Dear Mr. King,
I'm almost sure that you will never read this, as to which I do understand. I've never read any of your works. Firstly, because I'm not into sci-fi and secondly because I've never thought of you as a true writer. Joyce Carol Oates is equally prolific but I've never seen any of her work sold at a Penn Station newsstand.
As an aspiring writer myself who has given up all of his dreams due to unforeseen circumstances. I gave myself up to sustain myself and my family, I put my aspirations of writing aside. The reason my soul shakes is because I yearn to affect masses through words; from the moment I discovered that letters made words, words made sentences and sentences made stories. I never, ever wanted to be forgotten. I want to be dissected for centuries, be studied, be misunderstood and over analyzed and through that memory and process, I will exist forever, like Patrick Suskind, Kate Chopin, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Isabelle Allende, Laura Esquival, Sylvia Plath or Christopher Isherwood. Unfortunately, like most writers, destiny tugs at your strings and my mother was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Alzheimer's. The irony of it all? I never want to be forgotten, but the very person I adore and I struggle daily for her to remember me has diminished me into a barely there writer, I'll be forgotten eventually.
I was given your book by an editor client of mine (I'm a hairstylist for money, cause art doesn't pay the bills, vanity the complete opposite of writing) who I told my pathetic life story to, and she urged me to read your book. She repeatedly asked me if I've read the book "On Writing A Memoir of the Craft". I would lie, skim through the book every 6 weeks I'd see her and give her small synopsis of what I sped read.
But I've been reading this book closely lately... and I realized why she gave me the memoir. You never gave up, but you did because you didn't think that there was a story in "Carrie"... After you crumpled up "Carrie" and your wife saw it, she blew away the cigarette ashes and said "there's something here" you still snubbed it and continued writing a piece you didn't feel connected to because of your distance to the subject matter---you weren't a teenage girl, you didn't understand being bullied for being an outlier, but yet, that story is iconic. I didn't even know you wrote "Carrie" until I read your memoir. Carrie White, as much as you didn't understand her, gave you your first break and the funny thing is, that I'm sure you're still disconnected from that character, but isn't that what all great artists do? They just experiment with something that they don't understand and create something completely iconic and revolutionary because someone else believed in them.
I'm not a die-hard fan of yours. My writing is completely opposite of yours--- as a gay, Latino man, raised by a single woman, I tend to drift mostly to women, and/or Latina women's literature. Most of the stuff I worship has a very American, millenial '**** happens' in that languor of magical realism, the intricacies of Latinidad and/or speculative fiction genre.
Nonetheless, you've inspired me utterly,and completely won me over. I never thought that a writer that was sold next to Danielle Steel would be insightful or charismatic with words could have the type of insight that only adversity and socioeconomic turmoil can manifest in a true writer.
The point of this whole letter is to let you know that, I've only read your memoir and I didn't even know you wrote "Carrie" or "Cujo" not because I'm stupid, but because I was honestly not interested in acknowledging a novel that is sold next to crossword puzzles would have any meaningful impact or consider the human condition. I thought you wrote "It". I always pegged you as a prolific author that sold trash for cash and Danielle Steel being sold next to you only asserted my stupidity.
Your memoir was beyond insigthful---I've never wanted to vomit, cry and laugh all at the same time until I read your memoir. I've never been inspired by a writer outside of my Latinhood until I read your memoir. I've never felt comfortable reading books by white, heterosexual males until your memoir.I know you'll never read this, but maybe through the vines you'll know that you've inspired a poor Latino aspiring writer turned hairstylist to hit the old pen and paper.
Thank you.
I'll be sure to pick up "Finders Keepers" and place all of them in front of Danielle Steel's books at Duane Reade.
-Ariel NYC
I'm almost sure that you will never read this, as to which I do understand. I've never read any of your works. Firstly, because I'm not into sci-fi and secondly because I've never thought of you as a true writer. Joyce Carol Oates is equally prolific but I've never seen any of her work sold at a Penn Station newsstand.
As an aspiring writer myself who has given up all of his dreams due to unforeseen circumstances. I gave myself up to sustain myself and my family, I put my aspirations of writing aside. The reason my soul shakes is because I yearn to affect masses through words; from the moment I discovered that letters made words, words made sentences and sentences made stories. I never, ever wanted to be forgotten. I want to be dissected for centuries, be studied, be misunderstood and over analyzed and through that memory and process, I will exist forever, like Patrick Suskind, Kate Chopin, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Isabelle Allende, Laura Esquival, Sylvia Plath or Christopher Isherwood. Unfortunately, like most writers, destiny tugs at your strings and my mother was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Alzheimer's. The irony of it all? I never want to be forgotten, but the very person I adore and I struggle daily for her to remember me has diminished me into a barely there writer, I'll be forgotten eventually.
I was given your book by an editor client of mine (I'm a hairstylist for money, cause art doesn't pay the bills, vanity the complete opposite of writing) who I told my pathetic life story to, and she urged me to read your book. She repeatedly asked me if I've read the book "On Writing A Memoir of the Craft". I would lie, skim through the book every 6 weeks I'd see her and give her small synopsis of what I sped read.
But I've been reading this book closely lately... and I realized why she gave me the memoir. You never gave up, but you did because you didn't think that there was a story in "Carrie"... After you crumpled up "Carrie" and your wife saw it, she blew away the cigarette ashes and said "there's something here" you still snubbed it and continued writing a piece you didn't feel connected to because of your distance to the subject matter---you weren't a teenage girl, you didn't understand being bullied for being an outlier, but yet, that story is iconic. I didn't even know you wrote "Carrie" until I read your memoir. Carrie White, as much as you didn't understand her, gave you your first break and the funny thing is, that I'm sure you're still disconnected from that character, but isn't that what all great artists do? They just experiment with something that they don't understand and create something completely iconic and revolutionary because someone else believed in them.
I'm not a die-hard fan of yours. My writing is completely opposite of yours--- as a gay, Latino man, raised by a single woman, I tend to drift mostly to women, and/or Latina women's literature. Most of the stuff I worship has a very American, millenial '**** happens' in that languor of magical realism, the intricacies of Latinidad and/or speculative fiction genre.
Nonetheless, you've inspired me utterly,and completely won me over. I never thought that a writer that was sold next to Danielle Steel would be insightful or charismatic with words could have the type of insight that only adversity and socioeconomic turmoil can manifest in a true writer.
The point of this whole letter is to let you know that, I've only read your memoir and I didn't even know you wrote "Carrie" or "Cujo" not because I'm stupid, but because I was honestly not interested in acknowledging a novel that is sold next to crossword puzzles would have any meaningful impact or consider the human condition. I thought you wrote "It". I always pegged you as a prolific author that sold trash for cash and Danielle Steel being sold next to you only asserted my stupidity.
Your memoir was beyond insigthful---I've never wanted to vomit, cry and laugh all at the same time until I read your memoir. I've never been inspired by a writer outside of my Latinhood until I read your memoir. I've never felt comfortable reading books by white, heterosexual males until your memoir.I know you'll never read this, but maybe through the vines you'll know that you've inspired a poor Latino aspiring writer turned hairstylist to hit the old pen and paper.
Thank you.
I'll be sure to pick up "Finders Keepers" and place all of them in front of Danielle Steel's books at Duane Reade.
-Ariel NYC
All the best, mal.
