When I was in middle school, I got my hands on a well-worn paperback copy of "Salem's Lot," one of Stephen King's early works, at a neighborhood garage sale. I'd never heard of the author before, but I'd recently discovered "The Colour Out of Space" by H.P. Lovecraft, so my appetite for all kinds of horror writing was piqued.

Of course, the vampires of "Salem's Lot" have very little in common with the Cthulhu-driven chills of Lovecraft, but I was hooked from the first 50 pages. Of course, King's books weren't allowed in the school library and my allowance didn't permit the purchase of much in the way of new books, but I haunted used book stores and garage sales hunting for anything else he'd written.

Next, I found "Carrie," and being a fat kid who was also perpetually the "new kid" thanks to frequent moves, the themes of alienation and revenge spoke to me. While I didn't want to end up like the titular heroine, the idea of using my mental mojo to put the whammy on certain of my tormentors was highly attractive.

When my father remarried in 1982, I learned that my stepmom's younger sister was a King fan, and thus I got access to his new stuff in hardcover, right after she finished reading it. First up was "Night Shift," a short story collection that even today is one of my favorite books to re-read. Every story is a dark gem, with "Battleground" and "Strawberry Spring" being my favorites. Then came "Christine," which led to my irrational fear of car grilles, and "The Shining," which cured me of any desire to move to Colorado.

Then, I discovered "The Stand." I actually started reading it in hardcover, then bought the paperback for myself and read that poor book to pieces. By the time I replaced it, it had been read eight times, dragged over hell's half-acre, dropped in the bathtub and bleached by the sun. The story was (and is) a masterpiece of post-apocalyptic fiction. I've always argued with those who call it a horror book. Certainly it has horrific elements, but the broader themes of community, metaphysics and the seductive evil of gratified desires go far beyond any genre.

The characters were what got to me. I can't think of any other book save Tolkien's works that, years after I read them, I can still remember the names and backgrounds of all the characters. I felt like I knew Stu and Frannie. I hated Harold Lauder, and Randall Flagg gave me the screaming creeps. Of course, King fans will know that Steve wasn't quite done with The Walkin' Dude, as he showed up in "The Eyes Of The Dragon" and throughout "The Dark Tower" series.

You can tell the greatest story in the world, but if the characters in the tale don't resonate with the readers, it will fail. I've never met a King character I didn't feel like I knew well by the end of the story. I didn't always want to know them (this means you, Pennywise), but I did.

Since "The Stand," I've followed King's work closely. Even during my lean years, I'd find the cash to buy each new book when it hit the shelves, and when I discovered the wonders of Amazon.com, his was the first name I put in for new book alerts. From the great stuff such as "The Dead Zone" and "It" to the epic "Dark Tower" series, I've slurped up every word. I haven't been thrilled by everything he's written. I thought "The Tommyknockers" would have made a great novella, but meandered in its published form. "Gerald's Game" didn't do much for me, and "Thinner" was pretty darned predictable even for a high-schooler. However, I've never considered one of his books a waste of time, which happens with a lot of things I read.

Over the years, like a comedy actor trying out drama or horror (Robin Williams or Jim Carrey, anyone?), King has moved out of the horror mold on occasion. The results have been outstanding. "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" is just flat magical, especially for any baseball fan, and "Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption," which became one of the greatest movies of the 20th century, is worth the price of "Different Seasons" by itself.

He's dabbled in nonfiction, too. For anyone considering a career as a writer, King's "On Writing" is a must-read. It will both terrify and inspire you. At the very least, it will dispel any myths that writing is a casual or part-time business.

With his latest, "Lisey's Story," we see a more evolved King. He's learned that the scariest monsters live in our minds, in what we are capable of doing to each other. The novel has a strong supernatural aspect, of course, but the meat of the story lies in the love between the title character and her late husband, whose fame as a writer leads to the conflict that drives the plot. The obsessed fan is an old theme, but King gives it new life and new perspective here, making it both more understandable and more terrifying in the process.

Maybe this is just another writing experiment. Maybe the next King tome will have a clown in a water tower, instead of a sewer. Maybe Flagg will come back as a demonic truck or Plymouth Fury.

Last year's "Cell" proved that Steve can still bring the gore, with cell phone-created zombies wreaking havoc across the countryside in a fine bit of technological horror, but "Lisey's Story" to me shows where he's headed in his writer's evolution. He doesn't need the monster in the closet (or the clown in the sewers) to scare us anymore ... he can find plenty in our own minds.

Coming soon in these very pages: Another favorite author, F. Paul Wilson, has granted me an interview. We'll chat about Repairman Jack and other topics, and I'll hit him up for a role in the movie version of the books.