I grew up in a place where books were very, very scarce, and I loved to read. I used to read the writing on my breakfast Ovaltine over and over again because it was in front of me, and I couldn't help but read anything that was in front of me.
I have a photograph of myself when I was 2 years of age, and I don't recognize the person in the photograph. She doesn't look anything like me, and I can't find any trace of her in me physically. And yet I remember her very, very well - even her anxiety.
People only say I'm angry because I'm black and I'm a woman. But all sorts of people write with strong feeling, the way I do.
Children like their mothers especially to be standing still and watching them, even if they are sleeping. At least that's how I felt. There's nothing wrong with the self-interest of children; it's just the way they are.
I write a lot in my head. The revision goes on internally. It's not spontaneous and it doesn't have a schedule.
What distinguished my life from my brother's is that my mother didn't like me. When I became a woman, I seemed to repel her.
