I read this article on CNN a while back, and it inspired me a great deal.
If Clarke and Pohl, with all their age-related disabilities, can produce a novel, then why can’t I? I’m young (my 35 years as compared to their 91 for Clarke and 89 for Pohl), healthy, intelligent, and creative. Other than a severe lack of time on my hands, there is nothing stopping me from producing quality writing. The lack of time issue can be resolved with less time in front of the idiot box, and more time banging away at the keyboard. Now that my vacation is over, I feel it is time to prune the idiot box time back and see what I can do with those extra hours that I will gain each week.
Am I ever going to produce work at the level of Clarke or Pohl? Maybe. I honestly doubt it. That glorious pair of writers have more literary ability in their toenail clippings than I have in my entire existence. I’m not bashing my abilities, mind you, but it’s like comparing the brightness of a distant star to Sol during Summer Solstice. Sure, I have brilliance and abilities, but it’s hard to see my light when standing anywhere near one of The Greats of fiction.
Rest well, Arthur. Your brilliance will shine on longer than you think it will.
Thank you, Frederik. Your Herculean efforts to bring us the vision of Clarke’s last glimmering light are greatly appreciated.