Read Diane's article in Essence Special Edition		Read Diane's article in July's Essence

Your debut, Tumbling, was received with extremely high praise, earning rave reviews as well as a comparison to the work of Toni Morrison. Did you find it hard to live up to these expectations as a writer and did you feel pressure while writing your second novel, Tempest Rising?

Yes, I felt tremendous pressure. Tempest Rising was a difficult book to write because Tumbling had been so well-received. With Tumbling I had no deadline, no conception of an audience waiting for the book, no thought of sales and marketing and tours, no fears of being a one-book wonder. And though my editor insisted over and over that it was her job to consider the marketing aspects, my only obligation was the story; I still had to work very hard to distance myself from those considerations so that I could reclaim the magic that was always with me during the writing of the first novel. I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment when I completed the second novel.

 

A backroom abortion plays a central role in Leaving Cecil Street. Why did you choose to write about abortion?

I actually did not plan to write about abortion. I generally begin my novels with a place, an atmosphere, the shadowed frames of one or two characters. The story follows from that. The story of Leaving Cecil Street began with the flashback to the block, the rhythms and clatter, the shade trees, the cherry water ice, the corner boys singing a capella as the sun set. As the block came more in focus I was able to peek in between the Venetian blinds and see the secrets living inside the houses. When I first realized that Neet, one of the main characters, a teenager with a bright future was pregnant I was not sure how it would play out. Would she terminate the pregnancy or not? Run away? Get married? But once I started writing that abortion scene, man, that scene just rumbled out of me and caught me by surprise. I was out of breath after I wrote that scene as if I'd run a marathon. It was as if everything I knew about writing came together in that scene. My best writing happens like that and I wish I knew exactly what to do to hurry it along, or make it happen more often. So though I didn't plan to write about a back room abortion I went with it because it works in the context of that block. Women of my generation perhaps know people who've had what we called back-room abortions. Perhaps younger women who take their right of choice for granted might get a glimpse of how it could be if they suddenly no longer had a choice -- which could happen. But the abortion theme came out of the story, the story unplanned, emerging and catching me by surprise as I went along.

 

 

What message do you hope readers will take with them after reading Leaving Cecil Street?

Well certainly I hope that people take with them the beauty, the closeness, of this block. So much is made of the negatives of African American communities -- the crime, the drugs, the poverty -- and I am not suggesting that those conditions do not exist, particularly when communities do not benefit from basic services because those services are deployed to more well-heeled sections of a city -- but all over the country there have been African American communities that thrive, that are desirable places to live.

I hope that people also take something from the story about the nature of right and wrong. The degrees. That what may appear to be the worst thing a person could do, could actually be less so when one considers the intentions behind the act.

 

 

Are any of the characters in Leaving Cecil Street based on people that you know or have known?

Not really. I knew people who got pregnant young, but in my day you got married or were sent to live with relatives down south. There were always a group of boys singing love songs on some corner steps. Always one person on the block who everybody else gossiped about. Always some child who had to go to church all of the time. So in terms of broad characteristics, yes, I borrow liberally from what was. The characters themselves though get so filtered through my imagination; change so from their original rendering, that had they started off as a real person, they'd probably be unrecognizable by the end.

Leaving Cecil Street was five years in the making. What was the writing process like for this novel? What are your rules for writing? What are your inspirations?

September 11th happened during the writing of this novel and for a time everything I wrote felt so small, trivial. Until I was able again to connect with what is important in my work, the universality of human connectedness, of suffering or joy, the nature of compassion, betrayal, redemption. I had many starts and stops with this novel. Many revisions.

My only rule for writing is that I begin early. I have access to imaginative powers at five in the morning that I just can't tap into at noon. This doesn't mean that I don't work later in the day, just that I do a different type of writing, more logical and sequential.  I'm sometimes inspired by music, jazzy ballads are nice, a good horn sound. Other times being up close with people I don't know. I lived out of the city for awhile and spent a lot of time in the car. After I moved back into Philly I realized that I missed the way the city forces you into spaces with strangers, on busses and els for example when you can watch people for the length of the ride, see what happens to their face when they laugh or frown, the pattern of wrinkles. I walk a lot more now and hear snatches of conversations; the rhythms and inflections of human speech are fascinating. You miss that in a car.

 

 

All four of your novels are set between the 1940s and 1970s -- what is your affinity with these eras?

I wish I knew. This novel started off actually set in contemporary times with extended flashbacks to Cecil Street. Except that the block, the era were much more exciting to me than the frame at the beginning and end set in today. My editor agreed. I think that when writing about the past I'm forced to use my imagination more, to not settle for chronicling how things are today, but to see it first as a blur, and then through sharpening the image allowing a story to unfold. I'm working on my next novel that also seems to be set in the current day … we'll see.

 

 

I imagine that it is a tough balancing act being a writer, mother, wife and teacher. What are the biggest challenges you face or have faced?

Time, time, time. When I'm in the intensive phase of writing, when the deeper meanings of the story are beginning to emerge and the characters have taken on lives of their own, I'm almost always in that world, or at least wanting to be. This was a particular challenge when my children were younger, I have to confess that much of our quality time was spent with me reading portions of the novel to them and soliciting their input. I find it difficult to get a lot of writing done while I'm teaching, so I just teach one semester a year. But when I'm really into the deepest phases of the writing, I don't answer the phone or e-mail; I rely on my husband to relay important information. Life gets messy because the story takes me over. I've accepted the reality of that, perhaps even the necessity.

 

 

Who did you grow up reading? What was your favorite book as a child?

I'm influenced by a range of writers from Toni Morrison to James Baldwin to Terry McMillan to William Blake.

 

 

How do your own life experiences influence your novels?

My life experiences certainly influence my worldview, and it is that view that falls onto the page naturally, without any effort on my part.

 

 

What made you start writing?

Writing was always something I knew I did well. Was raised to believe that everybody had a special talent. I don't sing or dance or draw or paint, it was writing or why was I born. Yet I was years and years coming to fiction writing. I was approaching a big birthday and doing the life-evaluating thing people do as they enter a new decade. I'd always told myself that at some point I would write fiction but I kept putting it off because I simply did not have the time. I realized that if I didn't at least attempt it, at that point, I never would, and that it would be a regret that would eat at me from then on. Once I became conscious of the urgency, it actually took more effort to continue deferring the writing. I started by sneaking up a couple of hours early each morning. That became my magic time. It still is.