By Katherine Novak
Never in my
life have I felt so disconnected with a writer upon opening a book as I was
when beginning Stephen King’s On Writing. However, the disinterested attitude I had
towards the highly acclaimed horror, sci-fi, and thriller novelist lasted about
five minutes— or as long as it took for me to read past the first couple
pages. Wanting to genuinely gain another
perspective on writing, but not having ever even touched a horror book— much
less one of King’s famed pieces— I approached On Writing hesitantly. But I
never once felt overwhelmed by references to his works in the horror genre, and
I can confess how entertaining and enlightening I found On Writing.
Combining
memoir and how-to, King creates a personal and also realistic perspective “on
writing.” The creation and progression
of an author was amazing to witness throughout the first half or so of the book. King’s extended narrative of his early life
into writing his first novel, Carrie,
and many subsequent ones displays the moments in his life that King finds
imperative to him becoming such a successful author. King isolates certain events that heavily
influenced his writing, like the inspiration for Carrie partly coming from a job as a janitor, or The Shining being written in a
drug-aided frenzy in which King barely even realized that he was writing about
himself. Unfortunately for me and other
readers, his writing process during this section is described in short
snippets, not completely forming a cohesive whole. The fractured representation of his past and
his writing is not unusual in the memoir genre, which generally displays a more
selective form of an autobiography, but I always find too much skipping around
a little disorienting. Still, I enjoyed
the journey, and every few pages or so I would be presented with a quick
sentence or two of advice to writers that actually prompted further thought on my
part. For example, the advice of many
editors he submitted work to was shared in these pages and while some were included
by King to display their lack of depth, others were incredibly helpful and
could be applicable for any writer.
While
I found it interesting to read dizzying circles about King’s life from his
perspective, the meat of the book— the straightforward “on writing” part— is
within the back half, the part containing information I couldn’t simply google
to find out. As fascinating as King’s
reflection on his life was, I found his advice on the craft of writing much
more intriguing.
The end of the
book dealt with how writing is in King’s mind and his genuine thoughts on how
to do it well. And throughout, I felt as
if I was receiving a personal lesson on how to improve from one of the best. Some of what King says isn’t necessarily
groundbreaking, but the manner in which he presents his tips allow for a more
thought provoking stimulation. My
favorite, which King introduces in the beginning and continues for the
remainder of the book, is the idea that one should “write with the door closed,
[but] rewrite with the door open” (57) .
This concept of first writing
for yourself and then during revisions allowing the world in was something that
I was aware of but had never fully articulated.
Then there it was in King’s writing, as he leans on the literal and
figurative connotations of writing with the door closed for the duration of the
book.
King’s
advice was, refreshingly, never sugarcoated.
He was brutally honest in how authors deal with certain topics. He abhors censoring language in dialogue, but
adversely, he reflects the opinion of many when agreeing that profanity is for
“the ignorant and verbally challenged” (187) . But unlike others, King concedes that
“sometimes you’re just stuck with” vulgarity; if a character would
realistically react in that way to something frustrating, King asserts that the
author has no right to censor those feelings (187) . Honesty and truth-telling is crucial to
writers, according to King, and for this stance I applaud him. He cites many examples of angered readers and
groups sending him letters of complaint due to his language or themes offending
them, but despite objections, King acknowledges that he will continue to be
realistic in his writing. I, for one,
appreciate that, as so many other people and sources try to paint over flaws
and cover blemishes that actually exist in the real world.
While
I enjoyed King’s perspectives on writing, some of his advice was presented
specifically as it applied to him.
Obviously, the novel was a collection of King’s experiences and advice,
but at times I felt as if he was forcing his own process at me, telling me that
because he preferred one way that I must then also do something in that
particular way. For instance, King
promotes writers to, when reading their first drafts, “concentrate on the
mundane housekeeping jobs” (212) . Now clearly, I’m not a bestselling novelist,
but I have been taught, as a writing tutor, that spelling and grammatical
errors are about the lowest possible on the totem pole of priorities. If King wants to sit down and focus on small
errors, he can, but for me, I found the extent to which he detailed of his
approach annoying to read, seeing as I didn’t agree and would never go about
editing in that order.
Although
I was at times overwhelmed by the difference between my process and the process
King promoted, the majority of On Writing
was a pleasure to read. His story and
growth were inspirational and proof of the effort required to successfully
embark upon the journey to become a writer.
I’m still not sure if I’ll run to go pick up It anytime soon, but I did leave On Writing satisfied and with many new nuggets of advice to digest.
Works
Cited
King, Stephen. On Writing. New York: Scribner, 2000. Print.
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