207. STEPHEN KING: The desk

“If you never let anyone surprise you, they won’t,” I told my therapist today as we started taking apart the pieces of the puzzle. “And I’ve spent a good deal of my life making sure that I never surprised anyone.”

I tell myself that I am okay: 32 days. I am okay. The dark clouds are parting, The sun is poking back through.

I am. They are. And it is.

Slowly. Not entirely. And not yet.

I know because a friend sent me this. As I read it, the swells washed up from my gut. I was shattered while sitting on the couch. Earlier in the morning, scabs were torn off wounds I didn’t know still existed. There were new cuts in places I hadn’t expected.

And then this cartoon about writing, and life, and art, and recovery. All of it crashed into me, unexpectedly.

If that sounds bad the best I can offer is that it is not. Those swells remind me that whatever part of me is broken, there is another part that isn’t. I’m thankful, and grateful, to have those small releases.

Because that is the process. And recovery, like art, is the support system for life.

Source: 207. STEPHEN KING: The desk

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This newsletter is the outgrowth of The Downtown Writers Jam podcast. What that means is I will collect information about the authors I interview, book happenings around the Web, and other literary events that I find interesting. Without you, I'm just a crazy guy sitting in his office furiously screaming on the page for no reason.
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