Thursday, September 27, 2007
My favorite time to live is in the night. This could be because I work during the day and night seems to be the only time I snatch to imagine, to think, to write. But dangerously--even while driving, my mind will wander off to the unintentional. I question the unknown, then attempt to imagine an answer:
What does a black man do, what does he look like when he grieves? Why would a daughter protect an abusive mother?
Here is--what I hope--a treat for my family and friends: my blog viewers. It feels great to allow others to see what I have spoken about for so many years--well--since 2001. These are two small excerpts from chapters in my novel Bottom Rail. Shawna, this is an old surprise for you, only small portions of what you read a while back. There is still much editing to be done, but thanks so much to you, again, for your feedback. The “wcs”—the question marks—the “you can find a better way to express this” and the accolade-stars in the margins next to certain lines you found beautiful.
I’ll keep all posted on response letters.