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.