This is really raw. I had half an hour in my hotel room this afternoon, so I wrote this as fast as I could for my blog, and then the Guardian asked, so I sent it to the Guardian, and an hour later it was up on their site. It’s an attempt to talk about Ray Bradbury today.
Yesterday afternoon I was in a studio recording an audiobook version of short story I had written for Ray Bradbury’s 90th birthday. It’s a monologue called The Man Who Forgot Ray Bradbury, and was a way of talking about the impact that Ray Bradbury had on me as a boy, and as an adult, and, as far as I could, about what he had done to the world. And I wrote it last year as a love letter and as a thank you and as a birthday present for an author who made me dream, taught me about words and what they could accomplish, and who never let me down as a reader or as a person as I grew up.
Last week, at dinner, a friend told me that when he was a boy of 11 or 12 he met Ray Bradbury. When Bradbury found out that he wanted to be a writer, he invited him to his office and spent half a day telling him the important stuff: if you want to be a writer, you have to write. Every day. Whether you feel like it or not. That you can’t write one book and stop. That it’s work, but the best kind of work. My friend grew up to be a writer, the kind who writes and supports himself through writing.
Ray Bradbury was the kind of person who would give half a day to a kid who wanted to be a writer when he grew up.
The whole thing is up at http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/jun/06/ray-bradbury-neil-gaiman-appreciation