I recently turned thirty-five. For years, I have wanted to write, but either procrastinated or convinced myself the endeavor would be a failure better left of my ledger. I read On Writing many years ago, but until recently (despite the many films I had seen) I had never sat down with a Stephen King novel. I finished Bag of Bones and I am almost finished with Revival. What has surprised me, enough to register and post on a message board for God knows what reason--is the emotional response I had reading Revival. I am not sure what it is--maybe my connection with Jamie (watching a mother die), growing up in the bible belt, or how I am beginning to feel like the frog in the pot (except I am disappointed that I never trusted myself to jump higher). For whatever reason, the book kept me chocked up and melancholy. I love reading a novel that stays with you. Revival has made me homesick. It's made me sad. It's made me remember. I appreciate that.