Monday, November 3, 2008

Stephen King

Stephen King is an incredibly prolific writer.  An Raather, good at it too.  (Raather is on purpose, read it with a nasal snooty tone and you'll have it right.)  I sat up reading his book "On Writing"
the other night until waaay too late.  I find his writing very engaging.

Here's the rub.  I've only read a couple of his many novels, and those gave me nightmares. Consequently, I'm not likely to read any more.  It's a pity, but it can't be helped.  I have enough trouble with sleep without waking up screaming in the small hours.  Come to think of it, his non-fiction interfered with my sleep too.  Only in a good way.  Sort of.  I didn't get nightmares.  To the contrary.  But I ended up grouchy all the same.

This brings me back to the time issue.  There doesn't seem to be enough.  I'm not sure why.  Priorities I guess.  I have too many.  Need to pay  those bills.  Feed the kids.  Taxi the kids.  Should spend more time cleaning the house.  Make the costumes.  Meet the friends for Halloweening.  

It's the personal goals that get me in trouble.  Get the novel finished.  Read more.  (Stephen King says writers should be reading every day.  Reading every day?  I can't find time to write every day!)  Get the two stories I've got brewing in my head down on paper.  Send a note to my cousin who's recuperating.  Touch base with my Grandma and Aunts.

Are any of these less of a priority that others? No.  They are all important.  And all part of my job - of who I am in this world.  The trick is fitting it all in.  So maybe it doesn't matter if I read books that give me nightmares after all.  I'm destined to be short on sleep regardless.

And the timer signaling dinner is ready has been going off for at least three minutes!