Today I’ve had a lazy one.
Beer in hand. Out in whatever sun we’ve had…
(It’s England. We don’t get much sun, especially up north haha)
Ripping through Stephen King’s new book and figuring how this guy basically stripmines his own fucked up past to create the insane legacy he has so far.
I mean King doesn’t just write scary stories.
He takes every demon, every addiction, every moment of pure what the actual fuck from his life and turns it into literary nightmare fuel. And here’s the thing…
(lean in close, I’m gonna tell you a secret)
…that’s exactly why his shit works.
The Shining was about wrestling with his own alcoholism, putting Jack Torrance through the wringer of addiction while supernatural forces tear at the edges.
You can feel it in every page where Jack convinces himself that just one drink won’t hurt.
Is it fiction?
Or is it autobiography wearing a monster mask?
Monsters aren’t really the point in his books. It’s just the people…
You can have all the killer clowns and rabid dogs and possessed cars you want.
But if your characters are cardboard cutouts? Your story’s deader than the cat in Pet Sematary church.
King builds his characters from the inside out. Take Carrie White. Is she “telekinetic girl goes postal.” ?
She’s every awkward kid who got picked on, every teenager whose body betrayed them at the worst possible moment, every person who fantasised about making their tormentors pay…
Hell, he probably was one of these kids.
He makes you care about these people BEFORE he feeds them to the meat grinder.
His characters carry the weight of real trauma because he carries it too.
So once I get through this one.
I’ll try and break it down.
This is what Friday’s are for.
Stephen Walker.
P.S. I’m the cooler Stephen.