Stephen King's House
On a picture-perfect street in Bangor, Maine sits a pretty Victorian house with the strangest wrought iron fence I've ever seen. Spiders, webs, bats, it's got 'em all. Of course, it's all just a joke, but the guy who lives there, Stephen King, is one of America's best selling and most prolific authors. He owns the market on horror, and despite his creepy subjects and his history of personal demons, it turns out he is a pretty nice guy. While we were vacationing in Maine, it seemed that almost everyone we met let us know about the time when they met him, and they all commented on how nice/great/wonderful he was. He supports innumerable local charities, libraries, Little League teams, and is easily the most beloved man in all of Maine. Surprisingly, although the gate was closed, the driveway to his house was wide open and his car was parked outside. I guess he knows nobody there would want to harm him knowingly. He also happens to be the author of one of the best books I've ever read on how to actually put the pen to the paper called On Writing. His main take home point: avoid adverbs. He calls them Tom Swifties, after a series of jokes they used to tell back in the day (40's?, 50's?). An example: "Let's play hockey, Tom said puckishly." Duly noted, carefully.