Misery Journal #2: Prequel To On Writing

I am about half way through the Stephen King novel Misery.  Originally slated to be a Bachman novel, Misery was ultimately published under King’s own name.  This is because the big secret was uncovered. . . Stephen King was indeed Richard Bachman.  Misery is an unrelentingly painful book, with very few spots of sunshine.  I like the book very much.

Some observations as I’ve been reading:

1.  The writing.

The book itself revolves almost completely, thus far at least, around the two central characters of Paul and Annie.  Further, King never switches view points.  The reader receives all information from Paul Sheldon’s point of view.  This means that the reader is immersed in Paul’s internal thought processes and perspective.  When he blacks out, the narrative blacks out with him.  When Paul suffers, believe me, King is a skilled enough writer to carry the reader right into his suffering.

In one scene, as Paul explores the house, King brilliantly breaks up the intensity of the Paul’s thoughts and the action sequence by bringing in the voice of a sports caster.  Of course, that voice is in Paul’s head!  In another scene, the typewriter itself becomes a character and talks to Mr. Sheldon!

I thought you were supposed to be good, the typewriter said— his mind had invested it with a sneering and yet callow voice: the voice of a teen-age gunslinger in a Hollywood western, a kid intent on making a fast reputation here in Deadwood. You’re not so good. Hell, you can’t even please one crazy overweight ex-nurse. Maybe you broke your writing bone in that crash, too ... only that bone isn’t healing.

At another point he hears the Red Queen lecturing Alice.

To the reader, these scenes (the sportscaster, the typewriter, the Red Queen) help break up the long sections of monologue running through Paul’s head.

The movie opened Misery up quite a bit by adding the character of the Sherif and his wife.  This broke up the long scenes between Annie and Paul.

2. Annie's many tortures

Annie has many ways of torturing Paul.  This is mostly because she herself is a tortured soul. (Hurt people. . . hurt people.)  Here are a few ways thus far that Annie has tortured Paul:

• She left him without food or care for several days.
• She messes with his meds.  In particular, she gets him addicted and then refuses access to medication.
• She beats him at times.
• She forced him to burn his book, Fast Cars.  This was probably one of the most painful things!
• She reminds him often of his hopeless situation.  She encourages him to scream, because no one is coming.
• . . . and don’t I know, there is so much more to come!

3. Prequel to On Writing

Since "prequel" talk is in the air. . . I think Misery serves as a prequel to King’s book, “On Writing.”  Or it is the novelized version.  I know this is not intentional, but in Misery, King takes the reader deep inside the writing process.

When Paul agrees to write a sequel to his latest Misery novel, Annie is not pleased with the first few pages.  She calls the new work a “cheat.”  She clarifies that she has no problem with a writer using plot lines that might seem unlikely – so long as they are consistent within the confines of the work.  What is unfair is to just pretend something didn’t happen!

This is from Paul’s head:

deus ex machina, the god from the machine, first used in Greek amphitheaters. When the playwright got his hero into an impossible jam, this chair decked with flowers came down from overhead. The hero sat down in it and was drawn up and out of harm’s way. Even the stupidest swain could grasp the symbolism-the hero had been saved by God. But the deus ex machina— sometimes known in the technical jargon as “the old parachute-under-the-airplane-seat trick,” finally went out of vogue around the year 1700. Except, of course, for such arcana as the Rocket Man serials and the Nancy Drew books. I guess you missed the news, Annie. 

Annie explains the problem with an illustration from the Rocketman short films she used to watch every week as a kid.  She was upset one week when the story picked up, but made changes to the previous week.  Annie tells Paul, “The car went over the cliff, and all the kids in the theater were cheering because Rocket Man got out, but I wasn’t cheering, Paul. I was mad! I started yelling, ‘That isn’t what happened last week! That isn’t what happened last week!’” and, ““He didn’t get out of the cockadoodie car! It went over the edge and he was still inside it! Do you understand that?”

Paul realizes that he can’t just write a quick book to please Annie, he is going to have to put real thought into this novel – because if he doesn’t bring Misery back to life somehow, Paul knows Annie is going to kill him.

Can a writer write for his life?  That was also a theme of The Dark Half.  Not just his dinner or his house. . . can he write if his life depends on it?  You betcha! But not joyfully.  Writing done at gun point is not the result of the overflow of the heart.  It’s mechanical and painful.

The typewriter sat there, smirking at him. “I hate you,” Paul said morosely, and looked out the window. (Misery)

And

TRYING TO HAVE AN IDEA wasn’t the same thing as GETTING AN IDEA. GETTING AN IDEA was a more humble way of saying I am inspired, or Eureka! My muse has spoken! (Misery)

4. What Annoys Me
Thus far, I only have one major complaint: I do not enjoy reading Mr. Sheldon’s writing.  I enjoy Stephen King very much!  But King feels the need to take us inside the novel Sheldon is writing. . . page by page, thus far!  I honestly don’t care about Ian, Geoffrey, or the doctor or the rest of them!  Very naughty of me, I know.

King doesn’t just give us a taste of Misery’s Return – he gives us full chapters.  If I were not listening to the book, I would be tempted to scan at this point.