a propos of nothing, writing

At long last,

I finally wrote a thank-you letter to Stephen King. Check out Premium Harmony if you haven’t – it’s positively O. Henry. I reread his interviews in times of particular selfpityingness, and they always have the effect of getting me back to work. I like his short fiction, I like what he has to say about writing, and I like his prose style most of all. I wish I could get through more of the horror.

Anyway, I’m glad I did it. I just took out a blank card, wrote a few things on it, and that was that. I’m going to have to go put it in the mailbox soon: having an envelope addressed to Stephen King in my room is creepy.

I look forward to being older, less squeamish, and able to read more of his work. I think it’s like eating spicy food: you have to let the tastebuds die. I’m going to check out Lisey’s Story, I think, when I’m done with work. He wrote it in the aftermath of his accident, and it sounds like a good one.


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