Reading Recommendation: Stephen King’s ‘On Writing’

A timeless memoir teaching creators the importance of taking everything one day at a time.

I didn’t do anything today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that.

It was amazing.

I slept at 5, woke up at 11, performed the daily morning ritual of scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone-until-I-was-sick-of-scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone and suddenly it was 12.

I brushed my teeth, made the morning tea (black with lots of ginger) and performed the morning/afternoon tea ritual of scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone-until-I-was-sick-of-scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone and the next thing you know it was 1.

I made some breakfast/ lunch/ brunch- ‘anda bhurji and heavily buttered pao’ (Nothing fancy today. Not in the mood for Instagram validation), and again went on to perform, you guessed it, the daily brunch ritual of scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone-until-I-was-sick-of-scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone and now time is an abstract concept.

Now I know this is getting repetitive and you’re getting bored at this point. This isn’t a post to glorify laziness nor is it, in any way, to demean the hard work of so many others making their day as productive as it could be.

And the thing is, I go through countless of their laboured, well-intentioned posts on Instagram and I have to admit it does make me a little anxious.

It’s hard not to be. I mean somebody around you today has- mastered the yoga headstand, finished the first draft of the book they always wanted to write and cooked a three-course gourmet meal, all in due time to post their evening Insta-story of watching the sunset from their windowpane with a glass of red wine. So it’s only human to feel a little insignificant.

And times like these I’m reminded of this excerpt from Stephen King’s memoir ‘On Writing’:

In the year 1981, King had bought himself a huge oak-panelled desk he always wanted to buy. He called it ‘T-rex’ and kept it in the very middle of his spacious writing room. The desk covered most the very large room and he spent 6 years behind it, delivering bestseller after bestseller- Cujo, Pet Semetary, It, The Dark Tower Series.

It was also the time he went through a severe alcohol addiction. King spent most of his time behind the desk- ‘either drunk or wrecked out of my mind’, he wrote. ‘Like a ship’s captain in charge of a voyage to nowhere.’

A year or two later, after he got sober, King got rid of the desk. He bought a new desk, half the size of ‘T-rex’, and kept in one corner of the room. And every single day after that, he sat there in the corner, writing- a calm, sober 40-year-old man with no glass of alcohol or a giant desk for an ego boost.

A few times, his two kids would come up to the room, and in the newly emptied space, sit in the middle and enjoy an occasional pizza. They’d leave crusts on the floor behind, but King never used to mind.

From a book that is the greatest resource for budding writers, this has been my biggest takeaway. Apart from all the brilliant writing advice it has to offer- the importance of being concise, treating Grammar as a friend, losing out the adverbs and using more active voice, I guess I’ve managed to learn the most important lesson any book has ever taught me about creativity- the importance of being patient.

Everything should move at your own pace- Your art, your life, relationships, work. You dictate the speed of your own progress. Some days giant leaps, some days baby steps.

King’s advice to writers, creators and all anxious individuals trying to get by one day at a time remains timeless:

It starts with this: put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn’t in the middle of the room.

Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to get back to my very important evening ritual of scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone-until-I-get-sick-of-scrolling-through-all-the-apps-on-my-phone.

Until next time.