I have spend a good many years—too many, I think—being ashamed about what I write. —Stephen King
I spent most of my July Fourth sprawled out on my bed absorbing Stephen King’s “On Writing: A Memoir Of The Craft.”
When I read how he felt ashamed of his own work for so many years it hit a nerve with me. I’ve struggled myself with writing something “worthwhile” versus writing what I love.
It was this past May when I attended the conference for horror writers and joined HWA that made me finally come to grips with who I am.
I was surrounded by people who thought much the same way I did, and the feeling was liberating. For a long weekend I laughed at things you don’t say in polite company and I reveled in the morbid, the bizarre and the horrible. I came to grips with who I am.
How appropriate that I would read King’s words on Independence Day because I feel like I have recently earned my own freedom to be myself—writing something “worthwhile” and writing what I love have become the same.
