When people started calling my Chuckowski after my book of short stories, "Lights of the City: Stories from Austin," I felt I needed to move in another direction, at least some. My novel "Drifter's Story" also has Bukowski qualities. A big difference is that I am a father, even if reluctantly, and I had children to care for and help feed. I was out of academia sixteen years, spent time sleeping in basement floors with roaches crawling all over me, and in the back of a station wagon, but went back, had a third child, and found more time to write and the stability to write regularly, finally, while teaching, I saw a lot of crash and burn among writers associated with the Buk. Steve Richmond, who I shared a book with, became a heroin addict. Joanie Whitebird in Houston, who knew Buk and wrote about him, probably died by overdosing. Maybe it was an accident. Hope it was. Buk had a strong liver and he held out a long time. I'm glad I went my own way.