Ah yeah, Stephen King.
In addition to the forementioned “can’t wrap the damn thing up at the end” problem, he gets these turns of phrases stuck in his head and, like a tongue that keeps going back to a broken tooth, he can’t leave them alone but has his characters keep repeating them. Smucking. Getting up to didoes. Deadfall.
And in a similar vein he can start off with a cute and compelling insight into how folks’ minds actually work, including the inelegant and silly and embarrassing things that run through them, but he’ll often write something that apparently amuses or impresses him (especially if it is a bit vulgar or obscene) and he elaborates on it and elaborates some more until he’s gone way over the top with it. His believable characters morph into cackling mugging Tourette’s syndrome sufferers, taking up the theme and blowing it into larger and larger proportions.