When I have an idea for a story, I never know how it’s going to turn out or, even, what it’s really about. I tend to spill out my guts all over the page, and then go back and shape it.

Here lately, I suppose I’d describe myself as a collagist. I collect slim notebooks of overheard language, odd images, possible poem frameworks, & run-on thoughts that keep me up at night.

I would like to put forth the idea that I’m a tea bag writer. I pack a bag of ideas and sit in the water and whatever comes out, that’s the story.

“If there’s a kind of sculptor who finds her way by diving blindly into the fog, hands extended, that’s the kind of writer-sculptor that I am.”

I think it’s important not to be tone deaf about the current cultural climate. But I think there’s a difference between being tone deaf and playing a tune that people want to hear as a way of courting public approval.

The first line of the novel is, ‘What I did to them was terrible, but you have to understand the context.’

The only thing I know for sure is that sustained creativity, regardless of recognition, is the crux of human existence.

A discussion and book club about Elena Ferrante's "The Lying Life of Adults," featuring Ann Goldstein, Ferrante's American translator, and Michael Reynolds of Europa Editions, moderated by novelist Rachel Lyon.

The point is that they worked to create a platform for themselves—for Black youths—to say whatever they wanted to say. That’s their most powerful legacy.