For some reason I’m feeling like GQ in Ernest Dickerson’s ‘Juice’ that night he’s making the mixtape for the big DJ competition. A deadline is imminent and I’m building something from scratch under extreme pressure, which I have to admit that I kinda like. I’ve never been big on writing competitions, as the topics I chose in the past rarely seemed rosy enough for cookie cutter judges. But this time I’m believing and thus my bullets are learning to turn corners, which is a good thing.


What I remember most about my first meeting with a major publisher was that the couch I sat on was made of real leather. It was strong but it gave underneath me. I was 25 and on an extended lunch break from work. He made me feel like he was doing me a favor, like I was being given a privilege, when in truth I had the kind of dope he was looking to sell. But he didn’t want me to know that. It was too bad that he and his corner boys just didn’t know how to work the streets. I wrote those first books at a quick but relaxed pace, letting spirit guide me. And I kept with that, in all that I did (or at least most of Β it).


There’s something serious to be said for a woman who believes in a man, who sees a blueprint on paper and can already feel the flooring under her feet. This is not just about lovers but about women who see a man’s work and believe in it, even when they don’t always get it or when it’s not their thing. I’m thankful for those here and there, in cyberspace and in living air who take the time to ‘like’ and purchase and praise what I do. You are the goddesses who keep my universe spinning. And I truly thank you for that πŸ˜‰