According to your bio, you work with books, plays, and poems. What is your process for beginning a new piece and choosing its composition?

I know this may sound contrived, but I feel as if my best projects find me. To me, it feels as if many literary projects are out there in the ether looking for an appropriate human conduit. A very few of those projects might choose me if it feels to them that I might be a good fit. Whether I carry out and finish the project as well as I should is on me, but an idea seems to arrive independent of my efforts. Then the hard work begins.

In “A Friendship in Bohemia,” the perspective frames Maxine at the center and subtly introduces the speaker. How did you decide on the point of view of the poem?   

That shift in point of view did not exist in the original version of the poem. When I wrote the first draft, at least a few decades ago, I was very much still infatuated with the person I based the character of Maxine on. I knew something was off about the point of view, but I didn’t know what, and I couldn’t solve that problem without more distance. A few months ago, I found the poem again and worked on it. It took me quite a few drafts before I arrived at the switch in focus at the very end where the speaker realizes that he loved Maxine. I’m not sure it was a romantic love. It was something between a one-sided romance and an apprenticeship in what it meant to be fully engaged in the world of the arts and the emotions, and Maxine was the speaker’s mentor.

As an educator in creative writing, what is a piece of advice for aspiring writers? 

Give yourself the benefit of the doubt. Be critical of your own work, yes, but don’t expect you are going to be Caravaggio right out of the gate. Realize that if you devote yourself fully to one art, and study it with all your heart, you will arrive at your goal if you are willing to really hear what others tell you about your work.

In the poem, there is a blend of movement and being stationary. How do you approach motion in your poetry? 

That’s a really excellent observation that movement, and the lack of movement, are both crucial to the world of Maxine. I hadn’t consciously included that in the poem. Movement is vitally important to me as a writer, and as a performer of poetry. To me, dance and poetry are linked in a primal way. Poetry is a kind of movement with words.

You recently published a memoir about your father. How has that experience impacted your writing?

Creating the memoir Hugging My Father’s Ghost greatly impacted me. My dad, Lee Rogow, was a widely published writer and glamorous man-about-town in Manhattan in the 1950s—and he died in a tragic accident when I was only three. For most of my life, I’ve been running away from his work, afraid to be compared to his successes, but at the same time, scared of being tagged with what others might see as his shortcomings as a writer who wrote for popular magazines. Embracing my dad’s legacy has been a deeply stirring and liberating experience for me.

Where is your favorite place to travel? 

I have enjoyed traveling on several continents, but France has a special place in my heart. I translate French writers and I love French language and culture. I have much to learn from the lifestyle of Southern Europe, where joie de vivre, the joy of living, is the reason for being, while in North America, we tend to live for our work and our jobs. I feel I’m just starting to catch up with the freedoms and quality of life that France, at its best, has defined.

Read Zack’s poem, “A Friendship in Bohemia” in dulcet Literary magazine, vol. One, Issue No. 1.