It’s not worth doing something unless someone, somewhere, would much rather you weren’t doing it.
Terry Pratchett, from the foreword to The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Fantasy, by David Pringle
I'm sitting, rather stunned ... browsing 'round the internet reading variations on the same reality: Terry Pratchett died today, at home, in England.
He must have set up ahead of time the announcement that went out over his Twitter feed ... one of his most important characters, Death, saying in unmistakeable capitals: “AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER.”
... and the curiosity of the author as he began his next journey: “Terry took Death’s arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black desert under the endless night.”
Pratchett was good friends with author Neil Gamon, who wrote a while back about the coming death of Pratchett:
“As Terry walks into the darkness much too soon, I find myself raging too: at the injustice that deprives us of – what? Another 20 or 30 books? Another shelf-full of ideas and glorious phrases and old friends and new, of stories in which people do what they really do best, which is use their heads to get themselves out of the trouble they got into by not thinking? ... “I rage at the imminent loss of my friend. And I think, ‘What would Terry do with this anger?’ Then I pick up my pen, and I start to write.”
So far, this little note is all I've written ... and, of course, most of the words aren't even mine. I'm feeling a little numb.
But I'm sure I'll start raging about something soon, as soon as I read the news or my emails, listen to the radio or television, start thinking about Prime Minister Harper ...
... I'm feeling energy already.