A conversation between two damn good writers:
I pictured Gordon Flanders as a young African American who wore hip-hop and was a TA for a lit class in some snooty New York university. When I found out he was white and a bartender, I imagined he was a young Charles Bukowski, less scruffy perhaps and not so broke, but just as raw. Like Bukowski, Flanders sees the ant that crawls under the bathroom sink and writes about how it makes him feel less lonely. Only Flanders has never read Bukowski.
When he’s not writing fiction, he blogs on Anyone’s Ghost and, on Saturdays, he pops up on Conceited Crusade. A few weeks ago, we collaborated on a short story, Elastic Phantasm. I got a first hand look at how his mind works. It moves like a cat.
You’re married. Is she the woman of your dreams?
I have been…
View original post 1,321 more words