I have read some Stephen King books. Granted, probably not in the last twenty years. I'm not really sure why, as he's an excellent modern writer. The copy I got is a PDF online for free. I can't help but think it's not authorized by Stephen King considering that the distributor is located in Russia. If you want to go ahead and pay $10.52 for the digital version on Amazon.com, I'm sure King and his publisher would be delighted. Reading the PDF on my Kindle, however, comes at a cost: the text is extremely small. It's some kind of revenge, I'm sure.What I was expecting: a dry book about grammar or a personal system about how he churns out his popular fiction. But what I got instead is an autobiographical account of writing in his life. Most of it feels like a forward at this point, despite the PDF having three already. Thus far, I have been highly entertained. There is something about King's ability to turn a phrase or frame an experience or scene which is fresh and raw while maintaining a high degree of quality. Perhaps I have been spending too much time with the literary 'greats' like Charles Dickens and not enough time with contemporary greats like Stephen King.
The first thing from the book, aside from being impressed with his style, what really poked me in the eye was that his mother was his first and biggest fan. When he wrote, she bought copies. She encouraged him in a way that must have been vitally important and it makes me hope I remember this well enough for when (or if) I have my own little brood: rather than giving him money to do things he does not like or want to do: dishes, taking out garbage, or other typical chores, she gives him money to do things that he does love to do. Encourage and foster a love for doing something rather than putting value on base chores which no one can love. What a remarkably simple but powerful way to build King's self confidence and love for what he really loves. There's no battle of wills between a reluctant parent and hopeful writer, or apathy (perhaps a shade worse than an angry parent, since at least an angry parent can become an actor in some imaginary tale while apathy is never very interesting).
On dealing with his first serious critic, "...in my heart I stayed ashamed. I kept hearing Miss Hisler asking why I wanted to waste my time, why I wanted to write junk." (p. 47) Why is it teachers are usually at the forefront of tearing apart student ambitions?
"Life isn't a support-system for art. It's the other way around." (p. 98)
I remember in my youth, perhaps late teens, my opinion of Stephen King changing for the negative. It was not because of some poorly written novel or an insult carried to me through his words. It was this series of short parts of a book that seemed to be dished out in such a way as to maximize the cost of what would otherwise be a normal novel of normal cost. Perhaps being poor, I felt like it was a slap in the face of fans who were financially challenged. Since then I haven't read anything of his. So, this book really is the first I've read of his in more than twenty years. Time flies! I think he's been buying $25 novels for so long that he's mostly forgotten his nickle and dime days.
This book makes me think of my own writing journey: a failure, not a success, naturally. The closest I've come is four illustrated books with the originals where? I have no clue: perhaps in a garbage bag well taken care of by a cousin. Perhaps at the bottom of some landfill never to be found again. So it seems I must begin again. I'm forty. I guess it's not too late. But the burning desire to make it happen isn't as keen as it once was, and what's worse, the faith in myself for making it happen is gone.
You may wonder where plot is in all this. The answer--my answer, anyway--is nowhere. I won't try to convince you that I've never plotted any more than I'd try to convince you that I've never told a lie, but I do both as infrequently as possible. I distrust plot for two reasons: first, because our lives are largely plotless, even when you add in all our reasonable precautions and careful planning: and second, because I believe plotting and the spontaneity of real creation aren't compatible. (p. 156)I think this is an interesting point. Not because it's right or because it's wrong. Because it's both and neither. Considering the huge collection of material related to Tolkien's LOTR. Tolkien's son, Christopher, discovered a huge trunk filled with notes, sketches, and the like, of the most remarkable fantasy fiction I have ever read. I am not trying to say that King is inferior at all. Far from it. King is a fantastic writer, but more importantly, he is different. He brings a different approach to story telling than Tolkien. OK, I do like Tolkien better than King. I also like pizza better than spaghetti. But it doesn't mean I want to eat pizza every day. In fact, it's probably not great for my health. I'm not saying that King is good for my health, my point is that diversity in diet is important both for the sanity of my palette and my health. King is not junk. He is an excellent writer and probably ranks in the top 20 or 30 authors of the 20th century in my estimation (I really should make a list). I understand that Rowling's Harry Potter series were well plotted before they were written, but I will freely admit that I would choose King of Rowling. Not that my opinion is worth two cents to anyone but myself, but the point is that his style is a part of what makes his writing unique. And his style doesn't necessarily mean that people who plot are going to be better than him. Let's just say that some that plot are better, while others not.
... stories are found things, like fossils in the ground... (p. 156)This may be true for King. But of course, some people are much better at finding fossils than others. Furthermore, many people have a great deal of training and art behind their digging. But that might very well be his point. He finds the fossils, can recognize them, and hacks away at them using his particular style.
He avoids adverbs. It makes me wonder how often adverbs show themselves in my own writing. I know they're there, but certainly not so many that it would harm his sensibilities in any way.
There is a section that is devoted to the typical how to and how not to become some kind of writer. This is the kind of book I was expecting. Another one of those. Fortunately it is short and it isn't too painful: mostly a rehash of the same stuff that I have read many times before. Perhaps the kind of kick in the pants to get me back to the habit. Submitting these stories there: that's the devil that's always plagued me. I hate submitting to anything.
King ends off describing the near life-ending accident he had. He is both lucky and unlucky. He is lucky that the man who hit him stopped and helped him, waited with him, while help was on its way. He is unlucky that the man hit him. The man who almost killed him is also the man who saved his life. Why did he stop? Why did he help him? Was he afraid of a murder charge or was he genuinely more concerned about King getting through the accident alive? I can't blame King for not seeing that. If I had gone through the same experience, it is unlikely that I would be objective. Had Bryan Smith been one of those actual King villains, surely he would have taken him home and mended him just well enough to keep him alive.
Honestly, this is the best writer's book I've ever read. It really does belong on the top of those types of books. Not because it's going to help me become a successful writer, but because for the time I spent reading it, I kind of got a share in the feeling of what it must be like to be a successful writer. It's that telekinetic connection he wrote of I guess.
I hope I will spend the time to do the assignment he mentioned. I will do it. Or die procrastinating on it.
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