I Gotta Cut Smoking Or

My Mother Was Physically And Emotionally Abusive. My Father Was An Extremely Cold Man.

I Guess I Just Couldn't See Standing There -- Alive, Talking, Thinking, Breathing, Being -- One Second, And Dead The Next. It Really Bothered Me. Death By Violence Isn't The Same As Dying Any Other Way, Accident Or Disease Or Old Age. It Just Ain't The Same.

We Had Played A Kid's Version Of Gang Fighting Called "civil War," And Then Later We Had Got In On The Real Thing, We Fought With Chains And We Fought Barefisted And We Fought Socs And We Fought Other Grease Gangs. It Was A Normal Childhood.

All Of A Sudden It Felt Like People Were Peering Over My Shoulder, Wondering What I Would Write Next. I Was Blocked For Four Years.

My Boyfriend Suggested I Write Two Pages A Day. He Wouldn't Take Me Out If I Hadn't Done My Two Pages. That's How I Wrote My Second Novel.