As a teenager, I went through a phase of devouring Stephen King’s novels. It’s fair to say he was my favourite author for a long time. While I haven’t read as many of his books in the years since – though I do still pick them up occasionally – he was the first author that I consciously recognised as a formative influence on my writing. As an aspiring young novelist, this naturally led to me picking up a copy of his non-fiction book On Writing, eager to learn all the secrets of the master’s craft.
It was a good read. The book is part memoir of King’s life, part writing guide. At the time, I recall thinking this was an odd mix for a writing book, but upon re-reading it recently (actually listening to the audiobook while walking – King is an excellent narrator), I gained a whole new appreciation for the way it was structured. I loved it. Not only is it my favourite Stephen King book, but it’s an incredibly insightful look into the nature of writing that I think few authors hit on.
To start off, I’d say that On Writing is worth a read even if you don’t have much interest in writing yourself. The first half is largely a biography full of excerpts from King’s life that are as colourful as the characters he draws. The latter half concerns itself with the writing process, which is an informal and impassioned discussion of the subject – sort of like a lecture from your favourite college professor. The last few chapters that focus on getting published may be a bit dry and utilitarian, but you can always stop there if your interest wanes. The one negative about the book (through no fault of King’s own) is that this segment is somewhat outdated, having been written 25 years ago in an industry that hadn’t yet seen the digital revolution and the rise of independent publishing.
The practical advice isn’t really where the book shines, though. If you’ve ever dabbled in the writing community, you’ve probably heard a lot of the basics he covers before (I’d even go so far as to attribute the prevalence of some of them to this book itself!). What struck me more than anything is how organically King articulates the importance of playing to your strengths rather than spreading your skillset thin. I don’t think this is something he ever states outright, but through the way he talks about writing with confidence, finding motivation, and letting ideas take on a life of their own, he paints a very clear picture of how and why he writes the way he does. Namely, by focusing on what he’s good at.
King’s method is one that’s brought him tremendous success, yet he’s also somewhat notorious for the mixed critical response to his work. This is the part that really fascinates me, because you’d think that a best-selling author with an excellent understanding of the craft and a rigorous work ethic would be able to avoid a lot of the pitfalls his critics identify in his work. There’s no accounting for taste, of course, but even I, as a fan of Stephen King, agree with a lot of the common criticisms of his abrupt endings, uneven pacing, and lack of plotting.
So why hasn’t such a skilled author ever put in the time to smooth over these potholes in his writing style? That’s a question On Writing answers by illustrating how, if King refocused his efforts on shoring up his weaknesses, he would lose the spark that plays into his greatest strengths.
One of my favourite passages in the book goes into how much King hates plotting. He considers it inorganic, cumbersome, and forced; a script his characters have to stick to like bad actors rather than being true to themselves. I love this section because I couldn’t disagree more. I’m a writer who sees great value in connecting paths of a story like strings on a corkboard, working in setups and payoffs, planning out arcs, and drawing narrative threads together into an escalating series of peaks and valleys. I like to know where a story ends before I start rather than letting the narrative drift where the wind takes it.
Yet despite my polar opposite perspective on the subject of plotting, as I listened to King talk about it, I found myself nodding along and agreeing with everything he said. Because I’m not trying to write Stephen King novels, and I’m not Stephen King. If I was, my method just wouldn’t work. There’s a unique quality to King’s writing – the voice, the characters, the situations – that springs from his free-flowing writing style. He explains how this forms a large part of his motivation, and how he struggles to finish books if he tries to plan things out too strictly.
So rather than trying to smooth over the potholes, King leans into his strengths. He focuses on continuing to do what he does well rather than fretting over the things he could do better. He strives to be a good Stephen King rather than a mediocre version of Charles Dickens. This, I think, is the takeaway lesson from On Writing that cuts to the heart of what makes a good author.
I’ve always felt that the worst rating you can give a piece of media is 5/10. It’s not really bad. It’s not really good. It just exists. It might have staved off the boredom for a few hours, but you’ll probably forget about it in a week’s time. It’s not an engrossing masterpiece like The Godfather or a hilarious trainwreck like The Room. It didn’t inspire you, it didn’t teach you anything, it didn’t give you something to talk about; it didn’t enrich your life in any way. Most truly entertaining stories take the risk of being unpalatable to some for the sake of enthralling others rather than shooting for a safe middle ground.
On Writing’s greatest lesson is that you should play to your strengths, even if that means exposing yourself to pitfalls. Tell stories your way, with passion, honesty, and enthusiasm. Do so with an understanding of the formal craft, but don’t let those structures hobble you. Don’t be afraid to end the story with a deus ex machina and move on to the next project if the alternative is leaving it on the shelf for a year humming and hawing. If you find a process that works for you, treasure it and build on it.
Writing has always been a deeply personal craft, and despite the many generations we’ve spent trying to nail down a set of scaffolds with which to structure it, I have a hard time thinking of many good books that don’t drop the ball in some areas so they can shoot for the moon in others.
While my youthful love affair with Stephen King’s work is in the past, he’s an author I’ve always had immense respect for as a pragmatic craftsman and a general down-to-earth guy. In one of the passages from On Writing that stuck with me over the years, he compares writing techniques to tools in a craftsman’s kit. That’s the picture On Writing painted of King to me: a craftsman working hard at his job, balancing intuition with expertise, minding the purpose of his tools, but always willing to throw them aside for the sake of finishing something with a hand-made touch.
Perhaps that’s why I have an affinity for hard-working craftspeople in my novels.
Kelly River 