December 2008

A Conversation With Michael J. Phillips,
Founder and Editor of Bukowski.net

From the moment I read my first Bukowski poem (“so you want to be a writer?”) in my first Bukowski book (“sifting through the madness for the Word, the line, the way”), I was hooked.

I had never read anything like it, and I wanted more—and more.

Over the next several years, I would buy a new Bukowski book—a collection of poems, columns, stories, letters, essays, or a full-length novel—whenever possible. The sheer volume of his work is matched only by the quality of it all. As my writing partner (who first recommended Bukowski) and I often do during late-night, wine-drinking phone conversations, picking any page number from any collection results in the same reaction: “Wow!” Read more…

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”—Pablo Picasso

There’s no worse feeling for a writer: opening the mailbox to discover an envelope addressed to you, written by you.

The news is never good. There’s no need, really, to even open the damn thing. But you’re a writer, ergo a bit of  a masochist. A voice inside your head whispers, “Hey, you never know.”

So, despite the urge to burn before reading, you rip it open. “Dear Author,” it typically begins, if you’re lucky enough to get that personal of a greeting. The rest of what is usually a short note can be reduced to one disemboweling, blood-soaked word: REJECTED! Read more…