So I'll always have a little voodoo in my blood, and in my writing, but it's not a major factor.Īs far as how it shaped me as a person.not really sure I can answer that, honestly, since I don't have another life experience of growing up somewhere else for contrast. Writers are always evolving, and even when we grow and change and shed the things that don't work, little bits of it cling. I've left that behind, though I can't say it's wholly gone. (Yes, even lusher than my current writing-the way I write now is sparse by comparison.) I always felt like I was trying to capture New Orleans' black magic bourbon scent in my writing, and I was trying much too hard. My early efforts were made of voodoo blood and graveyard smoke, but they were too heavy and thick-all atmosphere, no substance, until it was hard to even figure out what was going on amid vaguely poetic and overly lush descriptions. There was a point where I think the influence of growing up in New Orleans influenced my writing too much.
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