This is a must read for writers, readers and Stephen King fans. Fully laden with inspiration to walk the walk and start that journey of writing a storThis is a must read for writers, readers and Stephen King fans. Fully laden with inspiration to walk the walk and start that journey of writing a story of you're own from short story to a full novel. Imagine great writers of the past like Dickens around to give advice to aspiring writers it's a real opportunity to grasp.
This man, Stephen King, worked hard to make himself into a writer and had sheer determination, from working all hours to pay his college education to writing his first stories in a trailer. He was a single parent child with one brother. His life story is what dreams are made of, he defeated the single parent upbringing stereotype and made things work. When he was awaiting that call from his agent on selling the paperback rights for Carrie he was only expecting around a $40'000 mark and received an astonishing $400'000 payout. He really loves to write and does mention it was 'never about the money.' His marriage is solid and that helped his career, he met his wife Tabitha at a poetry workshop and both their loves for writing was an important ingredient to their marriage. From a millworker to one of the greatest writers. He had written Running Man in a week and writes one word at a time, he tells us in his book that it's all about the story never the plot. Write what you know, fresh images and simple vocabulary believable characters graceful narration, and truth telling all the hallmarks of good writing. It is really nice to hear him say that if you don't have time to read you don't have time to write, a bad story can teach the reader so much on how not to write a story. Reading is an essential core to successful story writing. As I ponder all this advice I am also looking to try and start writing a story. He says that 1000 words a day is good and to all importantly have that room to write, cut yourself off from distractions, immerse yourself and close that door to the world and write one word at a time.
It was interesting to hear of his time in London at The Brown's Hotel. He wrote at Rudyard Kipling's desk the first words of his novel Misery. Here is a photo of the table and what he said. "I wrote most of Misery by hand, sitting at Kipling's desk in Brown's Hotel in London.....Then I found out he died at the desk. That spooked me, so I quit the hotel." ---From a 1998 interview with journalist Peter Conrad
Close that door, close out the world and immerse yourself in writing your story!
Some quotes from the book.
"Read to measure ourselves against the good and the greats and to what can be done."
"If you don't have the time to read you don't have the time to write." REVIEWHERE TOO....more
This story is from the shores of Finland a police procedural. The murder that starts the story is very brutal and the victim is a lady from an ethnicThis story is from the shores of Finland a police procedural. The murder that starts the story is very brutal and the victim is a lady from an ethnic minority, she comes from a people who have lost their homeland to civil war, the author covers well their cultural practices and the religious rights of various parts of their religion. The murder brings out old wounds to the main protagonists life and one main thorn in is side becomes his ex-wife. The main protagonist is a detective married to an American woman. His partner tries to settle into the Finnish life with some difficulties one being the language barrier and another the lack of 24hr sunlight or darkness, which they experience at various times of the year. The web of suspicion becomes bigger as the death toll rises and a few more lives are claimed. The lifestyle and previous partners of the first woman killed are investigated and a religious fathers honor becomes tainted. The author turned out quite an interesting novel and the plot keeps you hooked. I can see now why this was on the short list for the Edgar awards....more
Upon waking from lethargy or sleep he plunges our protagonist into total darkness a dark chamber of death and torture. Rats and a pendulum of terror aUpon waking from lethargy or sleep he plunges our protagonist into total darkness a dark chamber of death and torture. Rats and a pendulum of terror are his immediate horrors as the swing of death of the pendulum lowers and increases in speed the beads of sweat upon the characters forehead increase in the terror he is experiencing. A masterpiece of writing from Edgar Allan Poe, the creator of the dark tale and splendid writing. He really places you in the moment and you feel the air of dread and fear. Poe is a cut above many writers with his exceptional use of the English language and psychologically connects so well with the experience and emotions. This was short but a work far greater than many 400 page novels could achieve. Why it took me so long to give this story a read? Truly diabolical, Poe I do apologise sincerely!
"I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence, the dread sentence of death, was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears."
"At length, with a wild desperation at heart, I quickly unclosed my eyes. My worst thoughts, then, were confirmed. The blackness of eternal night encompassed me. I struggled for breath. The intensity of the darkness seemed to oppress and stifle me. The atmosphere was intolerably close. I still lay quietly, and made effort to exercise my reason."
Book description When his young son is brutally attacked on his way home from school, James Greer decides he’s had enough. Disillusioned with London liBook description When his young son is brutally attacked on his way home from school, James Greer decides he’s had enough. Disillusioned with London life and concerned for the safety of his family, he feels the time has come to move somewhere a little quieter. A chance discovery leads him Brodmaw Bay -a picturesque village on the coast of Cornwall. The locals are friendly and welcoming, if a little eccentric, and James is convinced he’s found the perfect home for his family.
But was it really sheer coincidence that drew him there? There seems to be an inexplicable connection between the village and Jame’s wife. And when strange sightings and dark nightmares start plaguing his children, it soon becomes clear that a greater and more sinister force is at work. Perhaps the village isn’t so much welcoming them as luring them. To something ancient and evil. As it has lured others before…
My review The author writes this dark tale well and you really get into the plight of this london family from the offset. The story starts with an incident that is very common in todays day and age, mugging. Many Londoners have done the same as this protagonist and up and left the lost London to the sticks and greener pastures. He chooses Broadmaw Bay or should i say it chose him to be part of its rightful populace, i love his descriptions of London and Cornwall. He immerses you insidiously with an over shadowing dark presence of horrors and the dead. The House of Lost Souls his other novel looks also very creepy and haunting. This was a creepy and haunting read from a solid writer, who is one to watch put for. Also here on my webpage...more
The Martin Luther king days of the 1960's that's the time-line you are transported to in this novel. An outstanding work involving history, corruptionThe Martin Luther king days of the 1960's that's the time-line you are transported to in this novel. An outstanding work involving history, corruption, G-men, mobsters, Klux Klan and the Martin Luther King.
The main protagonist a black male one who started out as an account for Martin Luther King's circle gradually climbed the ladder and had the choice of pickings for company, the FBI, a black mobster, the trusted inner circle of the MLKing and one lovely beauty of a singer. This story is more than just behind the scenes of King's office, it's has a noir thriller feel a throwback to the writings of Hammett and especially James M.Cain. A compelling story Its gripping and written with some real style of writing I like. It is a first person narrative and does not waste a word. Murder, racism, love and money. The men lust for women and money and the main protagonist is just desperate to win the heart of one lady that's off limits.There's plenty of heart here and human mistakes set in a time of struggle, it is shocking at times the spin involved and the mistakes that Luther King and the movement made. Stephen King has done so well with his time travel novel 11.22.63 involving some history from the days of Kennedy and here Rashad Harrison has done so well representing the Martin Luther King days. The story ends at the well known Fall of King. This is one you are bound to like.
"You don't owe him nothing," he says. "What, you think you and him are friends? You think you're some type of civil rights leader? You're not with them-you're with me . Me and you are the same. That's you're problem, little man, you don't realise your'e one of us. You still got yourself caught up in some bourgeois Negro dream. You want to be an accountant, a respectable member of the Negro community. Nice car. Nice house. You dream of a day when you can walk down the same side of he street as a white man and he'll tip his hat at you as if you were the same as him, that shit won't happen. There ain't no place out there for you as some Negro professional. You bourgeois Negroes still believe in fantasy of a black paradise, where all the businesses and banks are Negro, and the money is Negro too. That's a dream. All the assets of all Negro banks combined can't match a country bank in Kansas. Look around you. Open your eyes. You throw cocktail parties society parties, and debutante balls, and you speak proper English, hoping that a white man will look at you one day and say, 'you know what? These darkies ain't so bad.' It won't happen. Stop believing in fantasies. There's only one Negro business, and that's vice. I'm talking dope, liquor, gambling, and pussy. That's big business, little man. That's how a nigger makes some real money In a white man's world. That's how you get your pockets stuffed. Real money, not this fake shit you motherf***** chase. Meanwhile, I'm over here making real money, providing real services. My customers come to see me with confidence. They can relax, because they know I'll be here night after night. When they put down there money for a good time, they're investing in their sanity. I don't know what you Negroes believe in, but it's a f***** dream. I don't mean to be so hard on you, little man. I understand you're motivations. Even though we have different approaches, we want the same things. I'm just trying to show you the right way to do it. You've got to think realistically."
"Thank you for your candour, Count. Maybe you're right. You've given a lot to think about. But I need a chance to work it over."
"Look at my back." He removes his shirt and shows me a patchwork of scars across his shoulder blades. "A white man did this to me when I was a boy. Caught me trying to steal chickens to feed my family. I still thank him for it, though. Changed my life. 'Cause that's when I learned to stop trying' to make it in this world- I learned I have to make my own. You are in my world. I am a hunter, and boy, you are scarin' the game away. You know what that mean? You taking food out of my mouth! You causin' me to starve. And starvin'....that's a slow death. Is that what you want? You want me to die a slow death?" He folds his shirt neatly on the table. He then grabs his pistol and cocks it at my temple."Is that what you want? For me to die slow? Cause I don't wish that on you. I want you to die quick as hell."
"when you talk to Martin, he's engaging and effervescent. His mastery of such an array of weighty subjects and his interest in you can be both impressive and overwhelming at times. He be blind not see how much people expect of him. Even the innocent of interactions demand that he charm, impress, and enlighten and prove himself worthy of such adulation. But when the conversation's over, and the spotlights of admiration are dimmed or cast elsewhere, I can almost see him fading, moving through the SLC like a gauzy semblance of his public self.
For him, danger lurks everywhere. It was this way from the beginning, but he seemed to be aware of the romantic quality of his adventures, accepting his responsibility to the movement like some gallant knight savoring not only the victory but also the significance of the battle. You can see it in the footage that accompanied his arrival on the national stage, in that first mug shot following his arrest in Montgomery, or when the police officers slammed his shoulder into the counter of a booking station right in front of Coretta-there's still a roguish glint in his eye. Like the photos of World War II vets broken, beaten, bloody, but smiling from the scorched rubble of Gothic ruins.
Something changed after Harlem. He must have looked down at that blade in his chest, it's ornament handle snapped off and staining the autographed copies of Stride Toward Freedom with his blood, and thought how trivial it is to put your life on the line for a book signing. No blistering water hoses or prodded dogs and their angry masters, no marchers, no protesters-just an endless parade of stargazers. Yes, after that, he was different. Every day every hour, every second-all of it was borrowed time."