Dear Mr. King,
I just finished listening to your book “On Writing” this evening. Thank you for taking time to regale your thoughts on the craft, and offer insight for old and new writers alike. Even my shoes thank you for heaving aside much of the discernible bovine feces we face on this path.
There is one thing I’d like to ask: how do you silence the muse long enough to write? I find that he is far too comfortable at my side, never pausing to consider where I am or what I may be doing. His whispers reach my ears in the check-out line, at my day job, throughout my dreams, and God knows he loves to watch me shower; I can’t seem to get much time away from him. Even if I sit down in front of the television, all I hear are complaints about how awful it is when compared to recent books I read. He gave me this letter while I made tea; I had no intention of sending you a note until he wouldn’t shut up about it.
Perhaps this is a trivial question, and if so I am remiss to have wasted the chance to speak with you. I cannot find anyone who will answer this, however, so if it finds you with a similar struggle I would be honored to hear your thoughts.
Thank you for your time – please keep writing.