I remember the day I turned thirty. I was getting out of the shower and I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself for a long time. I examined every inch of my body and appreciated the fact that I finally looked like a grown woman. I also assumed that this was how I was going to look for the rest of my life. The way I saw it, I was never going to age; I'd just look up one day and be old.

We never thought some guy would deliberately fill our hearts with brown sugar and then pour hot water all over it.

Don't worry about how pretty (the story) sounds, how lilting it is, and the imagery, and the metaphor, all that. Most readers don't care. It's the people in your book that matter.

I can't stand that - those women in 'Waiting to Exhale' now. I can't stand them. But that's because I'm 53 and not 33. But what they were experiencing at 33, I identified with it.

I used to get a lot of letters from prisoners. It used to get on my nerves. Especially family members. Everybody's innocent.

happiness aint got no Ph.D. or no certain amount of zeroes behind it!

I try to create characters that I am fascinated by on some level or intrigued by or can't stand.