In "Zen in the Art of Writing" Ray Bradbury tells the story of how when he was just a wee lad (though Bradbury never actually refers to himself either as wee or lad), maybe 8 or 9 years of age, he loved loved loved Buck Rogers. But his friends teased him for it. That he was so obsessed with some sci fi comic book character. That was just silly. So, little Ray took all his stacks of Buck Rogers comic books and hid them away, under his bed, as I imagine it. Enough was enough.
A few weeks later, though, and young Ray starts feeling lousy and can't figure out why. He then realizes it's because he misses his beloved Buck Rogers. He, thusly, pulls back out his stash, dusts them off and says good riddance to those friends that had teased him.
In the book he speaks to what amazing fortune he had, to have figured out at such a young age what many of us don't learn till much laster in life (if ever).
He ends the anecdote by addressing the would-be-writer, saying that if your friends don't support your dream they aren't real friends. Go get new ones.
But who has the balls to do that? Do I? Do you?
What is with the "H"?
ReplyDeleteBoredom? Don't know. You'll be glad to know, though, that the 'h' has been returned to its rightful smaller case place. As they say in Japan, the nail that stands out gets the hammer.
ReplyDeleteTricky isn't it. No one should need to have balls for that (in a perfect, Mexican world).
ReplyDeleteRight, Javier. But again, sometimes hard to live in that perfect Mexican world when you live on the East side of Canada.
ReplyDelete