Leafing through Stephen King’s ON WRITING for the umpteenth time, I was drawn to the section in the back called “On Living: A Postscript”.
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The postscript is a retelling of the day he was struck by a car while walking in rural Maine. The writing is stark and a little bit funny in that way only King can do with the darker stuff.
I had heard about his accident when it happened in 1999 and I know I’ve read this part of his book before, but something about it resonates differently with me today. I guess it’s true that who you are and where you are in your own life shapes the way you receive what you read. Thankfully, the world wasn’t finished with Mr. King on that day in June 13 years ago.
ON WRITING is one of those books that you can move forward and backward through, I am not sure I’ve read the whole thing in order. Although, now that I’ve restarted it from the First Foreword, I think I’ll move through it this time in order.
The book is about so many things, his life and stories he remembers from his childhood. And of course, writing. He calls it a Memoir of the Craft, and it is indeed that. King talks in the early pages about how there are so many books out there on writing that he didn’t want to write that book.
Instead he describes his book as “my attempt to show how one writer is formed. Not how one writer was made. I don’t believe writers can be made, either by circumstance or by self-will (although I did believe those things once).” (emphasis his)
All in all, it is an interesting read and I think any fan of his, writer or no, would enjoy what’s between these pages.