Then a nervous wait in another room adjacent to a dimly lit lab-like area where technicians and producers huddled over banks of glowing monitors, like they were controlling drones over Afghanistan. Then all too soon it was my turn. I was ushered into a small winged chair and before I knew it a microphone was clipped to my lapel and the host, Musah Mkalipi, was asking me where I got the inspiration to write Dying in New York.
She was great.