My Friend With The Giant Baby recommended to me the book “On Writing” by Stephen King, as a way to motivate myself about my own writing. Now, King wrote the book about 10 years ago, but apparently it’s still rather relevant today. Not a big fan of Stephen King, I was hesitant, but then I realized that My Friend With The Giant Baby wouldn’t steer me wrong… so I went out and bought the book.

Last night I lay in bed and did my best to devour the entire book in one reading. Ok, maybe that’s not totally accurate, but as someone who basically goes to bed, reads 2 pages of a book then makes The Cheerleader I Live With laugh when I fall asleep and the book hits me in the face… reading 30 pages of “On Writing” is a momentous thing. I didn’t want to stop reading about writing! It’s the only book by Stephen King that I’ve ever really enjoyed (I know I’m in the minority here), and I can’t wait to read more of it! I was going to save it for when I go on vacation next week, but I highly doubt that it won’t be finished by Sunday morning.

It is inspiring. It’s witty, inventive, honest and inspiring. And I’ve only read 40 pages!

Funny how writing about a reading a book about writing about writing makes me want to read and write.

Gotta’ go!

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