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Misery

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The anger sparked again. Anger at her obdurate density, anger that she could actually kidnap him keep him prisoner here, force him into a choice between drinking dirty rinse water from a floor-bucket or suffering the pain of his hattered legs and then, on top of all that, find the nerve to criticize the best thing he had ever written!

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You're good, she said gently. I knew you would be. Just reading your books, I knew you would be. A man who could think of Misery Chastain, first think of her and then breathe life into her, could be nothing else.