I spent many hours ensconced in the local library, reading - nay, devouring - book after book after book. Books were my soul's delight.
It seemed uncanny that words, spread across a page just so, had the power to transport me to another time or place. But they could.
Something about your life always makes its way into your stories. That's just the nature of the beast.
Writing is a muscle that needs to be exercised.
Originally I had planned to write just a couple of children's books and then, return the focus on adult literature. A funny thing happened along the way - I kept having new ideas, and then I looked up one day, and 30 years had passed!
In one sense, the stories I read betrayed me. Too few gave me back my mirror image. Fewer still spoke to, or acknowledged, the existence of the problems I faced as a black foster child from a dysfunctional and badly broken home.
In 'Out of the Dark,' I'm talking about my own life. I'm not talking as a character or speaking as a character. I was not as free as when I write fiction.
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