Meanwhile, Marlena had been working on the cover art. We had sent her images Traci had taken while in CTGRC so that she could incorporate the proper cultural elements onto the cover. Marlena had also been very clear about what she thought of the story and what she thought it needed for the greater Native community. Her voice was welcome.
Soon Traci, Stacy, and I were in final edits of the manuscript. We debated some on what was needed to flesh out the last details, taking the time to do so, not only because that’s what birthing a novel is like, but because we had an additional challenge. We couldn’t just call Charlene up and ask, “What did you mean by this?” or “What would you like to do?” So what was right? Was it just anyone’s guess? In the end, we came to some wonderful, simple solutions.
Again, this draft of the manuscript would not be the last. It would need to go back to CTGRC. There was no way we would move forward without their cultural advisors’ check on what was written. It had to be absolutely culturally correct. It would also go to an African American reader to check our African American characters’ truths and authenticity.
Meanwhile, Stacy, Marlena, and I were going through several renditions of the cover. How would we create something completely Native, honor everyone involved, and still fit today’s predominantly white cultural idea of “what sells” as far as book covers go? We needed to honor the artist, CTGRC, Umpqua culture, and the story — plus market it in a way that made non-Native and Native readers alike want to buy it. Not easy. And it wasn’t. But in the end, we succeeded. Marlena created beautiful, authentic art for the cover. If you look at the trees and mountains, you will see Native symbols from CTGRC. The trees have symbols meaning “fingers and hands,” and the mountains have symbols meaning “fishing spears.” We sent the art to CTGRC. All was good.
Now we had everything, and our amazing book designer began assembling our work. We still had to go through the process of copyediting, of interior page design, of marketing, of advanced reading copies, of getting this book into readers’ hands. But we could breathe now. We had done it the Native way. We had done our absolute best to honor that big paragraph of people I wrote about earlier in this note.
We were given a microphone. I hope we used it well.
Working as an editor for Indian No More has been a sacred journey. I am truly grateful for every single person who stood with me and walked with me through this process. I am grateful to Stacy Whitman, publisher of Tu Books, who entrusted me with this beautiful project. I am grateful to Jason Low, Cheryl Klein, and Hannah Ehrlich at Lee & Low Books, who generously gave of their time and expertise. Lee & Low and Tu Books continue to make it part of their mission to find and publish Native American stories — and kidlit is better for it.
I am grateful to Charlene’s friends who shared their time with me: Sarah Rosenthal, Kathy Quimby Johnson, Sean Anderson, Kate Ross, and elders Patty Manning (Abenaki), Jeanne A. Brink and her husband (Abenaki), and Laura Callahan (Shoshone). I am grateful to The Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde Community, and especially David Harrelson and his team.
I am grateful to Roger McManis, Charlene’s husband, and their daughter Sarah for being our touchstone to Charlene whenever we needed it. I am also grateful to Traci, my fellow Cherokee, and an amazing force of a writer, who held steadfast in authenticity with every beautiful word.
I am grateful to my own family and friends who read drafts and gave notes, especially my Cherokee mother and grandmother, Liz Mullen and Sarah Burchardt, my sister Margaret Wood, and Jenna Boatman, who all have been cheering this project on as we walked the journey. I am grateful for my husband, Lenny Ciotti, who always whispered in my ear, “You can do this.”
And finally, I am grateful for Charlene. Thank you, Charlene, for this story and for your Umpqua heart. Wado.
—Elise McMullen-Ciotti
THE BEAVER AND THE COYOTE
There once was a beaver that lived in a simple pond. Even though it was simple, Beaver thought his home was perfect.
One day, Coyote came and said, “Beaver, I know of a better pond where the water is so clear, you can see the bottom. There are many plants. More than you can possibly eat. I can take you to it if you want me to.”
Beaver’s wife told him, “Do not go with Coyote. Our home is perfect for us.” But Beaver followed Coyote to see this more perfect place, past the mountains and valleys. Past the hills and rocks. So far did Beaver walk that he couldn’t remember where his home was. At that moment, Coyote turned to eat Beaver. But Beaver dug a river up from the ground and swam quickly away. Beaver got away from Coyote, but now he didn’t know where he was. He searched everywhere for his simple pond. And to this day, beavers move from pond to pond, trying to find that perfect home that was left behind.
OUR AUTHORS
The late CHARLENE WILLING MCMANIS (1953-2018) was born in Portland, Oregon and grew up in Los Angeles. She was of Umpqua tribal heritage and enrolled in The Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde. Charlene served
