"People wonder why the level of reason and discourse is low. We read junk books."

So James McBride came to our school this week, and I wrote an essay on his lecture to the LJML department for extra credit in my lit class. Besides The Color of Water, he also wrote the book and the screenplay that has become the latest Spike Lee movie, Miracle at St. Anna.

From the moment he walked in, James McBride commanded the attention of the audience. At first it was unsaid, as he strode toward the front with a mien of import and impatience, there to do what he was paid to do and not necessarily enthralled with the idea. But then it was said: he told us to look alive, and give him some feedback, because he was tired. Clearly, he was there to talk to us, but only if we were interested.

I was. I had read The Color of Water as an incoming freshman and found McBride’s unconventional upbringing fascinating. That he and all of his siblings went on to higher education reinforced my belief that anyone can and, in an ideal world, everyone would, do the same. In the lecture, he mentioned his family, saying that at home he did not have the ability to make his own decisions or form his own opinions. “Since I have left school, I have really been on my own. I don’t listen to anybody else, because if I did, I wouldn’t get anything done,” he said.

I latched on to his perspective on the writing process. He said that journalism is an excellent place for writers to begin, because the medium “forces you to get your facts straight.” Stay in it too long, though, and you will become cynical. “All your creativity goes out the bottom of your shoes,” he said.

He continues to write every day. “Today, I still got up and wrote for a half-hour,” he said. “Because that is what I do.”

I went up to him afterward and tried to get him to agree to judge the non-fiction section of this year’s Driftwood, but he declined, saying that he was too busy this year, and even if he weren’t, he hated the idea of deciding who would win and who wouldn’t. He said he’d never won anything like that, and that far too often the best writers get overlooked. I told him that he did get a movie deal, after all.

I also told him that I wanted to be an editor. “Good,” he said. “There’s a need for good editors.” He said I needed to go to New York, though. “Even if it’s just for two or three years.” I told him I’d think about it.