[No one asked, but Stephen King, in my opinion, is America’s greatest living writer. The reason? He keeps trying new things. He’s not content to just milk his horror brand for all it’s worth. I don’t think he has a cadre of 25 interns churning out stuff for him. Plus, he lives in East Bumfuk (like me), roots for the Red Sox (like me), and plays a shitty rhythm guitar (like me). Also, we’re the same age. He’s the real deal (like me). Damn, the guy writes good, too. Me? Not so much. SB SM]
Stephen King’s top writing rules:
Stephen King has offered a wealth of advice for aspiring writers throughout his career, most notably in his book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. While the exact number of rules or tips can vary depending on the interpretation, some of the most frequently cited and influential points include:
- Read a lot and write a lot. King emphasizes that these are the two fundamental activities for becoming a better writer. Reading exposes you to various styles and techniques, while consistent writing develops your skills.
- Don’t use passive voice. King believes active voice is stronger and more direct, making writing more engaging. He contrasts “The meeting will be held at seven o’clock” (passive) with “The meeting’s at seven” (active).
- Avoid adverbs. King famously states, “The adverb is not your friend”. He suggests that relying heavily on adverbs can weaken writing and that stronger verbs should be used instead.
- But don’t obsess over perfect grammar. While grammar is important, King prioritizes telling a compelling story and making the reader feel welcome, rather than aiming for absolute grammatical perfection.
- The magic is in you. King argues that fear is at the root of much bad writing. He encourages writers to trust their instincts and unique voice.
- Eliminate distractions. Find a dedicated writing space free from interruptions like phones, TV, or video games, allowing for focused creative work.
- Write every single day. Consistency is crucial for building momentum and developing a writing habit.
- Stick to your own style. Don’t try to imitate other writers; find and cultivate your authentic voice.
- Take a break. After finishing a draft, step away from it for a period (King suggests a minimum of six weeks) to return with fresh eyes for revision.
- “Kill your darlings” during revision. Be ruthless in editing, removing unnecessary words, phrases, or even scenes that don’t serve the story, even if you are fond of them. King suggests aiming to cut around 10% from the first draft during revision.
(My wife’s prettier. SB SM)
Stephen King on his marriage:
One summer night in 1970, I rolled over and asked the girl next to me if she wanted to get married.
— We’ll talk about it in the morning, she said. Right now, I need to sleep.
The next day she told me marriage was probably a bad idea — in fact, a really bad idea — but she agreed anyway. She was right: it was a bad idea. Tabitha Spruce was still in school, I had graduated but couldn’t find a teaching job. I was working in an industrial laundry for barely more than minimum wage. We had student loans, no savings, and no benefits. I owned two pairs of underwear, two pairs of jeans, one pair of shoes — and a drinking problem. Still, we picked a date: January 2, 1971.
That fall, we took a bus to Bangor, Maine, to a well-known jewelry store. We asked to see the cheapest set of wedding bands they had. The salesman, with a perfect professional smile free of any judgment, showed us two thin gold bands for $15. I pulled out my wallet — attached to my belt loop with a biker chain — and paid. On the way home, I joked, “Bet these will leave a green mark on our fingers.”
Tabby, sharp as ever, shot back, “I hope we wear them long enough to find out.”
About ten weeks later, we exchanged those rings. My suit was borrowed and too big, my tie looked like something Jerry Garcia would have worn. Tabby wore a light blue pantsuit that had been a bridesmaid’s outfit at a friend’s wedding months before. She was stunning — and scared to death. Our reception? Tuna sandwiches and soda, in my old Buick with a dying transmission. I kept running my thumb over the ring on my finger.
A few years later — three, maybe five — Tabby was washing dishes when her ring slipped off and went down the drain. I tore apart the plumbing but found nothing except a hairpin. The ring was gone. By then, I could afford to buy her a finer one, but she cried over losing that first real ring. It wasn’t worth even eight dollars — but it was priceless.
Life’s been kind to me in my career. I’ve written bestsellers and earned millions. But I’ve never taken off that cheap ring since the day my wife, with trembling hands and shining eyes, slid it onto my finger. Yes, I know — it sounds like a country song. But life often does.
That ring reminds me of our tiny three-room apartment, the creaky floors, the noisy fridge, the winter drafts, and the sign above the sink that read: FRIEND, WE’RE OUT OF GAS. It reminds me of who we were (two crazy kids) and what we had (almost nothing). It reminds me that price and value are not the same thing.
It’s been 42 years now — and still, no green mark.
– Stephen King –