"He Was the First Man Among Us"

Robert Jordan, mega-bestselling author of the Wheel of Time series, has passed away at age 58.

Wow. I feel guilty about all those jokes I made about how the Wheel of Time never ends. Jordan began the series in 1990, and was working on what was supposed to be the twelfth and final volume when he died yesterday. I was aware that he'd been diagnosed with a blood disease, but I always liked to think he'd manage to finish it.

I know that, according to his blog (the server is, understandably, experiencing difficulties due to traffic, so it might take a couple of tries), he had made audio tapes and outlines. Last weekend he told his family members the ending. So it seems as if the book will be written after all... by someone. But he will never get the chance to finish his life's work.

I am actually quite upset about this. Sure, I'd criticized the books in recent years, but so have lots of people. But that doesn't change the fact that his books were my introduction to fantasy. I can't really think of my high school reading years without remembering the Wheel of Time. My dad and I would compete to be the first one to buy the new book when it came out. I think we've been reading since about 1994. That's thirteen years.

I can't help thinking that the worst part about it is him not getting to finish what had become the definitive work of his career (and arguably the definitive high fantasy work of the 1990's). Frankly, it terrifies me on a personal level, more than I expected. I'm always putting off writing, pushing it back. This isn't the time to go for the novel, I'm too busy working to write, I've still got plenty of time. Time, time, time.

But it's all bullshit, isn't it? I know many of Robert Jordan's millions of readers will spend this evening flipping through one of his books, in memoriam. It's a worthy thing to do. But not for me.

I will be writing.

Memento mori...