Years ago, before kids and before I got truly serious about publishing my writing, I picked up a copy of Stephen King’s at-that-time brand new book, On Writing. Always a fan of his fiction, I figured he had to have some useful words for me. And he did.
Then of course, there was marriage, and kids, and moves, and divorce, and more moves. In the process of all of this, books were packed and unpacked and packed and unpacked, and in the shuffle, On Writing got buried in a tub of books somewhere in storage. It hasn’t come up for air in years.