It's around 3pm on Sunday afternoon when I slam closed my paperback copy of Stephen King's oft-recommended writing guide, On Writing. I don't have a problem dog-earing a book or bending its pages—I learned to love books and reading from my dad, who often battered a book before reading it to give it that "lived-in feel"—but I can't bring myself to throw one across the room. I briefly entertain the idea but settle for the satisfaction of removing my bookmark, signalling its new state of abandonment, as I proclaim, "I can't read any more! I hate Stephen King!"
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://blog.ghost.org/learning-to-write/