything more damaging to my sense of self worth.

And children? Babies? There is a service at the Heiliggeist Church in Bern for all people like me who have lost a child they haven't even met yet. I cannot decide if it would be a good thing to go or not.

But.
If I ever get pregnant again, I will buy my prenatel vitamins one pill at a time, and I won't tell anybody but my gynecologist that I'm pregnant until I'm in labor.