Learning From the Master Storyteller
The process of fiction writing is something that can be elusive, frustrating, and in those rare moments when done right, one of the most rewarding and creative outlets available. Often the process is romanticized; that the ability to write is something magical and the writer must have some special gift in order to have the muse bestowed upon her. And most writers, from the novice to the seasoned pro, live in fear of the muse either never showing up or leaving them in the lurch when most needed. There are hundreds of books on the market that will happily oblige that fear possessed by the novice writer — books that lay out a road map for a sure-fire way to write, the muse be damned.
Fortunately, there is one clear singular voice that cuts through the noise of ‘how to’ books and gives it to the writer straight, and that voice is Stephen King. As he writes in the second forward of On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft (and what will be appreciated greatly by the skeptic that picks it up), “This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit. Fiction writers, present company included, don’t understand very much about what they do — not why it works when it’s good, not why it doesn’t when it’s bad. I figured the shorter the book, the less bullshit.”
As someone who has picked up my fair share of books on writing, and who also prefers to cut through the extraneous noise, I found On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft one of the most refreshing and irreverent books on the subject. Stephen King doesn’t give the reader a laundry list of things that must be done to be a successful writer. In fact, he makes no promises of success. But what he does do is present a clear and honest look, both at his personal history which has made him into the writer he is today, and the habits he developed throughout his career. It is an energizing, pull-no-punches book broken down into four sections: “CV,” “Toolbox,” “On Writing,” and “On Living: A Postscript.” Any writers, novice or professional, would be hard-pressed not to find themselves shaking their head in agreement or understanding when reading this tribute to the craft of writing.
King starts with his “CV,” a history of how he became the writer that he is — what shaped his views and nurtured his creative work ethic. For those of us who only know of Stephen King as the author of riveting, often gruesomely horrifying work, “CV” paints a funny, sometimes painful look at his years growing up, to his first major success with Carrie, to his battle with alcohol and drug addiction. As he states from the beginning, “This is how it was for me, that’s all — a disjointed growth process in which ambition, desire, luck, and a little talent all played a part. Don’t bother trying to read between the lines, and don’t look for a through-line. There are no lines — only snapshots, most out of focus.”
“CV” is a series of short, numbered vignettes that do read as snapshots plucked out of King’s brain in loose chronological order. From his first memories of “imagining I was someone else” as the Ringling Brothers Circus Strongboy, first attempts at writing when he was 5 or 6 years-old during his bouts of illness with ear infections and bad tonsils, and his first story that he submitted for publication in 1960, we get a look at King as a person, not the famous author. Reading this section, it is easy to reminisce about your own childhood as you take in his tales of growing up. I know King tells us there is no through-line, but as with any novel or even a text on writing, we look for parallels to our own stories, our own imagination.
Perhaps the most compelling story is his sale of the novel Carrie. The paperback rights sold for $400,000 — $200,000 of which went to King. Living in a dingy, four room apartment with his wife and two young children, barely eking out a living as an English teacher, that story resonates with anyone who has had dreams of writing the next big novel. The moral we learn is that it isn’t magic, or luck, or talent alone. It is all of those things anchored by hard work and an ability to never give up.
For the reader who requires some level of ‘how to’ advice, King offers his “Toolbox.” He bases this on the analogy of a large three level toolbox that his Uncle Oren had inherited. Only instead of screwdrivers, hammers and wrenches, King offers four levels for a writer’s toolbox: vocabulary, grammar, form, and style, with the two most common tools within easy reach. Vocabulary is on top, and King stresses that while some writers possess large vocabularies, it isn’t necessary if you know how to put the words you have to good use.
The second level of the toolbox is grammar. King’s take on grammar is an excellent one. He states that what he has to contribute to the topic will be minimal, as grammatical principles are absorbed through reading and conversation. The take-away here is that only through saturation — actual reading and writing from the time we are young — can the principles of grammar be fully understood. Which also goes hand in hand with something that King states later in the section “On Writing.” He says, “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.” If fact, he makes that point several times, going so far as to call it the “Great Commandment.” In that saturation is where the rules of grammar are learned, with the added benefit of helping a writer find his or her own voice.
“On Writing” is about habits. Habits that work for King and that likely would work for most writers. It’s about reading, consistent and frequent writing times, and shutting the door during writing, literally if possible. That closing of the door gives the writer permission to focus only on the craft, as King puts it, going into a “creative sleep.” It’s about setting goals for each writing session regardless of whether the muse shows up or not. Because eventually, with consistency, the muse will arrive. But that can only happen when the writer gives time and effort to the process.
“On Living: A Postscript,” was added after King had recovered from his life-threatening accident in June of 1999, when he was hit by a van while walking along Route 5 in Maine. The retelling of the incident could be something out of a Stephen King novel, which he actually thinks upon hearing details of the man who hit him weeks later. It’s harrowing, emotional, and astonishing that King can remember so much of what happened to him from the time of the accident and being air-lifted to the hospital, to finally being wheeled into the operating room.
The surgeries to reconstruct the broken bones and the subsequent physical therapy meant that it was five weeks before King could return to writing — to finish On Writing. It was a painful time not only physically, but also because he had doubts about finishing the book. The first writing session after the accident lasted an excruciating hour and forty minutes and as King says, “There was no inspiration that first afternoon, only a kind of stubborn determination and the hope that things would get better if I kept at it.” That sentence speaks volumes. The dedication, the need to write when in such an adverse situation should be inspiration to any writer. I know that I’ll never complain about writers block again.
If a book is judged to be successful based on the number of notes written in the margins of a well-worn copy, or the numerous highlighted quotes that grab your attention and give you inspiration, then On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft is that book. Reading Stephen King’s reflections on life as a writer is, for the novice, like sitting at the feet of a master. He makes the art of writing a possibility, encouraging us that, “You can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will. Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink. Drink and be filled up.”
Cheers, Mr. King. Cheers.
