Wilma (00:01):
My light lives in ink-stained hands, in words that bleed quietly onto paper so my heart doesn't have to.
Victoria (00:09):
Every night you became my religion and I sacrificed myself to you every time, like you were God in need of satisfaction.
Jordan (00:17):
I thought by this age I'd have everything figured out. Instead, I have apps -- apps that track my sleep, my steps, and my spending. Still not one single app that tells me if my parents are doing fine.
Moriah (00:30):
Being me meant being so observant that it felt suffocating just being myself.
Malikye (00:36):
He was patient with us. He was kind and held us accountable and helped us not only become better basketball players, but helped us be who we are today.
Laura Maylene Walter (00:48):
Welcome to Page Count, presented by the Ohio Center for the Book at Cleveland Public Library. This podcast celebrates authors, illustrators, librarians, booksellers, literary advocates, and readers in and from the state of Ohio. I'm your host, Laura Maylene Walter, the Ohio Center for the Book Fellow and author of the novel, BODY OF STARS. Listeners, you're in for a treat today, as five young writers who perhaps represent the future of Cleveland's literary scene take over the podcast. The work shared here will be published in Lake Erie Ink's annual Teen Book, an anthology featuring writing and art by teens across Northeast Ohio. Student editors meet weekly throughout the year to manage all aspects of the publication, from creating the theme and prompts, to designing the flyers, reading and responding to pieces, editing, proofreading, promoting the book, working with a cover artist, and planning the launch party. More on that in a minute. The book also includes work from Writers in Residence, an organization that works with Northeast Ohio teens serving in juvenile detention. This year marks the 10th annual Teen Book put out by Lake Erie Ink. The theme is "Lights, Camera, Action," in which the contributing writers, artists, and editors contemplate the nature and effect of their online lives. The poems and story excerpts that you're about to hear touch on grief, humor, friendship, persistence, identity, and more. Enjoy.
Moriah (02:24):
Hello, my name is Moriah. I'm in 9th grade, and the title of my poem is "Being Me." This piece is about how observant I was growing up, and how it helped but also hurt me. "When I was a child, I always noticed the small things that most would overlook, like the small nail marks on Miss Emily's whiteboard, or the raindrop sliding down the window after it sprinkled. The way the teacher Miss Emily yawns after she doesn't drink her morning coffee, or the way my classmates try to hide their smiley stickers under the desk that they got from being good, which I always thought was ironic. When I entered high school, I realized being me wasn't as easy as it seemed, because being me and noticing the way people giggled under their breaths when you trip over your own shoelaces, or the way people look at their friends and try to hold back their laughter whenever you spoke, even though nothing's funny. The way I waited until the bell to use the restroom because I thought it would be too embarrassing walking past the class. Being me meant being so observant that it felt suffocating just being myself. Being me meant saying a thought over and over in your head before saying it out loud. Being me meant letting my own thoughts consume myself until I couldn't breathe. Being me is not as easy as it seems."
Malikye (03:37):
My name is Malikye Petrich. I'm in 10th grade. The title of my story is, "Not Another Day Is Promised." This story is about the sudden death of my middle school basketball coach. "On a nice, hot, sunny Tuesday morning, I woke up and immediately knew I should go play some basketball in my driveway. I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and then headed out the door. I grabbed the ball out of the yard from where I left it the night before and wiped off the morning dew. I could just feel today's practice would some day pay off, and I knew I would get better. I walked onto the hoops middle ring, shifted to the side, and began working on my form. After a few minutes, I backed up and worked on my long range game. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy pedaling his bike and as he got closer, I realized it was my coach. 'Hey, Coach Brown.' Coach Brown was my seventh- and eighth-grade basketball coach, and everyone loved him, including me. He was patient with us. He was kind, and he held us accountable and helped us not only become better basketball players, but helped us be who we are today. He quickly said good morning back to me, and we instantly started talking about ways I can improve my game. He put his foot down and leaned to the side, and unexpectedly, he looked right at me and said, 'Malikye, you're a really good man.' I was confused, and he had never said anything like that to me. I felt shocked and surprised, but I also felt proud that he could see me this way, and I thanked him for his kind words and he told me to focus on my fundamentals, and we both started laughing, and he told me the wild want-to-be NBA moves I was trying was not going to benefit me. I said goodbye, and he pedaled away on his bike. I watched him ride his bike as the sun made funny patterns on his back, and the shiny, silver bike started to swerve as hard as steel. He fell off his bike."
Victoria (05:26):
My name is Victoria Adobamen and I'm in the 11th grade. The title of my poem is "Memoirs of a Human Diary," and this piece is about being a friend that's only used for trauma dumping. "I remember the day your father died. You bawled your eyes out onto my shirt, the type of sorrow no one could hide. But what you didn't seem to realize was that even paper has its breaking point. Every night you became my religion, and I sacrificed myself to you every time like you were a god in need of satisfaction. But what you didn't seem to realize was that leather spines could break too. You wrote your troubles into my skin until I was nothing but an inky page, like the diary your father gave all his kin. But what you didn't seem to realize was that pages tear from too much ink. Your sorrows rained upon me with no remorse, yet I drank and drank 'til I could no more. That didn't stop your downpours, but what you were too late to realize was that diaries can drown."
Jordan (06:24):
My name is Jordan. I'm in 10th grade. The title of my poem is, "Soft Things Glow at Night." This piece is about no matter how hard life hits you down, you always have to get back up and keep pushing through life, no matter what happens. "Soft Things Glow at Night," by Jordan Bowersox. "Hi, everyone. Yeah, that pause, that pause right there, that was basically my whole life. People say, 'Tell us some stuff about yourself,' and I'm like, which version of myself? The one who has dreams, or the one who googles a cereal dinner? I thought by this age, I'd have everything figured out. Instead, I have apps -- apps that track my sleep, my steps, and my spending. Still not one single app that tells me if my parents are doing fine. I used to think all adults knew what they were doing. Then, I finally realized we're all just some kids with back pain and opinion about coffee. Everyone says, 'Follow your passion.' Okay, but my passion changes every three days. Monday, I'm gonna be rich. Tuesday, I'm gonna start a podcast. Wednesday, I'm tired and need a nap I'll never financially recover from. My life is basically a loading screen. No instructions, no tutorial, just vibes and anxiety. But hey, I'm still here. I showed up. I put on pants with buttons, and honestly, that's a win. Take a drink of water as the spotlight fades."
Wilma (07:48):
My name is Wilma Dufford. I'm in 10th grade. The title of my poem is, "Where I Find My Light." This poem is about finding light in the darkest of tunnels. "I don't find my light where people tell me to look -- not in the perfect moments or the easy answers. I find it in the pause before I break after all the stress, in the breath I take when the depression is too strong, when giving up would just be easier. My light lives in ink-stained hands, in words that bleed quietly onto paper so my heart doesn't have to. It flickers in survival, not in sparkle, and choosing to stay soft in a cruel world that tried to harden me. I find my light in the fact that I'm still here, still feeling, still hoping, even carefully. It isn't loud, it doesn't blind, but it's mine, and that's enough for me to keep going."
Laura Maylene Walter (08:49):
The book launch for LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION will be held Tuesday, May 19th at 6:00 p.m. at the MLK Branch of Cleveland Public Library, and will feature contributor readings and light refreshments. All are welcome. The anthology can be purchased at the book launch, at local bookstores, including Mac's Backs, Visible Voice, and Loganberry, or by contacting Lake Erie Ink directly. See our show notes for details, including ways teens can get involved with Lake Erie Ink's many offerings.
Laura Maylene Walter (09:17):
I'll leave you with this message from Amy Hughes, a teaching artist at Lake Erie Ink, who had this to say about the anthology and the teens who made it happen: "I always say that if you are feeling hopeless about the world and its future, you aren't spending enough time around teenagers. They have so much more wisdom and compassion and thoughtfulness than we give them credit for, and one thing I love about this project is the opportunity to bring their voices and stories out into the world. I believe the future is in very good hands, and every year the Teen Book Project reaffirms that for me." Thank you to the young writers who recorded themselves and shared their work with Page Count. Thanks to Amy Hughes and Lake Erie Ink. Congrats to the writers, artists, and editors involved with the Teen Book, and everyone, go read LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION.
Laura Maylene Walter (10:10):
Page Count is presented by the Ohio Center for the Book at Cleveland Public Library. If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe, rate, and leave a review for Page Count wherever you get your podcasts. Learn more online, or find the edited transcript for this episode at cpl.org/podcast/page-count. Follow us on Instagram @OhioCenter fortheBook, or find us on Facebook. If you'd like to get in touch, email ohiocenterforthebook@cpl.org, and put "podcast" in the subject line. Thanks for listening, and we'll be back in two weeks for another chapter of Page Count.
My light lives in ink-stained hands, in words that bleed quietly onto paper so my heart doesn't have to.
Victoria (00:09):
Every night you became my religion and I sacrificed myself to you every time, like you were God in need of satisfaction.
Jordan (00:17):
I thought by this age I'd have everything figured out. Instead, I have apps -- apps that track my sleep, my steps, and my spending. Still not one single app that tells me if my parents are doing fine.
Moriah (00:30):
Being me meant being so observant that it felt suffocating just being myself.
Malikye (00:36):
He was patient with us. He was kind and held us accountable and helped us not only become better basketball players, but helped us be who we are today.
Laura Maylene Walter (00:48):
Welcome to Page Count, presented by the Ohio Center for the Book at Cleveland Public Library. This podcast celebrates authors, illustrators, librarians, booksellers, literary advocates, and readers in and from the state of Ohio. I'm your host, Laura Maylene Walter, the Ohio Center for the Book Fellow and author of the novel, BODY OF STARS. Listeners, you're in for a treat today, as five young writers who perhaps represent the future of Cleveland's literary scene take over the podcast. The work shared here will be published in Lake Erie Ink's annual Teen Book, an anthology featuring writing and art by teens across Northeast Ohio. Student editors meet weekly throughout the year to manage all aspects of the publication, from creating the theme and prompts, to designing the flyers, reading and responding to pieces, editing, proofreading, promoting the book, working with a cover artist, and planning the launch party. More on that in a minute. The book also includes work from Writers in Residence, an organization that works with Northeast Ohio teens serving in juvenile detention. This year marks the 10th annual Teen Book put out by Lake Erie Ink. The theme is "Lights, Camera, Action," in which the contributing writers, artists, and editors contemplate the nature and effect of their online lives. The poems and story excerpts that you're about to hear touch on grief, humor, friendship, persistence, identity, and more. Enjoy.
Moriah (02:24):
Hello, my name is Moriah. I'm in 9th grade, and the title of my poem is "Being Me." This piece is about how observant I was growing up, and how it helped but also hurt me. "When I was a child, I always noticed the small things that most would overlook, like the small nail marks on Miss Emily's whiteboard, or the raindrop sliding down the window after it sprinkled. The way the teacher Miss Emily yawns after she doesn't drink her morning coffee, or the way my classmates try to hide their smiley stickers under the desk that they got from being good, which I always thought was ironic. When I entered high school, I realized being me wasn't as easy as it seemed, because being me and noticing the way people giggled under their breaths when you trip over your own shoelaces, or the way people look at their friends and try to hold back their laughter whenever you spoke, even though nothing's funny. The way I waited until the bell to use the restroom because I thought it would be too embarrassing walking past the class. Being me meant being so observant that it felt suffocating just being myself. Being me meant saying a thought over and over in your head before saying it out loud. Being me meant letting my own thoughts consume myself until I couldn't breathe. Being me is not as easy as it seems."
Malikye (03:37):
My name is Malikye Petrich. I'm in 10th grade. The title of my story is, "Not Another Day Is Promised." This story is about the sudden death of my middle school basketball coach. "On a nice, hot, sunny Tuesday morning, I woke up and immediately knew I should go play some basketball in my driveway. I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and then headed out the door. I grabbed the ball out of the yard from where I left it the night before and wiped off the morning dew. I could just feel today's practice would some day pay off, and I knew I would get better. I walked onto the hoops middle ring, shifted to the side, and began working on my form. After a few minutes, I backed up and worked on my long range game. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy pedaling his bike and as he got closer, I realized it was my coach. 'Hey, Coach Brown.' Coach Brown was my seventh- and eighth-grade basketball coach, and everyone loved him, including me. He was patient with us. He was kind, and he held us accountable and helped us not only become better basketball players, but helped us be who we are today. He quickly said good morning back to me, and we instantly started talking about ways I can improve my game. He put his foot down and leaned to the side, and unexpectedly, he looked right at me and said, 'Malikye, you're a really good man.' I was confused, and he had never said anything like that to me. I felt shocked and surprised, but I also felt proud that he could see me this way, and I thanked him for his kind words and he told me to focus on my fundamentals, and we both started laughing, and he told me the wild want-to-be NBA moves I was trying was not going to benefit me. I said goodbye, and he pedaled away on his bike. I watched him ride his bike as the sun made funny patterns on his back, and the shiny, silver bike started to swerve as hard as steel. He fell off his bike."
Victoria (05:26):
My name is Victoria Adobamen and I'm in the 11th grade. The title of my poem is "Memoirs of a Human Diary," and this piece is about being a friend that's only used for trauma dumping. "I remember the day your father died. You bawled your eyes out onto my shirt, the type of sorrow no one could hide. But what you didn't seem to realize was that even paper has its breaking point. Every night you became my religion, and I sacrificed myself to you every time like you were a god in need of satisfaction. But what you didn't seem to realize was that leather spines could break too. You wrote your troubles into my skin until I was nothing but an inky page, like the diary your father gave all his kin. But what you didn't seem to realize was that pages tear from too much ink. Your sorrows rained upon me with no remorse, yet I drank and drank 'til I could no more. That didn't stop your downpours, but what you were too late to realize was that diaries can drown."
Jordan (06:24):
My name is Jordan. I'm in 10th grade. The title of my poem is, "Soft Things Glow at Night." This piece is about no matter how hard life hits you down, you always have to get back up and keep pushing through life, no matter what happens. "Soft Things Glow at Night," by Jordan Bowersox. "Hi, everyone. Yeah, that pause, that pause right there, that was basically my whole life. People say, 'Tell us some stuff about yourself,' and I'm like, which version of myself? The one who has dreams, or the one who googles a cereal dinner? I thought by this age, I'd have everything figured out. Instead, I have apps -- apps that track my sleep, my steps, and my spending. Still not one single app that tells me if my parents are doing fine. I used to think all adults knew what they were doing. Then, I finally realized we're all just some kids with back pain and opinion about coffee. Everyone says, 'Follow your passion.' Okay, but my passion changes every three days. Monday, I'm gonna be rich. Tuesday, I'm gonna start a podcast. Wednesday, I'm tired and need a nap I'll never financially recover from. My life is basically a loading screen. No instructions, no tutorial, just vibes and anxiety. But hey, I'm still here. I showed up. I put on pants with buttons, and honestly, that's a win. Take a drink of water as the spotlight fades."
Wilma (07:48):
My name is Wilma Dufford. I'm in 10th grade. The title of my poem is, "Where I Find My Light." This poem is about finding light in the darkest of tunnels. "I don't find my light where people tell me to look -- not in the perfect moments or the easy answers. I find it in the pause before I break after all the stress, in the breath I take when the depression is too strong, when giving up would just be easier. My light lives in ink-stained hands, in words that bleed quietly onto paper so my heart doesn't have to. It flickers in survival, not in sparkle, and choosing to stay soft in a cruel world that tried to harden me. I find my light in the fact that I'm still here, still feeling, still hoping, even carefully. It isn't loud, it doesn't blind, but it's mine, and that's enough for me to keep going."
Laura Maylene Walter (08:49):
The book launch for LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION will be held Tuesday, May 19th at 6:00 p.m. at the MLK Branch of Cleveland Public Library, and will feature contributor readings and light refreshments. All are welcome. The anthology can be purchased at the book launch, at local bookstores, including Mac's Backs, Visible Voice, and Loganberry, or by contacting Lake Erie Ink directly. See our show notes for details, including ways teens can get involved with Lake Erie Ink's many offerings.
Laura Maylene Walter (09:17):
I'll leave you with this message from Amy Hughes, a teaching artist at Lake Erie Ink, who had this to say about the anthology and the teens who made it happen: "I always say that if you are feeling hopeless about the world and its future, you aren't spending enough time around teenagers. They have so much more wisdom and compassion and thoughtfulness than we give them credit for, and one thing I love about this project is the opportunity to bring their voices and stories out into the world. I believe the future is in very good hands, and every year the Teen Book Project reaffirms that for me." Thank you to the young writers who recorded themselves and shared their work with Page Count. Thanks to Amy Hughes and Lake Erie Ink. Congrats to the writers, artists, and editors involved with the Teen Book, and everyone, go read LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION.
Laura Maylene Walter (10:10):
Page Count is presented by the Ohio Center for the Book at Cleveland Public Library. If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe, rate, and leave a review for Page Count wherever you get your podcasts. Learn more online, or find the edited transcript for this episode at cpl.org/podcast/page-count. Follow us on Instagram @OhioCenter fortheBook, or find us on Facebook. If you'd like to get in touch, email ohiocenterforthebook@cpl.org, and put "podcast" in the subject line. Thanks for listening, and we'll be back in two weeks for another chapter of Page Count.
