Stephen King shaped how I think about reading long before I understood why. Not through genre or popularity, but through discipline, attention, and a serious respect for the page. His work taught me that reading well is not passive, it’s a practice that sharpens thought, patience, and awareness.

His book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft is part autobiography, part writing manual, and fully a reflection of the commitment behind his work. Early in the book, King offers a sharp reminder:

“You must not come lightly to the blank page.”

The weight of that line deepens when you consider the circumstances in which the book was completed. In June of 1999, while walking along a rural road near his home in Maine, King was struck by a van and thrown several feet off the road, sustaining life-threatening injuries. At the time, he was only halfway through the first draft of On Writing. His account of the accident and the long, painful recovery that followed is as compelling as any of his fiction, and it reveals how seriously he took his own advice about returning to the work.

The book covers far more than that near-death experience. It traces his childhood, early struggles, marriage, and eventual breakthrough with Carrie. It also dives into the mechanics of writing, how sentences work, why adverbs usually don’t, and what it takes to find your voice. As you read, you’re not just learning about writing; you’re learning through writing. His life becomes the lesson.

One line in particular shifted how I think about reading and writing:

“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”

That principle took time to settle in. I came to understand that reading isn’t just entertainment, it’s education. King helped me see that reading widely, not only from so-called “classic literature,” but from strong storytelling in any form, is essential to developing your own voice.

His influence changed how I read and, over time, how I think. I still enjoy many of his books, though a few unsettled me more than I expected. Christine and Revival stayed with me long after I finished them. Fear, I learned, can sharpen attention and reveal truths we might otherwise avoid.

What matters most isn’t genre or reputation. It’s the way a writer’s discipline, curiosity, and respect for the page quietly shape your habits of thought. King didn’t just teach me how to write more seriously. He taught me how to read with purpose, and how to return to the work, even when it’s difficult.

Brent M. Jones

Brent writes with quiet confidence and curiosity, exploring communication, reinvention, and what truly matters. His reflections invite readers to slow down, reconsider their stories, and reconnect with the values that guide them. Through books, essays, and his What Matters Substack Articles and Notes, he offers writing that doesn’t shout—but still speaks clearly.