We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Sarah Warren. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Sarah below.
Sarah, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today One of our favorite things to hear about is stories around the nicest thing someone has done for someone else – what’s the nicest thing someone has ever done for you?
As far as I can remember, the kindest person I ever met only said 4 words to me. And by “said,” I mean shouted. She shouted those words. She shouted them over and over again, and when I didn’t do what she wanted, she shouted them some more.
When we met, I was not happy. How could I be? I was starting 8th grade. I was in Wisconsin. I was the new kid. I was a mess.
I missed Minneapolis, where laughter and yelling and music and honking and sirens meant people were always nearby. Now I was surrounded by silent cornfields and, probably, murderers.
My parents only made things worse. For the first week of school, they swaddled my brother and me in orange for our walk down the gravel driveway to catch the bus. They knew there was a hunting season, but they didn’t know when it started or ended. Precautions had to be taken. We were two Black kids in a sea of blonds who all seemed to be named Erin. We already stuck out. Our blazing hats and jackets didn’t help matters one bit.
My only friends were the ladies in the basket weaving class at the retirement home where my mom worked. Every Thursday night we silently dipped our reeds into water until we could bend them into awkward rectangles without cracking the wood. I looked forward to those classes all week.
My mom got sick of me. She had to put a stop to those baskets. A year after our move, she discovered a children’s theater one town over. One Saturday she packed me into the car and we set off across the flat farmland toward Hudson. We parked in front of the theater’s grand, dramatic entrance and my mom told me to scoot. She’d pick me up after I auditioned for the upcoming children’s production. Audition? Me? Shaking with stage fright, I went inside. The director of the show, June Erdman, studied my sweaty, beet red face, saw a star in the making and cast me as a tree.
June Erdman directed plays at the Phipps Children’s Theater for 13 years. this is from her obituary in the Hudson Star Observer:
“June’s passion for theater and love of young people were what motivated her the most…She was known to double-cast most parts and do whatever was necessary to allow any and all interested youth the opportunity to experience the thrill of live theater. In 1980 the St. Paul Pioneer Press dubbed her ‘The Pied Piper of Hudson.’
One of June’s favorite quotes was, ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ June will always be remembered as a good woman who did good things.”
We called her Big E because she was so short. By we, I mean I never did, at least not to her face, because she intimidated me into a panicked silence. The four words she shouted at me over and over from the back of the theater were, “Sarah, project your lines!” Not possible. Plopped around the Green Room with the other actors or goofing around in the dressing rooms, I felt loose and happy and more myself than I ever had before. But with Big E’s eyes on me, I forgot how arms were supposed to move. I couldn’t stop pulling at the bottom of my shirt. Project my lines? I could barely move my lips! She cast me in every play.
I got a pretty big shock at Big E’s funeral in 2007. Chatting with old theater buddies about jobs and families and all the grown-up things we were up to, I realized that hardly any us were movie stars. It just didn’t make any sense. Hadn’t we gotten standing ovations from audiences packed with our parents and grandparents?
Looking around, I realized that Big E didn’t cast us because she saw a bunch of potential Carol Burnetts and Morgan Freemans. I think she saw our potential to be creative human beings. She believed it until we believed it and she believed it out loud and in public. She turned on our lights. She gave us a safe place to shine. Big E’s relentless belief in my ability to project myself into this world was the kindest, scariest encouragement I’ve ever had.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I write picture books. Most of my stories are about real-life heroes who use their everyday powers to change the world. I’ve written biographies about Stacey Abrams, Dolores Huerta, Beyoncé, Misty Copeland, Maya Angelou, Majora Carter, and Marla Spivak.
My first work of fiction came out this spring. Everything a Drum features a toddler who turns everything within reach into a drum. I’d tell you it’s based on a true story, but my 6-year-old might sue me for slander.
Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?
I started facilitating story times at Moon Palace Books as a Minnesota State Arts Board community engagement activity in 2018. Story times allowed me to connect with a new audience and to add value to an outstanding bookstore. In 2021, I transitioned to online story times. It became clear, however, that families were exhausted with Zoom. I decided to find a way to create safe, in-person opportunities for artists to share their work. With support from the library and fellow kid’s lit author Catherine Urdahl, I learned how to produce “story strolls,” picture books printed onto signs that allow readers to tour stories at a safe distance. With permission from publishers–and in partnership with 25 MN authors, the Midtown Farmers Market, and Moon Palace Books—Cathy and I offered a story stroll every Saturday for families to enjoy as they entered the market. We also hosted a Little Free Library at our author table so families could meet featured artists and pick up a free book. Kids returned weekly for new books and families donated as many books as we could hand out. It was truly a community effort.
We are now in our 3rd year at the Midtown Farmers Market. Cathy and I also host a picture book exhibit at the airport. We’ve turned our community project into an LLC. We hope to create more literary landscapes where imaginations can roam free! We want to turn everyday errands into opportunities for families to enjoy MN-made books. Our exhibits are welcoming, judgement-free events where active kids can read on-the-go and young dreamers can meet artists who live in our community.
What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?
I think we can help artists have a better sense of what they are getting into by dispelling the myth that our work can and will happen in isolation. As a writer, I thought I’d live a lonely, private life. Nope. Most of my best work happens in front of large crowds of young children. I use my books as jumping-off points to get into big conversations about identity and purpose during virtual and in-person author visits across the country. I also spend a LOT of time in community, connecting with young people and other artists.
Contact Info:
- Website: sarahwbooks.com picturebookparade.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sarahelizwarren/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sarahelizwarren
- Twitter: @sarahelizwarren