me: i finally figured it out

me: books are my clothes

friend: ?

me: i’ll get some money and go to the store and blow half of it

me: go home and then whine about how they don’t fit me

me: then someone will borrow one and suddenly the next day there’s nothing else i want to read but that

friend: you are strange but interesting

friend:

One of the books that I splurged on and have been reading/lovin’ is On Writing by Stephen King. It’s this great memoir that mostly concerns what it’s like to be a writer, but a bit moreso what it’s like to be Stephen King, which is pretty interesting. I knew I had to buy it when I first picked it up and read the foreword:

This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit. Fiction writers, present company included, don’t understand very much about what they do–not why it works when it’s good, not why it doesn’t work when it’s bad. I figured the shorter the book, the less the bullshit.

Le sigh. Someday.