What it’s like to live in Minnesota in January 2026

Posted on January 31, 2026 by kirstincm

Prayer to St Rage (a semi-true story)

I was unaware, St Rage,

but the sign stopped me cold.

When I called the number

they said they were a muffler shop.

I said, her name is on your sign.

They said some letters fell off.

But I saw the sign, I said.

I know she’s here with us.


You’re the right saint for now, St Rage,

the most perfect one

for knowing babies breathed tear gas,

wore bunny hats as they disappeared,

for watching people murdered for words

and helping others,

for seeing neighbors stolen, beaten,

doors broken down, elders taken

in bathrobes, for realizing cruelty

is their actual, measurable goal.

We both know they have quotas.


What do we do, St Rage,

O Mother of mothers

who are incandescently wrathful? Lead us

with your power and holy warming fires.

Bring us money so we can bring food.

Uncover our strength to observe and document.

Find us justice, find us peace, find us rides

for kids to and from school, for parents

to the doctor, to the store. Find us sanctuary

so we can share it, open our doors.


O St Rage, keep our hearts pure

and our anger righteous. Keep our eyes

full of milk to wash away the sting.

Let us march. Let us melt their resolve.

Let our might be directed

to those with cruel, broken hearts,

their trauma asking them to harm us,

I ask you to stand in their way.

St. Rage, I turn my cheek

from kindness, I want to hate

and punch their faces, but I don’t.

Calm resistance feels hollow,

but You must have a purpose.

Lead us in the way of Your plan.

Deliver us out of their darkness.


The muffler shop hung up but thanked me

for praying with them.

St Rage, keep us safe,

keep us holy in community,

keep us furious.

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That neurodivergent urge . . .

Posted on March 29, 2025 by kirstincm

. . . and there are a zillion (including painting old pay phones, thanks NOLA), but here’s one that’s close to my heart: the urge to share something you love.

So much of my work is about this desire, sharing things I love with students, family and friends, and readers. My books are about important shit (to me): teenagers, finding yourself, art, music, nature, being kind to others, finding the good in the world. My classes? Also full of important shit (to me): stories, historically excluded humans, critical thinking, how to write a solid argument, being curious rather than judgmental, seeing the world as a both/and.

Does my love make these things important to others? Of course not. But that’s what happens when you put stuff into the world: some people are gonna reject you. You gotta get used to it.

One neurodivergent person who did this well (and faced understandable backlash) is Luke Combs (maybe you didn’t know he was ND, but yup). When my son played me Combs’ version of “Fast Car,” I was really glad he was driving and I was in the backseat, because I quietly sobbed. Tracy Chapman’s song came out the spring of my freshman year in college, and I wore out my tape of that album in the summer, driving all around Nebraska. I was NOT happy a white man co-opted the song, but his version still hammered my heart.

Then I found out WHY he recorded it: he and his parents used to listen to Chapman’s album, and “it was my favorite song before I knew what a favorite song was,” so he wanted to SHARE IT, because he LOVES IT. So he approached Tracy Chapman, she allowed him to license it, and then they did the most amazing duet imaginable at the 2024 Grammys, which you should watch if you haven’t.

Despite the public’s important (and correct) hesitation about a white man recording a Black woman’s iconic song, he stuck to it, and I’m so glad. He helps me believe it’s okay to do the same.

ETA: in an April 2025 interview with the NYT, Tracy Chapman says she was weepy for weeks over the Grammy performance, partly because she had people from her original album around her when they rehearsed for it, but partly because she knew how well the duet was received by the audience. HA. All the tears I’ve cried over it? I feel okay about them if she was also weepy. : ) It was literally that good.

(Side note: here are two other things I love: street art and stickers.)

Thanks, Luke Combs, for sharing what you love with us. I needed this song in my life again, and I need this duet. I need to see successful neurodivergent people. I need to feel less alone.

Posted in gratitude, love, music, Uncategorized, writing life | Tagged | 66 Comments

Win an ARC of RULES FOR CAMOUFLAGE!

Posted on March 24, 2024 by kirstincm

WOO HOO! Want to win an Advanced Reader Copy? Head over to Goodreads and check the giveaway! It runs until April 21st.

I can’t wait for you to meet Evvie, Blue, and Aretha–all of whom are on the cover. : )

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The second regret and how to live with the both/and

Posted on October 11, 2022 by kirstincm

Students sign the posters for GENDER IS LIKE AN OCEAN, a film by Addressing Injustices at the University of Toronto, June 2018. BMUC was part of the film. It was a proud moment. Find more here.

A few blog posts previous to this one, I said I had one regret in my publishing life, that I hadn’t been a good book citizen. That’s still true. But I have one other regret, and that regret is ten years old this month.

It’s taken me a while to sort out how to talk about this situation, but I’ve finally settled on the both/and comparison (rather than the either/or). It’s one I teach my students—something can be simultaneously positive and shitty, all at the same time.

My both/and regret? My second novel.

Ten years ago, the publishing world let me, a cisgender woman, speak in the voice of a young trans man, and BEAUTIFUL MUSIC FOR UGLY CHILDREN was released. It did some good in the world, got some attention, and remains in print There wasn’t much trans representation in YA fiction then, so that helped Flux’s decision to publish it. But was it the right decision?

I’m proud of this book’s work, AND I would never write this book again. Yes, writers can create any character they want, and yes, I did years of research, and yes, many trans individuals assisted me, AND it still feels improper and wrong that I spoke in the voice of someone whose identity I don’t share. Trans people have told me how much this book means to them AND trans people have said BMUC is harmful appropriation. Yes to it all.

I make these judgments from a place of some understanding: about seven years ago I discovered my neurodivergence. Would I want a neurotypical person writing a first-person story about my experiences? No, probably not. Or they’d have to do a damn excellent job, and I’d be skeptical AF of their book, plus I’d make side eyes at them, and be crabby for a long time. Neurotypicals dictate enough of my life—do I really want then writing my fiction, too? Grrrrrr. No thank you.

I rest my case.

But BEAUTIFUL MUSIC exists, in all its both/and glory, and Gabe is the character who feels most like a relative, so my decision is to do for him what I do for my own kid—support the hell out of him and his community. Since before the book was published, I’ve given the trans community my time and money, and this month there was extra for RECLAIM!, because their founders helped me write BEAUTIFUL MUSIC. I also use my voice and feet as often as there’s a need. Aside from the book, my solidarity with the trans community is a permanent part of my life because this community taught me it’s okay to be myself. I owe them much more than I can repay.

So, happy ten-year book birthday to my both/and regret. Gabe is tucked deep in my heart, and I’m proud of him and John. I’m proud of their journey. And I regret the appropriation that sent them on their way.

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Two words: THANK YOU

Posted on December 4, 2021 by kirstincm

Kirstin Cronn-Mills is a fiscal year 2021 recipient of a Creative Support for Individuals grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. This activity is made possible by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Minnesota States Arts Board, thanks to a legislative appropriation by the Minnesota State Legislature, and by a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Thank you, Minnesota State Arts Board and the National Endowment for the Arts, for supporting artists of all types.


And thank you, voters of Minnesota!
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Watch this space!

Posted on November 14, 2020 by kirstincm
Octo storage container, Maui, December 2019

With luck and love and some crossed fingers, there will be a new book soon. It’s called O IS FOR OUTSIDER. I have no idea if editors are buying books. Hopefully? We’ll find out.

This book is a little bit REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE (though Evvie has a LOT of causes) meets MY OCTOPUS TEACHER, which you should watch, if you haven’t. I know octopuses have been trendy over the last few years, but not in the way this book talks about them. I can promise you that.

Here’s a little octopus action from the Maui Ocean Center in 2019–that’s my hand. Otherworldly.

Can’t wait for you to meet Evvie, Blue, Ken, and Evvie’s favorite octopus, Aretha!

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Ten years, one regret

Posted on September 16, 2019 by kirstincm

16 years of work, 10 years in publishing.

 

Time goes amazingly fast, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s just me.

My first novel, The Sky Always Hears Me and the Hills Don’t Mind, came out in September 2009. My kid was 11. I’d been at my job for 10 years, married for 17.  The book is set in Nebraska, and I’d lived away from there for 17 years.

Now I have 4 published novels. My kid can legally drink in a bar, and he drives the car I was driving then. He’s lived in Italy twice. I’ve been at my job for 20 years. I’m in better shape. I have a different dog, plus 2 cats. I’m still married. My dad’s been gone for 8.5 years, my mother-in-law for almost 8 months. I won the Stonewall Award for my second novel. I’m working on my sixth. I found out I’m neurodiverse.  I’m an interfaith minister.

10 years is forever and no time, all at the same time. Life is the same, and it’s not. One thing that’s NEVER changed in these 10 years: my gratitude to be in 1) Minnesota’s writing community, and 2) the YA/kidlit community, especially in Minnesota. So many, many kind, generous, and talented writers in this dang state, and in our kidlit community, plus the nationwide kidlit folks–I’m so humbled to be a part of these crowds! I’m so lucky to live where I do! I will always be happy I married a Minnesotan and moved home with him.

Also (of course!): I’m grateful people read my books. Readers = BEST PEOPLE EVER. Thank you, readers! It’s a humbling thing, to have people interact with your art. I’m so glad the outsiders in my books have found homes in the hearts of others. Though I didn’t read the reviews (too hard on the soul), I noticed Wreck has 40 votes and 19 reviews on Goodreads, and Beautiful Music has 718 reviews, plus 6450 votes. For a tiny author like me, that’s AMAZING. I’m grateful I get to make art in the first place–writing these books has been so joyous!

Have I made mistakes in 10 ten years? OF COURSE. The internet doesn’t hide them.

Do I have any regrets? One major one: I haven’t been the book citizen I want to be. : (

Why should someone care about being a good book citizen? Because my writing life exists as part of a community,  a community I care about.

My deficits come from not spending more time on my writing career.  Because my full-time teaching job is so intense, writing is my (very slow) side hustle. The day job pays bills and gives me insurance, so I need it. But my writing life suffers. My lack of time spent on my career results in 1) less time spent practicing writing and producing work, AND MORE IMPORTANTLY ) 2) less time spent supporting my fellow writers.

I want to read their books! I want to cheer them on! I want to write blog posts about them. I want to spend time on social media, chatting about how I love these people. I want to go to conferences and talk their work up. I REALLY want to be a cheerleader for the writers who are providing mirrors and windows for kids of every kind, supporting young readers of all kinds in every way they can. I want to be a good colleague! And I haven’t been. I will do better.

In this next decade as a writer, I’ll spend more time in my book life. Less day job, more writing and supporting other writers. I’ve promised myself.  And my agent.

Ten years. Wild. I had no idea I could write novels. Then the real Tessa (from Sky) gave me the perfect idea for one. And here we are.

Posted in BEAUTIFUL MUSIC, books, emotions, epic-ness, gratitude, live and learn, Original Fake, privilege, readers, SKY ALWAYS HEARS ME, Uncategorized, WRECK, writing community, writing life, yawp | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

When art creates art, and YOU MEET THE ARTIST (omg!!)

Posted on July 8, 2019 by kirstincm

This is GORDON LIGHTFOOT, after I gave him a copy of WRECK!

This is GORDON LIGHTFOOT, after I gave him a copy of WRECK!

The album the song is on, newly autographed.

The album the song is on, newly autographed.

 

 

The title doesn’t make it clear, but the book does: the title of WRECK is inspired by “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” a song written and performed by Gordon Lightfoot in 1976, about the shipwreck of the ore boat Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior. The ship left from Duluth on November 9, 1975, and and sank the next day, close to Sault Ste. Marie, MI.

In the book, Steve saw the Edmund Fitzgerald leave Duluth. After the ship sank, he became obsessed with the song when it came out. After his daughter Tobin was born, the anniversary of the shipwreck was the day he would play the song as many times as she was old.

Music always inspires my writing. I could talk for days about the music in BEAUTIFUL MUSIC, there’s so much. ORIGINAL FAKE was inspired by the conceptual artists I was paying attention to in college–two of which are musicians David Byrne and Laurie Anderson.

So if you’re writing about Lake Superior, wouldn’t you want to include a song about the lake,  the only song that makes you physically cold, the song that could conceivably be a touchstone for someone who lives on Lake Superior, especially if he saw the actual ship?

Yeah, you would. Of course you would.

As fate would have it, and it does feel like fate, Gordon Lightfoot did a concert in my town in early June. My sweet and wonderful friend Rachael (see the album autograph above) suggested we go, and suggested I try to get a copy to him. And, through a new friend, some smooth talking, and probably a miracle that he wasn’t too tired after the show, I got to do just that.

It was AWESOOOOOOOOOOOOOME.

Also a bit dumbfounding.

Mr. Lightfoot (yes, I want to call him that, he’s Canadian royalty) seemed genuinely surprised and pleased a person would use his music as I did. His wife and his crew also seemed genuinely surprised, and they were very respectful of the book. They said they’d put it in a place of honor. And maybe that was bullshit, but I don’t think so.

Their surprise surprised me. Wouldn’t you think someone else would have given him a novel inspired by his music—in the course of a 60-year career?

Maybe not.

When he played “Wreck,” I sobbed, and Rachael patted my shoulder. I’m almost as attached to Tobin and Steve as I am to actual humans. The book is a long meditation on sorrow and grief, mine and theirs, and it was incredibly moving to hear him do the song live. It was heartbreaking and healing, all at the same time.

Maybe I’m just imagining things, but he seemed as appreciative of me as I was of him, which was unexpected and extraordinary.  It’s amazing the places our books go. Standing next to the 80-year-old Gordon Lightfoot is a place I never expected to be.

 

Posted in artists, characters, emotions, epic-ness, grief, music, November, small world, Uncategorized, writing life, yawp | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The . . . disrespectful? . . . launch of WRECK

Posted on April 16, 2019 by kirstincm

 

Look! Real, honest-to-goodness books!

 

Launching WRECK has been unlike launching any other book in my career. Its subject matter is hard, and the book isn’t funny (I love writing funny books).  But more than anything, its launch feels a way I can’t quite name. The only thing I can come up with is disrespectful.

 

So many people have died recently–in my sphere and in others–and the world is so difficult and dark right now. Launching a book about death just seems like more grief fuel.

 

Most times, launching a book is a moment of joy and pride. And it still is, in some respects, even under these circumstances. Maybe I’m being irrational. It’s only a book. It’s not real. But Steve and Tobin’s story seems rather unnecessary right now, even if the story is beautiful, or it gives someone a new way to look at the subject matter. It seems unkind to launch a book like this.

 

In my life, I’ve lost three people since January, one of them an immediate family member. If I expand my circle to my friends’ lives, I can add several more deaths, ranging in age from 16 to 91. If I count up all the deaths in my circles, my husband’s circles, and our friends’ circles (friends we’d invite for supper, not acquaintances), it’s close to twenty people. Since December. 4.5 months of steady deaths.

 

I don’t feel like this is normal. So adding more grief and sorrow to the mix just seems wrong.

 

All of these deaths make me wonder what the larger lesson is. Why so many people in such a short time? One person I put this question to told me to grow up–there wasn’t any pattern or reason, it was just life, so I should stop trying to find any answers. But I know myself. If my brain’s going to search for answers (and it’s gonna, like, forever), then I should give it one.

 

Maybe all of this death is the way the Universe is drawing us close to one another, and re-teaching us how to support each other. It’s a reminder that all we have is each other, and life is most useful, special, and rewarding when it’s shared. As we comfort each other, we can re-member ourselves, re-enlist in the army of humane humanity. We can re-connect ourselves with each other.

 

The book does this, too. Ike reminds Tobin, more than once, that we have each other, even in the dark times, and we have to live the moments life gives us until there are no more.  Maybe a book that considers these facts is okay right now.  Maybe it’s better than I thought. But it still feels . . . difficult. Not right. Maybe disrespectful.

 

I do love this book. I think the story’s worth reading, and it’s well told. I think teens can use a book like this, to help them deal with their own grief. I personally don’t welcome more grief right now, which re-presents itself every time I talk about Tobin, Steven, and Ike. My brain and my heart are difficult territory right now.

 

But like it or not, here we are. The book is here. And so is sadness and grief. It’s just life.

Posted in DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS, emotions, grief, readers, WRECK, writing life, yawp | Leave a comment

Sometimes you write the book, sometimes the book writes you.

Posted on November 26, 2018 by kirstincm

 

Action figures! Lake Superior! Photography! Welcome to WRECK.

Writing is a funny thing. You’d think you’d be in control of the process, but sometimes you’re not. Sometimes the characters do or say things you’re not expecting. Sometimes the book goes in a direction you don’t expect (the photo above is proof: action figures? in a YA novel?). Sometimes you expect a book to contain one kind of emotion, but you discover it’s full of totally different feelings.

It sounds very, very strange to say that Someone or Something Else (our subconscious, a Higher Power, the Collective Mind, etc.) can take charge of our writing. But it happens. Ask Stephen King if you don’t believe me. And when it does, it’s almost always positive.

In general, I wrote SKY and ORIGINAL FAKE. There were moments the book or the characters were doing surprising things, but I mostly knew where I was going. Not so for BEAUTIFUL MUSIC—I’m not sure Who wrote it, but Someone told Gabe, John, and Paige the story, and I just took dictation. With WRECK, I started the book, but then I consciously let go. I let Tobin, Steve, and Ike do what they were going to do. They surprised me in beautiful ways.

This book wrote me. This book took the grief I carry for my father, for his difficult life and our challenging relationship, and shaped it into something useful for my world (and for the larger world, I hope). This book took the father-daughter relationship I’d wished we’d had and brought it to life, so I could enjoy it. This book will help me know what to do if more of my relatives have degenerative illnesses–what Tobin did on the page is a good lesson for me.

Weird, right? Super weird. But I don’t know how else to describe it. This book knew what it needed to do.

Writing is a funny thing.

 

Posted in books, emotions, gratitude, Stephen King, WRECK, writing life, yawp | Leave a comment