Stephen King, I started reading your books back in the eighties. I stopped in the early nineties. Even though, I had stopped, I’d still felt that excitement every time I saw a book with your name on it with those bold letters STEPHEN KING, I’d stop what I was doing, to read the back and see what this book was about. Since then, I haven’t picked up any of your books until recently. In a book store, I was looking for a book on writing. When I saw your book, I flipped through it, in hopes it wasn’t a book spelling out how full of yourself you are, and actually wrote about writing. I was happy to see that indeed you did. But something's bothered me. In the beginning, when I read about your childhood, and your imagination, I loved it! I had to laugh when you stung your ear, and smashed toes. Your books have always had that real life reaction for me. I would be afraid, laugh or cry for real while reading your words. I had to share this part with my family, so I started with my daughter who is almost 11. “I’m reading this new book about a writer who wrote a book about writing and..” she started giggling and said, “ he’s a writer who wrote a book about writing?” and then we both laughed. I begin to tell her about the strong man in the circus is, as she has never been to the circus. When I start to describe how you really dragged the cinder block but in your mind you were this big strong man, I had acted out each description so she got the picture as your words did for me. She smiled and looked expectantly for me to go on, and when I got to the part of the smashed toes, unfortunately, she didn’t find it as funny as I did. But she was VERY interested in you and what happened next. I shared it with my husband, he had the same reaction. Later on, he was actually present when I was reading the poison Ivy part, and saw my reaction. Which, obviously piqued his interest. Without the graphics, I told him the story, and this time I got a smile out of him, and then he said, “He’s a writer, he’s probably making this stuff up. I didn’t expect that being that he is also a writer, and usually sticks to the truth unless he is writing fiction. The next day I told my daughter about it, and she reacted better this time too but then, she said the exact same thing he said! I prefer to believe that what you wrote is true. At this point I haven’t finished your book yet, but I wanted to begin a letter to you now, because of Carrie. You formulated Carrie from two girls whom you’d known in high school. I felt very bad for those two girls. I could see carrie in how you described both. I loved Carrie! Although, I never saw myself in her but I did see myself in the two girls you describe. This scared me more than Carrie. Four Months Later. I have finished your book, and after a few months, I started it again. Again, I came to the part where you described the two girls from high school. I was disturbed enough to stop reading the book this time too. Initially, I decided not to continue the letter, or even send it. Maybe it’s that shame you talk about? I don’t know. But finishing your book, then not touching it again for a few months, then picking it up again only to have the same reaction to a part I knew existed. I didn’t expect it. I guess maybe I would have been somewhat desensitized to what you said that is troubling me (again). You and your classmates hated and feared Dodie and Sondra. I want to understand you, I really do. These two girls were like some in most high schools, a select few who were treated badly because they were ‘outcasts’ maybe? I remember high school. I got ridiculed a lot. I wore outdated clothes from bags we got from people. I decided to do stuff to them so they would be original, and the sneers and the leers changed, and slowly people started talking to me. Some just ignored me since they couldn’t ridicule me to my face anymore. I was clueless why they were mean to me, I mean was it really just the clothes?. I am just as clueless as to why they stopped. So one kid only had one outfit. The other had a freakizoid for a mother. (okay so maybe ‘freakin` momma’ is reason enough. I keep hearing my daughter tell me “Stop embarassing me in front of my friends!”) But really now, What was to fear in Sondra and Dodie? What was there to hate? For a long time I believed those kids were indeed better than me. High school creates a magnifying glass to see each of your classmates through with a powerful clarity, that you forget the person and remember only the pimples, red hair, glasses the list goes on. I am not sure if I looked through that magnifying glass, but I felt the heat of being seen through it by my peers. Each one noticing something else about me they could laugh at and then sharing with each other, so everyone came again for another look, and another laugh. There’s no place to hide in high school. Why did you have fear and hatred towards two girls who were ridiculed and tormented mercilessly? I am very uncomfortable. Please tell me, please explain what it is you feared. Why did you hate them?