I bought On Writing
by Stephen King–one of his rare detours into the world of nonfiction–earlier this
year after a strong recommendation from Professor Kevin Coyne at the Columbia
Journalism School. I was taking Kevin’s course on “Narrative Writing” then, and
found him to be one of the best teachers I had come across at Columbia. It was
in response to my question that Kevin recommended On Writing as one his favorite books that decode the art and craft
of storytelling.
I bet few writers as successful as King, author of over
fifty books, would be willing to bare their chest of their success mantra, if
there is one at all. It is an endeavor that poses huge risk, for several
reasons: you could come across as saying things that aren’t quite generalizable
(as can be expected in a creative field), or as too preachy (do this because it
worked for me), or worse, too superficial–one among the many new publications
that come out every year promising to transform absolute beginners into great
writers.
Thankfully, King suffers no such delusion. Published in
2000, King wrote On Writing not
because a successful novelist has to
have something to teach others about writing, but to show that popular
novelists care about the language and craft of storytelling too.
True to his craft, King deploys the narrative of his own
life to depict how he came to be a writer, and the lessons that stood him well
through his incredible journey as one of the most successful American writers
of his generation. A big reason why King’s book is a delightful read is the
humility and camaraderie with which he approaches this task. Before you even
realize, you feel like you have settled into a friendly chat with the author
over coffee.
The first part of this book is written as a series of
memories from King’s childhood as he grew up with his elder brother and single
mother, struggling to make ends meet, in Maine, Wisconsin, Indiana, and
Connecticut. Some of these memories seem to have nothing to do with King’s growth
as a writer; yet they provide the backdrop that helps us better relate to King
as a person.
Woven into this tapestry are vignettes that tell us the
story of King the Writer: how he made his first buck at age seven selling four
stories–quarter a piece–to his mom; how he got his first story published in a
horror fanzine in his early teens; his first reporting assignment covering a
high school basketball game for a local publication; his job as an English
teacher in a small town in Massachusetts; and finally, after marriage, two
kids, and a long spell of financial trouble, the sweet success of his first book
Carrie in 1974.
In the second part of the book, King tackles the subject of
writing and storytelling head on. This part is filled with little gems every
few pages. King begins by using the metaphor of a carpenter as he advises, “To
write to your best abilities, it behooves you t0 construct your own toolbox and
then build up enough muscle so you can carry it with you.”
The toolbox should have multiple levels. The topmost level
should contain the most common tools a writer needs–vocabulary and grammar. On
the layer beneath goes form (the way you construct paragraphs), and elements of
style. And underneath them all, are the tools of storytelling.
For each of these tools, King offers sound, practical
advice. For example, on vocabulary, King says “It ain’t how much you’ve got
honey, it’s how you use it.” On style, King gleefully concedes territory to the
1959 Strunk and White classic, The
Elements of Style. He emphasizes the power of using active versus passive
verbs, and cautions against the overuse of adverbs–frequently quoting popular
writers to make his point.
At this point, King launches into an extended conversation–almost
like a Q and A session–with the reader on questions he believes to be important
to aspiring writers, but which rarely get asked. This is easily the section
that makes On Writing stand out as a
classic in its genre, and a must read for any beginner.
King lays out a four level hierarchy of writers: bad writers
at the bottom, followed by competent writers, good writers, and finally, great
writers. As King shares his pearls of wisdom in the next hundred pages or so,
he is driven by a strong belief that “while it is impossible to make a
competent writer out of a bad writer, and while it is equally impossible to
make a great writer out of a good one, it is
possible, with lots of hard work, dedication, and timely help, to make a good
writer out of a merely competent one.”
The surest Commandment King delivers is “read a lot, write a
lot.” Simple as it sounds, it is the bluntness with which King says it that
shows he really means it. King advises four to six hours of serious reading and
writing a day, every day, predicting failure for any wannabe writer who cannot
make time for that.
In subsequent pages, King shares personal details of his
daily routine (he sets a daily target to write 2000 words and doesn’t get up
until he’s done), addresses questions on what one should write (write what you
like, and know best), his thoughts on description, dialogue, and character
development, and his (probably unique) approach to building plots. The book
ends on a personal note as King recounts his tragic road accident in 1999, and
how writing provided him a vehicle to fight his way back.
The most important point King makes that underscores everything
else is that successful writers, like all successful professionals, all share a
deep passion and love for the craft. They write as much for themselves, as they
write to be read.
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