Charles Bukowski was a 20th-century American writer and poet known for his unfiltered, potent, and often crude takes on life. Born in Germany in 1920, he emigrated with his family to America in 1923. Bukowski endured a horrible childhood, regularly beaten by his father starting at age six. As an immigrant from Germany, he was ridiculed by other children for his accent and clothing, ostracized as an outcast throughout his schooling.
During his teenage years, Bukowski developed a severe acne condition that covered his face with extreme blemishes, further intensifying his self-consciousness and isolation. The abuse and loneliness he experienced as a child laid the groundwork for his perspective on life and his eventual desire to express himself as a writer. In a later interview, Bukowski reflected on his father’s treatment, saying it made him a great literary teacher because he taught him the meaning of pain—specifically, "pain without reason." He added, "When you get the shit kicked out of you long enough, you will have a tendency to say what you really mean."
After working various blue-collar jobs for years, Bukowski experienced a near-death health crisis in 1955 due to a severe bleeding ulcer. Surviving the ordeal seemed to reignite his creative drive. Shortly after, he quit his job at the post office and resumed writing. Though he published several pieces during this period, they brought little success, forcing him to return to the post office. This time, however, he persisted in writing daily before his shifts. For years, Bukowski continued submitting work to underground magazines with minimal recognition or financial gain.
Yet, Bukowski’s story ultimately became one of literary triumph. He is remembered today as a renowned, successful, and culturally significant writer, regarded among the greatest literary figures of his time. However, his public success didn’t arrive until he was in his fifties, after many more years of relentless writing. His breakthrough came only after securing a publishing deal that allowed him to finally make a living from his work. At the unconventional career age of 50, Bukowski got his first real shot and took it. Though many might have assumed his chances were over, his success was just beginning. He would soon rise to fame in the literary world and broader culture.
Bukowski's journey involved years of writing, struggling, and persisting before circumstances aligned for his breakthrough. He finally achieved the success he had longed for since his teenage years. Yet, his gravestone bears the words, "Don't Try," a message that seems grim and counterintuitive to his life story. How could a man who achieved greatness through relentless persistence leave behind such a statement?
In a letter to William Packard, a publisher and fellow writer, Bukowski explained, "Too many writers write for the wrong reasons. They want to get famous or they want to get rich or they want to get laid by the girls with the bluebells in their hair... When everything works best, it’s not because you chose writing, but because writing chose you. It’s when you’re mad with it. When it’s stuffed in your ears, nostrils, under your fingernails. It’s when there’s no hope but that." Bukowski wasn't merely speaking to writers but addressing the broader ideas of purpose, success, and creative endeavors.
Like discovering a favorite color, finding one’s purpose often feels more like something that happens naturally rather than a conscious choice. You may justify why you like a certain color, but the emotional connection comes from within. Purpose, though far more complex and high-stakes, might be fundamentally similar. Bukowski returned to writing throughout his life, never modifying his voice for fame or acceptance. Rejection and suffering never stripped him of his passion for writing because he didn’t have to try to care about it—it was simply part of him.
In the same letter to Packard, Bukowski continued, "We work too hard. We try too hard. Don't try. Don't work. It’s there. Looking right at us, aching to kick out of the closed womb." His message suggests that if you have to try too hard to care about something or to force desire, it may not be your true calling. But if the process, despite its pain and difficulty, feels essential—if the thought of not doing it hurts more than the struggle itself—then that may be where your purpose lies.
So, Bukowski’s "Don't Try" wasn't a call for passivity but rather a reminder to be authentic. His words seem to emphasize creative honesty, natural expression, and an unrelenting pursuit of what feels true within. And perhaps he would say, if you're going to try, go all the way.
So, what do you think about this?