After a while, the fear became a habit, too.

The writer's job, after all, is not to dictate meaning, but to give the reader enough pieces to create his or her own satisfying meaning. The story is truly finished—and meaning is made—not when the author adds the last period, but when the reader enters the story and fills that little ambiguous space, completing the circuit, letting the power flow through.

The people are maybe still as aware of the differences but they are more accepting of it that what we saw in the 70s and 80s, but the undercurrent is still there. There are maybe no racial slurs anymore, no firecrackers in mailboxes, the distinction is much more subtle.

I'd like to think of my self as not melancholic at all, I think I'm a pretty cheerful person, really.

If a news camera shows up, people will line up, they want to be seen. But at the same time they want both to be chosen and not singled out. I think that is an endless struggle within most.

I would never tell myself, you have to write 20 pages today or something. But I do try to show up. Read what I wrote, fix things.

I think this is something that is naturally built in in people, a need for attention and a need to be special and we are always trying to find a balance.