Some Day, My Son, You Are Going

The Bigger The Issue, The Smaller You Write.

The Kind Of Event On A Conveyor Belt That Causes A Fire Occurs In A Variety Of Industrial Environments, Not Uniquely In Coal Environments.

If You're Writing A Book That Takes Place In New York In The Moment, You Can't Not Write About 9-11; You Can't Not Integrate It. My Main Character's View Is The Statue Of Liberty And The Trade Center. It Doesn't Have To Take Over, But It Has To Be Acknowledged.

In A Given Scene I May Know Nothing More Than How It's Supposed To End, Most Of The Time Not Even That. Scenes Are Improvised. A Character Does Or Says Something, And With As Much Spontaneity And Schizophrenia As I Can Muster, Another Character Responds. In This Way, Everything I Write Is Spontaneous Chain Reaction And I'm Running Around Playing Leapfrog In My Brain Trying To "be" All My People.

The Bigger The Issue, The Smaller You Write. Remember That. You Don't Write About The Horrors Of War. No. You Write About A Kid's Burnt Socks Lying On The Road. You Pick The Smallest Manageable Part Of The Big Thing, And You Work Off The Resonance.