If there is a bright continuum of writers that contains both Terry Pratchett and Brian Pressley, then Terry Pratchett is a star in the family of the blue-white supergiants and Brian Pressley is something like an LED flashlight. That’s not meant to be an expression of false modesty on my part, either. Pratchett managed to produce over 50 novels and received dozens of awards, including a knighthood, and if I ever found myself within striking distance of a writing career like that I would probably explode. I think it’s fair to say that I’m at the beginning of a writing career that could go like that, but I understand that I would have to be driven nearly beyond reason and that the fates would have to be kind for me to continue along the path like the one he eventually followed.

I think that people often feel compelled to elevate their heroes or role models to godlike status after they die, but anyone familiar with all of Sir Terry’s books would have to concede that some of the early books don’t have the same polished feel as most of the newer books. Pratchett only started working full-time as a writer in 1987, and as such perhaps it’s not unusual that I find it hard to compare Pyramids (1989) with a work of art like Thud! (2005).

I chuckled to myself once or twice as I read Pyramids and nodded occasionally as Pratchett cleverly skewered some goofy aspect of society or pointed out human foibles, but even though Pyramids won the British Science Fiction Award in 1989, at no point did Pratchett tear my heart out of my chest and nearly kill me as he did in the pages of Thud! If you run into me in real life and want to know what I’m talking about, I’ll be happy to tell you, but I’d rather work on my writing skills some more before I attempt to describe how he did it in a blog post.

I guess my point is that I have had the rare joy of watching a fun writer become a good writer, and then a good writer become a master as each new book arrived over the course of 30 years or more. I have a vague feeling of where I am on that journey, and as I plow ahead, I can only hope that someday I will be half the writer that Terry Pratchett was and that I find a way to affect even one person with my writing as he affected me with his.

So what prompted me to make this comparison and to write this post in the first place? When I received the physical copy of my first fiction paperback, I took a few pictures, skimmed it to make sure it was everything I dreamed, and then I decided to put it on my bookshelf. In my house, the books are alphabetized by author and then by title, (as they should be), so this happened: