![]() ![]() At this point in my life I seem to be reasonably healthy. The stories - Carrie, 'Salem's Lot, and The Shining - have been successful enough to allow me to write full-time, which is an agreeable thing to be able to do. My job is writing, and it's a job I like very much. I love them, and I believe that the feeling is reciprocated. I am a grown man with a wife and three children. Let's talk very rationally about moving to the rim of madness. But for now it's on, and so let's talk very honestly about fear. Sometimes when the wind blows the way it's blowing now, we lose the power. The house is empty as I write this a cold February rain is falling outside. ![]() In re-reading it the other night, I found it so compelling a read about the writer life and the meaning of horror that it seemed only fitting to post it in its entirety here. Editorial Note: This essay by Stephen King was originally published as the foreward to King's 1977 short story collection, Night Shift. ![]()
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