So here we are, September 21st, 2017. Stephen King is 70.
First of all: Happy Birthday, Steve. (Just FYI, I don't know him personally, I just read that he prefers Steve. I try to use that whenever addressing him as though he were here, even though my instinct is to call him Mr. King)
Second of all: Thanks.
On July 3rd, 1991, I was 13 and you were not yet 44. On that day, I did some volunteer work for the library in my hometown setting up for their annual independence day book fair. As payment for my services I was allowed to choose any books I wanted. I chose a novelization of one of the Friday the 13th movies. It even had a selection of black and white stills form the movie in the middle. It sucked. It was unreadable even for a 13 year old boy looking for some blood and guts and boobs. The other book I chose was this:
a 15 year old paperback. I had to hide it from my parents because my dad thought Stephen King was a pornographer. I read it under cover of darkness in a week.
With that book, I went from reading the Hardy Boys and Caldecott winners from the kid's area at the library to reading grown up stuff.
Salem's Lot terrified me. I remember pinching the pages between my fingers to the point that some of them ripped. My pulse pounded just in anticipation of reading it. And when I got to the end, I wanted more.
MORE!!!
Because of this one book, I read a thousand more. I read a few Dean Koontz but that wore thin pretty fast. Ditto Robin Cook, Michael Crichton, John Grisham. All the other prolific/popular writers seemed to be more or less repeating themselves in story, style, structure. Not so Stephen King. I noticed he reused a few phrases. In the early years, it seemed that someone's flesh would run like tallow once a story. But it didn't seem he was reusing ideas or forms. Each book was fresh and I couldn't get enough. I made myself a deal: I would never read any King books back to back. It would be too easy to rip through the entire Stephen King library.
In those gaps, I discovered Chuck Palahniuk, Dracula, Frankenstein, Lonesome Dove, The Art Of Racing in the Rain, Terry Brooks, Ray Bradbury ....
Through it all, I learned most about authenticity. It's strange to think that a man known mostly for supernatural horrors taught me more about authenticity than anyone else. The stories were surreal and honest and never felt like someone was trying to push me to think one thing or another. They just made me think.
Then, of course, I found my love of writing. I briefly toyed with trying to write heavy, important stuff. But that's just shit. I like camp. I like accessibility. I like chills and thrills. I like vulgarity. I like making you think. I'm not going to tell you what comes after this life, but i'll sure as hell give you the opportunity to ponder it.
I try to tell scary stories. Sometimes I succeed.
Finding 'Salem's Lot at age 13 was perfect timing for me. I was a very sheltered boy with a big imagination. I was ready for bigger things and I feel very lucky to have found Stephen King that day. I also feel lucky to have been able to distinguish between 'Salem's Lot and shitty book based off a mediocre horror movie. A year earlier and I might have preferred the one with pictures in the middle - then who knows what might have become of me.
So, Mr. King - um, Steve - Happy Birthday!
And Thanks!
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