The Atlantic article :How Stephen King Teaches Writing
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Thank you- that was an excellent article.
Thank you for posting this! I've always wanted to "hear" more about SK's teaching days!
That was a great article/interview. Thanks!
Thanks for the link.
When I was 17 (not at Band Camp), James Dickey took me to a two-dude lunch because he liked my poetry.
I don't remember his words...I don't remember mine.
I probably ordered a club sandwich.
I agree with King about grammwrods. And especially this useless batard---> ; once you know the basics, it is your job to break them.
Language also evolves.
When I was 17 (not at Band Camp), James Dickey took me to a two-dude lunch because he liked my poetry.
I don't remember his words...I don't remember mine.
I probably ordered a club sandwich.
I agree with King about grammwrods. And especially this useless batard---> ; once you know the basics, it is your job to break them.
Language also evolves.
Holy Canoli! How did you meet James Dickey?
This is a great article. I wish I had Stephen King as my English teacher. I was such a nerd in high school but I knew I could write like the wind blew. My English teacher was a the kind of teacher who, you knew when she was in high school was not popular because as a teacher she was just a little street puppy still chasing after the good opinion of the football players and cheerleaders. It was moronic and a terrible waste of time, I thought. Finally she gave us a short story assignment--five pages minimum. I think my short story was 19 pages long. It was called Ticking based on the Elton John song about a Viet Nam vet who psyche finally explodes in a bar and he shoots it all up. I got an A of course and the street puppy teacher let me grade the rest of the classes' stories which at the time, I thought was pretty cool but now I think she really more interested in leading the class in choruses of Benny and the Jets.
IMHO, some people say that many believe that the consensus is, you know, like, YOLO. LOL.
(Good article. Thanks for the link, Christine62.)
(Good article. Thanks for the link, Christine62.)
I was more fortunate...if you can call being taught English by a working-class Glaswegian 'fortunate'.
He was (and still is; I saw him in town not so long back) one of the good guys, and was a great teacher. A little prone to teaching Frost's 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening', perhaps - I had him for 4 years straight and covered that poem in every single one of them - but he genuinely wanted to help you improve, whatever your level.
In the first year with him, when I was about 12, the first assignment was to write a story of 5,000 words. Being 12, that seemed like a lot, especially as we only had a term (September-December) to write it in. It seemed impossible - and so, for many, it was. Stories of 800-2,000 words were common. A few reached close to 4,000. The class smartarse finished her rather tame effort on 5,002. And then there was me.
In September, 5k words had seemed like a lot. Impossible, especially by Christmas. So I planned to write to the sort of lengths (I thought) I'd read. Novels. They had to be about 5,000 words, right? (Remember, I was 12, and I'd never thought to count the lines per page and multiply by words per line, then again by the number of pages; it simply hadn't crossed my mind to be curious about it.)
Come Christmas, I'd filled one exercise book and was halfway through another. The word count had reached something like 72,000 and I was having the time of my life. Every spare moment was spent writing 'The Story'. Entire weekends blew by - no loss; it was autumn-cum-winter so most of them were cold, wet and grey - and most nights I'd come in, watch a bit of TV, eat, then out would come the pen and exercise book and I'd be away again. (I'd love to tap back into whatever that was. That kind of energy and drive, and the inner peace that allowed me to just settle to it, are all distant memories now.)
And all the way through, there was my teacher to 'mark' it (it wasn't really marking, more like editing). There was never any comment like 'I wanted a 5,000 word story', nothing to break the flow. Just the odd correction and gentle encouragement. He even told my parents to encourage me, gently, when they expressed concern over how much time I was spending on writing.
So all in all I think I had just about the best English teacher in the world...but it seems as if Stephen would also have been excellent and inspiring. The kids he taught were certainly lucky to get him.
Awesome! Thanks for sharing.I was more fortunate...if you can call being taught English by a working-class Glaswegian 'fortunate'.
He was (and still is; I saw him in town not so long back) one of the good guys, and was a great teacher. A little prone to teaching Frost's 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening', perhaps - I had him for 4 years straight and covered that poem in every single one of them - but he genuinely wanted to help you improve, whatever your level.
In the first year with him, when I was about 12, the first assignment was to write a story of 5,000 words. Being 12, that seemed like a lot, especially as we only had a term (September-December) to write it in. It seemed impossible - and so, for many, it was. Stories of 800-2,000 words were common. A few reached close to 4,000. The class smartarse finished her rather tame effort on 5,002. And then there was me.
In September, 5k words had seemed like a lot. Impossible, especially by Christmas. So I planned to write to the sort of lengths (I thought) I'd read. Novels. They had to be about 5,000 words, right? (Remember, I was 12, and I'd never thought to count the lines per page and multiply by words per line, then again by the number of pages; it simply hadn't crossed my mind to be curious about it.)
Come Christmas, I'd filled one exercise book and was halfway through another. The word count had reached something like 72,000 and I was having the time of my life. Every spare moment was spent writing 'The Story'. Entire weekends blew by - no loss; it was autumn-cum-winter so most of them were cold, wet and grey - and most nights I'd come in, watch a bit of TV, eat, then out would come the pen and exercise book and I'd be away again. (I'd love to tap back into whatever that was. That kind of energy and drive, and the inner peace that allowed me to just settle to it, are all distant memories now.)
And all the way through, there was my teacher to 'mark' it (it wasn't really marking, more like editing). There was never any comment like 'I wanted a 5,000 word story', nothing to break the flow. Just the odd correction and gentle encouragement. He even told my parents to encourage me, gently, when they expressed concern over how much time I was spending on writing.
So all in all I think I had just about the best English teacher in the world...but it seems as if Stephen would also have been excellent and inspiring. The kids he taught were certainly lucky to get him.
I had a great English teacher.
She somehow managed to make Shakespeare's Othello good fun, which is no mean feat!
It always helps if the teacher obviously loves and appreciates language and the amazing things you can do with it. She did and she made me love it, too.
She somehow managed to make Shakespeare's Othello good fun, which is no mean feat!
It always helps if the teacher obviously loves and appreciates language and the amazing things you can do with it. She did and she made me love it, too.
I was more fortunate...if you can call being taught English by a working-class Glaswegian 'fortunate'.
He was (and still is; I saw him in town not so long back) one of the good guys, and was a great teacher. A little prone to teaching Frost's 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening', perhaps - I had him for 4 years straight and covered that poem in every single one of them - but he genuinely wanted to help you improve, whatever your level.
In the first year with him, when I was about 12, the first assignment was to write a story of 5,000 words. Being 12, that seemed like a lot, especially as we only had a term (September-December) to write it in. It seemed impossible - and so, for many, it was. Stories of 800-2,000 words were common. A few reached close to 4,000. The class smartarse finished her rather tame effort on 5,002. And then there was me.
In September, 5k words had seemed like a lot. Impossible, especially by Christmas. So I planned to write to the sort of lengths (I thought) I'd read. Novels. They had to be about 5,000 words, right? (Remember, I was 12, and I'd never thought to count the lines per page and multiply by words per line, then again by the number of pages; it simply hadn't crossed my mind to be curious about it.)
Come Christmas, I'd filled one exercise book and was halfway through another. The word count had reached something like 72,000 and I was having the time of my life. Every spare moment was spent writing 'The Story'. Entire weekends blew by - no loss; it was autumn-cum-winter so most of them were cold, wet and grey - and most nights I'd come in, watch a bit of TV, eat, then out would come the pen and exercise book and I'd be away again. (I'd love to tap back into whatever that was. That kind of energy and drive, and the inner peace that allowed me to just settle to it, are all distant memories now.)
And all the way through, there was my teacher to 'mark' it (it wasn't really marking, more like editing). There was never any comment like 'I wanted a 5,000 word story', nothing to break the flow. Just the odd correction and gentle encouragement. He even told my parents to encourage me, gently, when they expressed concern over how much time I was spending on writing.
So all in all I think I had just about the best English teacher in the world...but it seems as if Stephen would also have been excellent and inspiring. The kids he taught were certainly lucky to get him.
What a great story! I love this! I know exactly what you mean. When I was 12 or so I would drink coffee (even though I hated the taste) Sit in my dad's recliner with my pencil and sheets of notebook paper and write all night....no tv, nothing but me and my characters.....crappy stories I would think later but the feeling was the biggest high I ever had ....still have really. Yes, you really brought me back. Thanks for posting!