My second book choice for the year was Stephen King’s On
Writing. And while it’s taken me half an eternity to finish, it’s not because
the book is boring or obtuse or an incredibly difficult read.
On the contrary, this book has been wholly engrossing. Educational and bewitching.
The problem, and it’s a frequent one I face, was that I wanted to remember every single thing I was reading. Everything.
And that slowed my progress considerably. (There's only so fast a girl can scribble.)
Still, I finally managed to finish the book today, and I’m happy to report a little of what I learned and loved from the 288 page, hardback edition of King’s very good work of non-fiction.
I’ve already mentioned on Facebook that I was a King virgin going into this.
I’d never read his fiction or even seen the movie versions of his best sellers.
I mean, I possess a hazy image of Jack Nicholson looking insane and wielding an ax/pitchfork/spiky metal object the way anyone born this century probably does. But I have no idea when or how it got implanted in my brain.
I also had a basic understanding of the plotline of Carrie based on friend’s recountings of a movie remake I was way too terrified to see, but mostly, I didn’t know much about King, other than that he wore glasses and wrote creepy things about supernatural subjects.
More importantly I really never cared to.
I always assumed his fiction would be grotesque and shallow,
far more disturbing than anything I’d be interested in.
(For years Final Destination was my gauge of scariness, it being at the outer limit of what I could handle without nightmares. In hindsight, it's probably darker and less
poetic than most of King’s work. But you live and learn, very slowly in my case.)
Regardless of my wrong assumptions about his fiction, since King is quite clearly an expert on churning out successful stories, I decided his memoir/guide to writing would be a good read.
It also bears mentioning I came by the book as a loan from a friend... four years ago.
When I settled on making my reading resolution I figured now would be as good a time as any to finally cross this one off my to read list. (Plus I figured the relief of returning something I borrowed two jobs, a wedding and a presidential term ago would be reward enough for my efforts.)
I started the book towards the end of vacation. Was pleasantly surprised by its contents. Then slowly, slooooowwwwwllly, worked through its pages.
(Again, slowly 'cause it was filled with helpful information and countless funny turns of phrases I wanted to remember.)
What I discovered about King a chapter into his book is that he boasts the kind of dry humor I really appreciate.
(Give me dry humor and stories about using poison ivy as toilet paper, and you'll pretty much have a fan for life.)
But what surprised me more than King's keen humor, was the fact that he manages to express a vulnerability, a sensitivity, you'd never expect from someone that's been a dominating force in the writing game since before I was born.
He does though. Convincingly.
He comes across as both humble and relatable, without ever shying away from the story of his ultimate, almost unfathomable commercial success.
He manages to get you rooting for this young guy, struggling to get by in a crappy apartment with three young kids to support and a wife working at Dunkin Donuts to keep food on the table, despite the little bit of hindsight you already have (knowing he'll go on to live in a mansion, with 62 published books to his name and untold fortunes from movie rights and reprints).
In 88 pages he had me rooting wholeheartedly for his success, as if I was right there in the crappy apartment with him, receiving the shocking call from a landline in his kitchen.
He'd sold a little thing called “Carrie” for a whopping $400,000, and I couldn't have been happier for him.
In later chapters I found out that King is a loving husband and dad, a recovered addict and alcoholic, and a guy that spends every morning - rain, shine or holiday - in his home office diligently putting words on paper.
But he had my amused attention long before any of that.
He had me from the start, his start.
King was raised lower-middleclass by a secretive but supportive single mom. The first pages of On Writing are an amusing, scattershot look at that upbringing, from his frequent rejection letters from publications to his job working on a paper his brother invented (and produced) in the spider-infested basement of their humble dwelling in Maine.
King also explains how his odd jobs and brief troubles with the authorities at his school shaped his character and his craft. Hitchhiking to see bad sci-fi flicks and eventually college (where he would meet and later marry a girl that wrote poems about bears) also contributed to his quirky sensibilities as a novelist.
And I loved seeing all those puzzle pieces come together.
Good too were the sneak peaks of his novels that I got through examples provided in the book.
King clearly has an uncanny ability to bring life and relatability to even despicable characters. He also seems able to bring surprising and much-needed doses of humanity to outlandishly absurd sci-fi- premises.
And he definitely has a gift of making the art, the craft really, of writing seem less like shooting darts in the dark (a winning analogy he makes) and more like the arduous training that goes into running a marathon. (Ick!)
I realize now, 952 words in, that this sounds more like a glowing character
study on Stephen King than a book review.
And while that’s not quite what I set
out to do, honestly, I’m okay with it.
‘Cause while I personally took a lot of helpful, practical tips on writing from the aptly named book, (pages and pages actually) my primary take away – and the one I feel is most universal - is that I’ve become fascinated by the brain behind this book.
I feel surprisingly compelled to read some of King's now classic novels (and to lazily rent movie versions of some others) all because of the way King introduced me to his life, and work habits. And I think people familiar with his novels would be even more appreciative of the peek behind the Oz curtain as well. (It’s a peak at a master of his craft, for sure, but at a likable character as well.)
Second to becoming interested in the man behind Misery, The Shining, Green Mile and The Stand, and more personally, On Writing also encouraged me deeply.
It made me feel like this thing I’ve wanted to do since I was seventeen, this “silly ambition” as I’ve often called it… this “hobby” I’ve tried in vain to get over, like it was a bad case of Mono… is maybe not as silly as I’ve tried to believe.
Maybe it’s okay to want to put words on paper. To get excited by fashioning stories out of seemingly unrelated ideas. To need time alone, behind a desk, with a door closed. And a keyboard nearby.
Maybe I'm not quite as weird - or at least not quite as alone in my weirdness - as I might have thought.
Like I’ve said, in a roundabout way, this wasn’t the easiest book to read or review, at least not for me.
There was just so much to digest, so much to soak in. So much good stuff I wanted to relish.
I didn’t want to rush through anything.
(Though I am glad I finished it, finally, and not just to return it to its rightful owner.)
In a lot of ways reading On Writing felt like having a very long, educational talk with an old friend over coffee. Or maybe with a wise, quirky uncle. Or a favorite college professor, one not afraid to occassionally use profanity to add color to a story.
Regardless of the relation, reading the book felt like discovering a like-minded soul, albeit one with much better vocabulary, not to mention a far more active imagination.
And that was refreshing, along with being entertaining.
If you’re interested in writing, a fan of Stephen King’s, or just need a friendly push to spend more time reading and less time sucking on the “glass teat” that he calls TV, this is a great (if LONG) read, and one I highly recommend.
Yes; there’s profanity. Eee gasp.
And there’s reference to a great many books you may not have read.
But there’s also some laugh out loud moments, and some really touching - I started crying in Starbucks - moments.
Basically, it’s pretty great, with a little something for most anyone.
Even the didn't-know-they-could-be-King-fans like myself.
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