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June 2nd, 2009, 08:43 PM
Has anybody else had trouble finding Salem's Lot? I have been to as many of my local bookstores as I can find (apparently people in Baltimore don't read too much), and the story is the same. I find the Horror section, I scan three or so shelves of King titles... no Lot. I check again, yup, nothing. I go to the information or checkout and ask, "Is Salem's Lot out of print or something?"
I am led back to the King section "No, No. We have it... It's right.... hmm. Did you want me to order that for you?"
I say no, because I like for things to happen that way, but what's up?
My relationship with Stephen King is in a strange sort of phase right now. Of course it started when I was a Kid. I was born in '81, and I can remember I was young, probably 5 or so, being babysat by my cousin, which is scary enough as it is. I mean they didn't use ice cubes, they used these weird plastic balls, and the cups smelled funny. And she puts on Cujo. That was some scary ****. I remember hiding under the blanket until I dozed off.
Then I remember being at my friends house and he had a copy of The Shining. That was so fundamentally terrifying for me, I told him I had a stomach ache, called my mother, and went home in the middle.
Probably the first one I sat through all the way was Pet Semetary, and that picture of Zelda with no spine or something, and her face. Holy ****.
Anyway as I got older I started reading more non-fiction, looking really smart, and philisophical and stuff, stopped watching tv, forgot about stephen and stand by me, shawshank, children of the green lawnmower, etc.
Years went by until a couple of years ago, I'm in school, in an apt. with some guys and I start reading again. No bullshit, no literary fiction, no pretense, just stories. What happens, I get different seasons, I swallow The Body whole, I slurp up Rita Hayworth. Then I get to Apt Pupil... I read it. I'm livid. I start cursing out Stephen King to anyone who wants to talk letters. "He's a creep, and an *******. He takes this character, totally ****s him (and you) up, and doesn't tell you why. It's like he's staring down into this fish bowl, trying to think what he can do to make you (the reader) feel ****ed up." I wouldn't touch anything from King, wouldn't look at it.
"What an *******."
But then these fantasy titles start popping up at my local used bookthrift. I was in Israel at the time, and I wonder if they were just being released there for the first time. I don't buy them, cause they're new, and expensive, but I keep my eye out.
Eventually an old ratty paperback of The Gunslinger shows up in the dollar (really five shekel) rack. I fight myself. "The guy's an *******, don't touch it." "Yeah, but this is fantasy..." etc.
I buy it. I'm totally blown away. That desert, these ghosts. Who the **** gave Stephen King a paintbrush, or better yet, who gave him by brain as a canvas?
I guess we both did.
Then I got married, finished school, worked a while as a butcher, got cut by some sociopathic mother ****er, made a scene, and was politely asked to please quit.
Now I've been writing. And I find a book by none other on the subject. And you know what? He seems like a decent guy. He helps people out, he has contact with struggling writers who he merges into one to illustrate a point. He even asks me to send him my work! Holy ****. This guy is the most human celebrity ever! He even understands that some people can only manage a pizza pie to celebrate.
Now I'm going, I'm inspired to write like he says. 1000 words a day, some days they're rolling out, some days I have to use the hand pump, but I'm doing it.
This post is basically the sketch of a letter I was going to send to Stephen, or Steve I'm learning he is called. I planned on sending it along with either my manuscript, or a request for him to take a look. He's human, after all. I signed up to this list to vent a little about Salem's Lot, and what do I find? No more On Writing assignment, no more struggling writers, I hear about liability and plagiarism. Oh well.
I wonder if this counts towards my 1000 words.
Thanks for Reading,
Moe
I am led back to the King section "No, No. We have it... It's right.... hmm. Did you want me to order that for you?"
I say no, because I like for things to happen that way, but what's up?
My relationship with Stephen King is in a strange sort of phase right now. Of course it started when I was a Kid. I was born in '81, and I can remember I was young, probably 5 or so, being babysat by my cousin, which is scary enough as it is. I mean they didn't use ice cubes, they used these weird plastic balls, and the cups smelled funny. And she puts on Cujo. That was some scary ****. I remember hiding under the blanket until I dozed off.
Then I remember being at my friends house and he had a copy of The Shining. That was so fundamentally terrifying for me, I told him I had a stomach ache, called my mother, and went home in the middle.
Probably the first one I sat through all the way was Pet Semetary, and that picture of Zelda with no spine or something, and her face. Holy ****.
Anyway as I got older I started reading more non-fiction, looking really smart, and philisophical and stuff, stopped watching tv, forgot about stephen and stand by me, shawshank, children of the green lawnmower, etc.
Years went by until a couple of years ago, I'm in school, in an apt. with some guys and I start reading again. No bullshit, no literary fiction, no pretense, just stories. What happens, I get different seasons, I swallow The Body whole, I slurp up Rita Hayworth. Then I get to Apt Pupil... I read it. I'm livid. I start cursing out Stephen King to anyone who wants to talk letters. "He's a creep, and an *******. He takes this character, totally ****s him (and you) up, and doesn't tell you why. It's like he's staring down into this fish bowl, trying to think what he can do to make you (the reader) feel ****ed up." I wouldn't touch anything from King, wouldn't look at it.
"What an *******."
But then these fantasy titles start popping up at my local used bookthrift. I was in Israel at the time, and I wonder if they were just being released there for the first time. I don't buy them, cause they're new, and expensive, but I keep my eye out.
Eventually an old ratty paperback of The Gunslinger shows up in the dollar (really five shekel) rack. I fight myself. "The guy's an *******, don't touch it." "Yeah, but this is fantasy..." etc.
I buy it. I'm totally blown away. That desert, these ghosts. Who the **** gave Stephen King a paintbrush, or better yet, who gave him by brain as a canvas?
I guess we both did.
Then I got married, finished school, worked a while as a butcher, got cut by some sociopathic mother ****er, made a scene, and was politely asked to please quit.
Now I've been writing. And I find a book by none other on the subject. And you know what? He seems like a decent guy. He helps people out, he has contact with struggling writers who he merges into one to illustrate a point. He even asks me to send him my work! Holy ****. This guy is the most human celebrity ever! He even understands that some people can only manage a pizza pie to celebrate.
Now I'm going, I'm inspired to write like he says. 1000 words a day, some days they're rolling out, some days I have to use the hand pump, but I'm doing it.
This post is basically the sketch of a letter I was going to send to Stephen, or Steve I'm learning he is called. I planned on sending it along with either my manuscript, or a request for him to take a look. He's human, after all. I signed up to this list to vent a little about Salem's Lot, and what do I find? No more On Writing assignment, no more struggling writers, I hear about liability and plagiarism. Oh well.
I wonder if this counts towards my 1000 words.
Thanks for Reading,
Moe