I do wish that people talked about the subject of race, especially in the South.

It can be really powerful to write something when you're sad.

I'm a Southerner - I never take satisfaction in touching a nerve.

I was born in Jackson, Mississippi, in 1969, in a time and place where no one was saying, 'Look how far we've come,' because we hadn't come very far, to say the least. Although Jackson's population was half white and half black, I didn't have a single black friend or a black neighbor or even a black person in my school.

I started writing it the day after Sept. 11. I was living in New York City. We didn't have any phone service and we didn't have any mail. Like a lot of writers do, I started to write in a voice that I missed.

If chocolate was a sound, it would’ve been Constantine’s voice singing. If singing was a color, it would’ve been the color of that chocolate.

Mississippi and the world is two different places,′ the Deacon say and we all nod cause ain’t it the truth.

I feel like I’m selling something nobody want to buy. Something big and stinky, like Kiki Brown and her lemon smell-good polish. But what really makes me and Kiki the same is, I’m proud a what I’m selling. I can’t help it. We telling stories that need to be told.

There’s no place left inside me for you.

I am looking for a future for myself. I like to hear about the possibilities of others.