![]() My family and I live in a pleasant house beside a relatively unpolluted lake in Maine last fall I awoke one morning and saw a deer standing on the back lawn by the picnic table. ![]() In the last year I have been able to reduce my cigarette habit from the unfiltered brand I had smoked since I was eighteen to a low nicotine and tar brand, and I still hope to be able to quit completely. At this point in my life I seem to be reasonably healthy. The stories - Carrie, 'Salem's Lot, and The Shining - have been successful enough to allow me to write full-time, which is an agreeable thing to be able to do. My job is writing, and it's a job I like very much. I love them, and I believe that the feeling is reciprocated. I am a grown man with a wife and three children. Let's talk very rationally about moving to the rim of madness. But for now it's on, and so let's talk very honestly about fear. ![]() Sometimes when the wind blows the way it's blowing now, we lose the power. ![]() The house is empty as I write this a cold February rain is falling outside. ![]() In re-reading it the other night, I found it so compelling a read about the writer life and the meaning of horror that it seemed only fitting to post it in its entirety here. Editorial Note: This essay by Stephen King was originally published as the foreward to King's 1977 short story collection, Night Shift. ![]()
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