Monthly Archives: January 2013
My Love Affair with Stephen King
First of all, when I say I love Stephen King, I’m talking about his writing. Way back in college, if I’d actually gotten the chance to meet him before getting involved with my husband, things might have been different. But he’s married, I’m married… You can see the dilemma. Doctor Phil would hardly approve.
Secondly, when I talk about his writing, I’ve never received compensation. I *wish* he cared enough about my opinion to compensate me for it. You can assume that any books and/or authors I mention on my website or blog are all automatic five stars for me, because I can’t be bothered reading them otherwise. I’m certainly not going to waste valuable airtime by talking about something or someone I didn’t enjoy. (Although I’m sure my family, who listen to me complain all day long about any number of people and things, will disagree.)
So. All that out of the way…
The SK affair goes back to before my university days, although it wasn’t until then that I found like-minded fans.
Pet Sematary is the first and only book to ever give me nightmares. The Stand was creepy as heck. I loved The Talisman. Cujo was the first book to make me want to see the movie (and then kind of sorry I did.)Those are off the top of my head. A neighbor was also a fan. He and I used to swap SK books back and forth. Here’s a testament to SK’s storytelling abilities – I tried to get him to read the Thieves’ World books (another favorite series) but he told me “I don’t read fantasy. I like books that are real.” (Insert raised eyebrow here.)
A good friend of mine, and fellow Stephen King fan, dropped a bombshell shortly before Christmas. She knows where he lives. She sat on that little gem for a really long time, although she swears up and down that she’s told me before. We’ve been friends for thirty years so that may well be true. I’ve been accused more than once of obliviousness.
But never mind. All is forgiven, because I talked her into doing stalker stuff for me. I had to promise never to mention her name. Not to worry, Carolyn S. Your secret’s safe with me.
So here it is, a picture of Stephen King’s house.
Is this not a fabulous home for a horror writer? (HEEERRRE’S Johnny!!! REDRUM, anyone?)
This, folks, is a true friend. You don’t want to know what she had to do to get this for me. She walked up to it and took a photo from the sidewalk, like probably a million other people a year do. No CSIS moment here. (Unlike that conversation we had about disposing of bodies. Good thing I never mentioned your name, right, Carolyn S.?)
So any other horror fans out there?