Ah, there are so many from which to choose. I could be flippant and simply name the dictionary. Or I could go with formative reads from when I was still trying to figure out who I am as a person. I could mention books that so changed my perception of what can be done with the English language that they inspired me in my own writing.

I am an avid reader. I read every day. There are some books that hook you immediately and never let up. While others are like a fine liquor that takes a while to process and changes from the moment it hits your tongue until the aftertaste kicks in a minute later. I like both kinds of books. Each has their unique charm.

Whenever I’m asked to give an example of writers that I consider to be superior, I usually mention William Shakespeare or Joseph Conrad. Shakespeare gets mentioned, not just by me, but by learned literary circles throughout the world, because of his complete mastery of language. There’s so much subterfuge and double entendre woven through miles of iambic pentameter (think about that – writing an entire story in rhyme and meter) that his technical prowess cannot be denied.

Conrad, on the other hand, is like the fine liquor that I mentioned. When I pick up a book by Conrad, I savor it. I read it very slowly and let every word sit on my tongue for a moment before I swallow. The most amazing thing about Joseph Conrad is that English was not his native tongue. He didn’t even learn the language until he was in his twenties. Imagine growing up in Poland where Polish is the only language you speak. When you’ve lived twenty years or more in that country, speaking that language, you move to England where you write some of the most beautiful English prose ever written. Perhaps the fact that English wasn’t his native tongue was what actually allowed Conrad to so thoroughly master the language, but whatever the reason, he did it with flair.

Then, there’s Charles Bukowski. He had no formal training and didn’t seriously start writing until the latter half of his life. He shredded the concept of what poetry had to be that persisted throughout the ages. He took Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Longfellow, et al and threw them right out the window with a big fuck you.

When you ask for a book that changed my life, I think of Bukowski. I think of the first Bukowski book that my boyfriend handed me, Post Office, over twenty years ago when he said, “you should read this.” I’ve since ditched the boyfriend, but he unknowingly started a lifelong love affair with Bukowski’s words.

Bukowski is my hero. He is my hero because he never asked for anything. He didn’t expect anything to come of his writing. He wrote every day because he had no other choice. The words compelled him to do so. He proves that if you’re doing this for fame and fortune, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. He stands as a testament to the fact that it’s never too late to start writing down the words that issue from your soul.