by Stephen King
You may not like what Roland found at the top, but that’s a different matter entirely. And don’t write me any angry letters about it, either, because I won’t answer them. There’s nothing left to say on the subject. I wasn’t exactly crazy about the ending, either, if you want to know the truth, but it’s the right ending.
The only ending, in fact. You have to remember that I don’t make these things up, not exactly; I only write down what I see.
Readers will speculate on how “real” the Stephen King is who appears in these pages. The answer is “not very,” although the one Roland and Eddie meet in Bridgton (Song of Susannah) is very close to the Stephen King I remember being at that time.
As for the Stephen King who shows up in this final volume… well, let’s put it this way: my wife asked me if I would kindly not give fans of the series very precise directions to where we live or who we really are. I agreed to do that. Not because I wanted to, exactly-part of what makes this story go, I think, is the sense of the fictional world bursting through into the real one-but because this happens to be my wife’s life as well as mine, and she should not be penalized for either loving me or living with me. So I have fictionalized the geography of western Maine to a great extent, trusting readers to grasp the intent of the fiction and to understand why I treated my own part in it as I did. And if you feel a need to drop in and say hello, please think again. My family and I have a good deal less privacy than we used to, and I have no wish to give up any more, may it do ya fine. My books are my way of knowing you. Let them be your way of knowing me, as well. It’s enough. And on behalf of Roland and all his ka-tet-now scattered, say sorry-I thank you for coming along, and sharing this adventure with me. I never worked harder on a project in my life, and I know-none better, alas-that it has not been entirely successful. What work of make-believe ever is?
And yet for all of that, I would not give back a single minute of the time that I have lived in Roland’s where and when. Those days in Mid-World and End-World were quite extraordinary.
Those were days when my imagination was so clear I could smell the dust and hear the creak of leather.
Stephen King August 21, 2003
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