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Years ago, novelist Edwidge Danticat generously gave a writing workshop and talk to students at Spelman College. We had been reading Danticat’s Krik? Krak! in Professor Opal Moore’s creative writing workshop, and when I saw Edwidge I was effusive with praise: “yourwritingeverywordissoperfecteachimagejustexactlyso.”
When I finally stopped to take a breath, Edwidge laughed and said, “Do you think it comes out ‘already birthed’?”

The writer, Edwidge Danticat

These days, as I’m getting older and spending more time thinking about marriage and motherhood and creativity and community, I find myself mulling over Edwidge’s words…The idea that writing truly is a laborious process, and that whenever you write, you’re creating a new and original entity, is a reminder to be gentle to ourselves, to give ourselves time to allow our creations to be born, take shape, and ultimately, enter the world.

As I seek to open a co-working space in Harlem, I want to thank New York’s tech and co-working community space for offering guidance and support. A beautiful, comfortable, and affordable place is desperately needed in Harlem, and I’m grateful to these two busy entrepreneurs for taking the time to offer advice.

Mr. Matthew Shampine, Founder WeWork Labs

Mr. Benjamin Dyett, founder of Grind

When work was being done on our building and we lost our Internet a few months back, I realized that one cannot live–nor write–by Starbucks alone…I’m now in the process of developing a coworking space for writers, small business owners, tech folks, and consultants because a space like that doesn’t exist this far uptown (though Marcus Mayo hopes to bring one to Harlem’s popular 125th street). If you need a quiet space to write or work, in a relaxed environment in Hamilton Heights, please email me at harlemcoworkers@gmail.com. We’re accepting applications now, with plans to open in early summer…

And, finally, while we’re on the subject of writers building things to help other writers, please check out sci-fi writer Autumn Simmons. She’s the host of Talk Fuzion, where she celebrates indy authors. This month, I’m a guest on one of her episodes.

When I picked up Nnedi Okorafor’s Who Fears Death, it was as though mayonaise had been destroyed, game show host Alex Trebek had retired, and the actor Idris Elba had developed a sudden fetish for frizzy-haired women with big feet…This book sliced my mind open, deposited itself, and like some kind of fungus, sprouted and wouldn’t let go. This experience was far more pleasant than it sounds. The reason why? Okorafor plugs into myths so ancient, so deeply embedded within us, that her story cannot help but to resonate. I think this is what separates exceptional writing from the mundane or even the very good. Without the mythology of ancient Egypt and west Africa, Okorafor would still have written a fine sci-fi novel, but her ability to tap into primal fears is what makes her words linger.

I’ve been reading Victor LaValle’s latest, Devil in Silver, and there’s a reason why he’s one of the most talented writers out there today—he manages to capture humanity, a genuine emotion or idea, in the simplest of movements.

Take this example, from early in the novel:

: “Her long-sleeved top didn’t quite reach her jeans, so a band of her stomach showed and bulged out slightly, and she tugged at the bottom of her shirt to cover it. But the moment she let go, it slipped up again, showing skin. She yearned to be seen but felt awkward each time it happened” (LaValle 124).

Or this one, which appears a little later:

“Dorry landed on the side of her head. Her neck bent so hard, so fast, that for a moment her ear touched her elbow” (LaValle 299).

The first quote contains the essence of adolescence. You read it and think, “this is exactly what being a teenager felt like.” The second quote…well, I would go into detail, but I don’t want to say to much, yet I’ll say this: think about how hard it is to completely touch your elbow. (I’m doing it now, and I can get my elbow to touch my bicep, but not my elbow; perhaps my arms are too long?) Anyhow, this circus-like contortion perfectly demonstrates the physical/emotional struggles this particular character experiences…

I’ve made a commitment to try to be more observant, to notice more of the world around me. And examining the small details that make you fall in love with a book may be a good place to start.

I’m 5′10 and have feet so big that if I ever got lost in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, I could use those big-ass feet to paddle my way home.