（外文电子版资料）SK.NightShift.doc

PAGE PAGE 49 INTRODUCTION I am often given the big smiling handshake at parties (which I avoid attending whenever possible) by someone who then, with an air of gleeful conspiracy, will say, You know, Ive always wanted to write. I used to try to be polite. These days I reply with the same jubilant excitement: You know, Ive always wanted to be a brain surgeon. They look puzzled. It doesnt matter. There are a lot of puzzled people wandering around lately. If you want to write, you write. The only way to learn to write is by writing. And that would not be a useful approach to brain surgery. Stephen King always wanted to write and he writes. So he wrote Carrie and Salems Lot and The Shining, and the good short stories you can read in this book and a stupendous number of other stories and books and fragments and poems and essays and other unclassifiable things, most of them too wretched to ever publish. Because that is the way it is done. Because there is no other way to do it. Not one other way Compulsive diligence is almost enough. But not quite. You have to have a taste for words. Gluttony. You have to want to roll in them. You have to read millions of them written by other people. You read everything with grinding envy or a weary contempt. You save the most contempt for the people who conceal ineptitude with long words, Germanic sentence structure, obtrusive symbols, and no sense of story, pace, or character. Then you have to start knowing yourself so well that you begin to know other people. A piece of us is in every person we can ever meet. Okay, then. Stupendous diligence, plus word-love, plus empathy, and out of that can come, painfully, some objectivity. Never total objectivity. At this frangible moment in time I am typing these words on my blue machine, seven lines down from the top of my page two of this introduction, knowing clearly the flavour and meaning I am hunting for, but not at all certain I am getting it. Having been around twice as long as Stephen