This book by the author Stephen King (not my uncle, as clarified before) gets a 5 out of 5. Beautifully, truthfully written. And thats the point, isn't it? To write our truth as vividly as possible so people get a glipse into a life? You can write beautifully about a terrible story, and I realized that is what King does in his novels. This memoir gave me a picture of that.
It made me self conscious for a few minutes-- am I a bad writer? A compement one? Do I make Shakespeare look like a chapter book or Danielle Steel look like a genius? Honestly, I don't know yet. And it doesn't matter, because I'm not there yet. These posts are SFDs (Shitty First Drafts, thank you Anne Lamott) and what King would call "writing with the door closed". My door is both physically and metaphorically open, because it gets damn hot with it closed, and because people can read my first drafts, but I'm cool with it. Eventually I'll edit and see what we come up with, but for now, enjoy the spelling errors and occasional bad grammar.
Is it ok to have a crush on Stephen King? I'm realizing that every book I fall in love with, I end up falling in love with the author too. I don't know if I'm ready for Carrie or The Shining, but I do want to read some of his fiction. Any suggestions?
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