Writing For Me Is Cutting Out The

I'm Proud Of 'miracle At St. Anna' And I Loved It; There's No Question In My Mind It's As Good As Any Movie That Came Out In 2007.

...since I Was A Little Boy, She Had Always Wanted Me To Go. She Was Always Sending Me Off On A Bus Someplace, To Elementary School, To Camp, To Relatives In Kentucky, To College. She Pushed Me Away From Her Just As She'd Pushed My Elder Siblings Away When We Lived In New York, Literally Shoving Them Out The Front Door When They Left For College.

My Family Is My Career.

It's The Same Old Story. Nothing In This World Happens Unless White Folks Says It Happens. And Therein Lies The Problem Of Being A Professional Black Storyteller - Writer, Musician, Filmmaker.

I Can Write Anywhere Really. I Have A Hard Time Writing When The Birds Are Tweeting And The Brooks Are Running Outside. I've Tried That Several Times, For Months At A Time, Trying To Write In A Quiet, Wonderful Place Where Birds Are Twittering And Coffee's Brewing. And Nothing Happens. But If I'm In An Old Dump Like My Old Apartment And I Can't Find My Fingernail Clippers And Nothing's Working Except The Old Tea Maker, That's Just Great. You Always Have To Find And Live In A Place That's A Little Uncomfortable When You're A Writer. You Need A Burr In Your Side.