Reading Steven King’s book, ON WRITING: a Memoir of the Craft. Not a fan of horror, blood and guts, so didn’t pick this one up for a while. Wish I’d read it earlier. You feel like you went on the journey with him, seeing what becoming a writer was like from inside his head. All the dull bits are there, just not boring. You cringe and celebrate in equal time, but recognize most of writing is slogging through life, with the occasional light bulb going off, or if you’re lucky, the awe-inspiring arc of a shooting star across the sky. Excellent read.