The legendary writer Ray Bradbury died yesterday. He was a giant amongst men that showed me through his words that a man could be an adult and still see the world through a child’s eyes. I heard about his death this morning on the radio as I dropped my wife off at work. I found myself feeling just a little sad as I crossed the 520 bridge.
Bradbury was the sort of writer that loved words. He wrote every day because that was the best possible world for him. A true inspiration. I found myself selfishly thinking retrospectively.
The last year something clicked for me. I started to write better and more often. My ambition faded and was replaced by the love of the craft. I still have the hunger, but it is less important than enjoying the journey.
I am now 39 and I would love to live to 91. That requires some changes to my life habits. I started going to the gym. Technology has completely changed the exercise experience. I get emails from my gym letting me know how well I did each day. My current technical writing contract ends this week and so I am looking forward to a couple of weeks of solid writing time. I read a bit how Peter David does different projects and manages to be so prolific. He works on particular projects at specific times every day. I wonder if that will help. I am going to push to try to do that during my break.
There is a story about Bradbury that says everything possible about the man. If it isn’t true, it should be. When Bradbury was 12, he visited a traveling carnival. A stage magician brought him on stage, tapped him with a sword, and gave the following command to the young boy: Live Forever! Bradbury immediately went home and starting writing.
Live forever, Ray Bradbury.