I wish to thank Mr. King. Several months ago - beginning around Christmas, extending through February, into March - I was in "a bad place," mentally, spiritually, physically, etc.; in all the ways one can hurt, I hurt. For well over two months I suffered through a severe depression. Two things, at last, gave me the added strength I needed to pull myself out. One was the procurement of a kitten, and the delight and affection he brought to my life. The other was the work of Stephen King: I began with an old mid-career favorite, "From a Buick 8," then I read finally "The Green Mile," and at last I read his wonderful and relatively new "11/22/63." Reading Mr. King's stories at this point in my life "woke up my brain," fired up those neurons that enable one to think and feel; these stories, well, simply enabled me to experience JOY and FUN again (as well as terror and spookiness in the face of shadow). I am alive now (obviously; no zombie writing here), and I again feel both good in myself and good about art. Mr. King certainly contributed to the latter, and he very well may have contributed to the former. For this, my gratitude.
Thank you for your time, dear moderator,
William B. Fullam