Well, I was born and raised in Bakersfield, California, in the San Joaquin Valley. I was the oldest of three daughters, and I’m the oldest of 23 grandchildren on my mother’s side. So, when people ask me, “What was your childhood like?” I tell them the truth. It was noisy. I have a lot of fond memories of big family gatherings at my Mexican grandmother’s house.
My other grandmother also lived nearby. She lived out in Arvin, California, and she was from Oklahoma. So, one Saturday I would go to one grandmother’s house, and I would eat fried chicken, black-eyed peas, smothered greens, and peach cobbler with big, fat dumplings that would stay in your stomach for about a week. And the next weekend, I’d go to my other grandmother’s house and eat red mole and enchiladas, rice and beans, and lamb stuffed with garlic. I had a really interesting, fun childhood.
One of the things that I think prepared me the most for being a writer was that I was blessed with a lot of big blocks of unchoreographed time and a lot of benevolent neglect that gave me the opportunity to spend a lot of time playing and developing my imagination. And I’m really thankful for that.
