I had a chance encounter with my favorite author, Ray Bradbury, when were standing at a traffic signal, at the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Beverly Drive, in Beverly Hills, one summer evening.

I make it a practice to have in my hip pocket what I call, "The Great Question.” It is the single, most important query that you can direct to your favorite people.

In this case, I asked; "What did you think of Francois Truffaut's film version of Fahrenheit 451?”

Without hesitation, he looked at me and replied, "It brought me to tears.”

Me too.

Ah, isn't this what writing should do, uniting in common sympathy, creators, audiences, in wonderful admiration of the possible, the sublime?

Compare this to the reality of life for most writers who try to produce only that which will sell, that which will appeal to a fickle marketplace.

Bradbury, for one, says you can't be a happy writer this way, trying to write to the market. In fact, he says such an undertaking will only result in doom.

You have to write what you love, and forget about the market.

When you do, you can enjoy your own work, and when it is first-class, it too, can bring you to smile, or to tea

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