I found a great book last weekend at the second-hand store – Secret Windows by Stephen King. While I’m not a fan of the man’s work (other than The Stand) I LOVE his nonfiction work. On Writing is one of the best craft books on writing I can think of and when I tripped across the BOTM special edition of his essays… well, it had to be mine!
If you haven’t picked up Dance Macabre, an exploration of the horror genre by King – get thee hence. Even if you don’t write horror (or, like me, have BAD nightmares when you even SEE a preview of The Walking Dead) it’s an excellent book dealing with Dracula, the Wolfman and why we had so many giant animals creeping around in the 1950’s…
but I digress…
Once again I found myself searching for a bookmark. I have plenty of them around the house – usually index cards, tissues or ripped pages from my notebook filled with beautiful (okay, barely) scrawlings from my new fountain pen I got for my birthday.
I ended up with an old Garfield one my hubby shoved at me, annoyed that I was going to use the jacket cover as a bookmark.
“We have bookmarks. I know we do,” he said.
“But they’re in books.” My great counterargument came.
He laughed and pointed at the stack of reading material on my table. “Then finish them!”
But… but… my inner voice cried. This is KING. I can’t finish a romance novel to pull the bookmark for a nonfiction book on writing. That’s just not right.
So… I need to buy more bookmarks.
‘Cause Garfield might be one cool kitty but he can’t go from an Arkham Horror book (excellent reading if not a blatant plug for the board game!) to KING.
That’s just not right.
I might never have enough bookmarks…