I can tell you the exact moment I discovered Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. I was about fifteen and fortunate enough to be on a trip to England with my father and stepmother. Though I considered myself to be lucky, I was also in dire straits—my Walkman was dead, I’d read all my books, and I was stuck in a car with two adults who were constantly fighting and all of my coping mechanisms had been used up. I was desperate for a book. I think any lifelong reader will understand the panic of being stuck somewhere stressful without a good book. (Or really any book, for that matter.)
We had stopped to see some famous rock circle—I can’t remember which one, only that it wasn’t Stonehenge. However, I do remember that they had a little gift shop, and in that little gift shop amongst the knickknacks and postcards was a single spinner rack of paperback fantasy titles written by a man named Terry Pratchett. I’d never heard of Terry Pratchett, and I didn’t care. I grabbed the first two and proceeded to beg my stepmother for them. Another lucky stroke in my life—both my mother and my stepmother were readers and they almost always supported my book habit. I’m forever grateful for this.
There are a few other authors that I remember discovering so clearly, though in very different ways. My stepmom handed me David Eddings thinking that I’d like his books based on the covers. My brother, Darin, introduced me to Ursula Le Guin. My Grandma Lee lead to me discovering Laurel K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake books when I was stuck on yet another stressful family outing and out of books. We’d stopped in to a grocery store and she handed me The Lunatic Café saying, “This looks weird. You’re weird. I think you’ll like it.” My mom read and reread the Chronicles of Narnia to my brothers and me over the years.
I loved all of them and they certainly all impacted me as a reader and a writer, but none of them in quite the way that Terry Pratchett did, because the Discworld books were the first to really prove to me that fantasy books could be funny and smart. They were silly and deep at the same time. Since I was constantly being told to stop being silly and that my sarcasm would get me nowhere, Pratchett’s books were a validation.
Rincewind was a terrible wizard and a total coward and I understood him in a way that I didn’t understand the usual heroes that threw themselves into battle and trekked across whole countries to right wrongs. I approved of those things, but I’d never done them. I didn’t really know what being a hero felt like, but I’d been a Rincewind. Sadly, not a wizard, but I’d been afraid. I’d been overwhelmed. I wasn’t a hero and I was awkward and weird. Rincewind was a character I could get behind.
The deeper I delved, the more the books resonated for me. There was hopefulness and a kindness to the humor along with the bite of satire. To this day I read Pratchett’s books and laugh and then suddenly stop and reel at the bigger ideas that he’s thrown in with all that humor.
Up until that point, I’d been trying to write stories and most of them fell into the epic fantasy or horror genres, and they weren’t really working. I couldn’t seem to articulate the kind of story I wanted, because I was trying to be serious. I don’t know why… Serious has never worked particularly well for me in life, but there you go. Once I’d read Terry Pratchett, well, a light didn’t go off per se, but the fuse was lit. I could combine my love of humor writing and my love of horror and fantasy, and it would be okay.
As a published author, I had my very first book event in Portland at Powell’s and while I was there I happily discovered an illustrated copy of Wee Free Men, the first Tiffany Aching book. (Which, much to my horror, has since disappeared from my library.) I have a soft spot for many of Discworld’s inhabitants, but much like Rincewind, I got Tiffany in a way that made a lot of things click into place. Tiffany is a witch, not because she’s special or magic or gifted, but because she’s so very practical. The village doesn’t have a witch. Tiffany not only understands the necessity of the witch role, she wants to right the wrong made against the former village witch. There is a need to be filled, so she puts on her boots, grabs her frying pan and gets to it. This was such a wonderful departure from the Chosen One scenario or the handwringing heroines I’d been reading. Not that I don’t enjoy those, too, but there was something so appealing to me about Tiffany’s pragmatism. She reminds me of Suzette Haden Elgin’s character, Responsible of Brightwater. Responsible was practical and got things done, paying little heed to the people who told her she couldn’t. I wish I could ask Terry if he’d read those books, and if Tiffany was a hat-tip to Responsible.
In one of those rare moments of fate, I got to see Terry Pratchett speak. After my first book had come out, I’d picked up a job at a local bakery and coffee shop. We were struggling financially and I needed a steady paycheck now. The bakery was attached to a bookstore, which appealed to me for obvious reasons. One day on my break, one of the booksellers mentioned that Terry Pratchett had an event at Town Hall the next day, which had somehow passed by my radar. I wanted desperately to go, but it was a ticketed event, which means I had to purchase the new book in order to attend. I have never had any problem throwing my cash down for a new hardcover book, mind you; in fact, I prefer getting books in hardcover if I love the author, because I know they will last longer. (Also because I know the author gets paid a little more for those book sales, which is nice.) That being said, I had about enough cash for the book and nothing else. We were living paycheck to paycheck and broke, something that gets a little less charming when you have a kid. But it was a chance to see Terry Pratchett speak. Live. In the same room as me. At this point, he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and I didn’t know if he would ever tour again. He had himself to look after, and as much as I was greedy for more books, I didn’t want them at the expense of his health.
So I spent my last thirty bucks on a copy of Snuff and a chance to see Terry Pratchett speak, and I don’t regret a single penny. I knew going in that Terry wouldn’t be signing anything or meeting anyone—again, the organizers were trying to protect his health; touring is an exhausting business at the best of times. To get there in time I had to go straight from work, smelling like coffee and looking a bit of a mess. I didn’t care. I got to sit in a room with people dressed as wizards and listen to one of my favorite authors speak. It was wonderful.
Then, a surprise—they announced that a lucky few would get to meet Terry Pratchett after the event. If we opened our books and had a red ticket, we were in. I opened my copy of Snuff and there it was, a glorious red ticket. I was going to get to meet Terry Pratchett.
I don’t usually get starstruck. I’m pretty good at remembering that they’re really just people at the end of the day. I had no problem meeting Julie Andrews when she came to my bookstore. She was utterly charming and we discussed my time in New Orleans after she saw the fleur-de-lis on my hoodie. Occasionally, though, it happens—I get completely and utterly starstruck (only with authors. And it turns out that Pratchett in particular managed to turn my brain into pudding.)
After the event, the red ticket folks were herded downstairs and into a line. I think it was one of the most freaked out lines I’ve ever really seen; people ahead of me could barely speak because of nerves. Usually I wouldn’t have cared about my own nervousness, but rather unfortunately, because I also write books, the booksellers handling the event knew who I was. They would likely see me again at events and things and I didn’t want to be the author who lost their freaking mind over Terry Pratchett. I was trying rather desperately to play it cool, and failing.
The line edged closer and I attempted to form some sort of coherent thought. What I did remember was that if I’d ever met Terry Pratchett, I’d told my friends that I’d ask him for a hug…which is funny on several levels because I’m not really a hugger. I don’t like touching strangers, generally. But I insisted that I would hug Terry Pratchett so they should likely get the bail money ready, in case I was ever arrested for what could be possibly categorized as assault depending on the enthusiasm and aggressiveness of said hug.
When it was finally my turn, I managed through many garbled words to get my story across. I was ready to be turned down. I understood that hugging strangers was weird, and that’s what I was to him; I didn’t think that he owed me anything at all. He’d already given me so much.
But Terry just tilted his head and looked at me. “You want me to hug you?”
“Yes,” I said. “If it’s okay with you. No pressure.”
“Okay,” he said, and stood up. The bookstore staff kindly asked me if I wanted a picture and I quickly handed them my phone. Terry put his arms around me and then leaned back and said, “I hope I’m not doing anything inappropriate.”
I hastily told him no, he absolutely wasn’t doing anything inappropriate at all. To which he replied, with a completely straight face, “Do you want me to?”
I cracked up, and I was able to relax a little. Making a joke was likely a reflex for him, but for me it was one more gift, because suddenly I was comfortable. The bookseller snapped the picture and I thanked Terry and left. It was an utterly perfect moment. Since I was now shaking too hard to drive home, I walked two blocks to a bar that my friend bartended at and proceeded to drink a glass of whiskey and calm down. I’m fairly certain that I babbled to her the whole time. I had hugged Terry Pratchett, and it was amazing. I’m so very glad that I went.

I haven’t read The Shepherd’s Crown yet. Despite my love for Tiffany Aching, it feels too much like saying goodbye, and I’m not ready. So I’m saving it. Someday, I’ll be ready and I’m okay with waiting.
On occasion, at my own book events, I meet a reader that’s a nervous wreck. They’re shaking. They can’t talk. They clutch my book and tell me that they can’t believe I’m there. And it’s so, so weird to be on that end of things. I’m proud of my books, yes, but I don’t see myself through the same lens. I don’t really understand why they’re so freaked out to meet me—I’m not that big of a deal. Even four books in, it all still feels too new to me. So I tell them that I understand, because every author has at least one story where we’ve met another author and lost our composure. I tell them about the time that I made Terry Pratchett hug me, and I know that in that moment, my reader and I completely understand each other. And I hug them, if they want, and it isn’t hard for me, because my brain doesn’t categorize my readers as strangers.
But even if it were difficult, I would do it, because of that photo. The picture may be poor quality because my phone was crap, and I look rough from pulling coffee shots all day, but I don’t care. I am being appropriately hugged by Terry Pratchett—savior of car trips, champion of humor, kindness, and practical witchery. Terry Pratchett, whose books not only changed everything, but continue to remind me why funny books are important. That’s all that really matters, in the end.
Lish McBride currently resides in Seattle, spending most of her time at her day job at Third Place Books in Lake Forest Park. The rest of her time is divided between writing, reading, and Twitter, where she either discusses her desire for a nap or her love for kittens. (Occasionally ponies.) Her debut novel, Hold Me Closer, Necromancer was named an American Library Association Best Book for Young Adults and was a finalist for the YALSA William C. Morris Award. Her other works include Necromancing the Stone, Firebug, and Pyromantic.
I understand so much about saving The Shepherd’s Crown. I’ve been doing that too.
Thank you Trish for this rememberence. Terry Pratchett’s books are amongst my favorites of all times I’ve read most of them multiple times and expect to continue to read them for the rest of life). It’s wonderful to get to read about him as a person, as it only reinforce my love for him and his works.
Stupid autocorrect. My apologies for missing the inadvertent mis-correction of your name :
I’m glad to know I’m not the only one putting off reading The Shepherd’s Crown. I just reread Mort again, or Snuff, or Witches Abroad, or Soul Music, or Hogfather…………….
Oh, good Lord. I am with my people, indeed. Currently rereading the City Watch books now, and I, too, am saving The Shepherd’s Crown. I look at it on the shelf periodically, and give it a pat, but… not yet.
I’m right there with you on so much of this. Discworld was such a huge discovery for my at the local university’s library in the early 90’s, and I’ve kept up with everything Pratchett ever since. And I got to hear him speak and to shake his hand and say hello at a Snuff event too!
And as for that last book: I gathered all my Discworld books from my parents’ house the Christmas after The Shepherd’s Crown was released and I’ve been slowly re-reading my way through the entire series before I read the last book. I’m on Raising Steam now and reading it with a deliberate, desperate slowness, knowing that once it’s done, it will be time to start The Shepherd’s Crown and it will be the last new one I ever get to read.
Thanks for sharing the wonderful memory. I can relate to a lot of what you wrote, although I was lucky that when I met the great man, circumstances allowed me not to be nervous.
I read The Shepherd’s Crown not long after it came out, despite the yawning gap in my soul from the knowledge that this was the last time I would read a new Pratchett book.
And I cried. I cried when I started it. I cried when *stuff happens* and I cried when I got to the end. I still cry every time I read it, and I’ve even got slightly damp eyes just writing this.
I think I’ve cried more about Terry than I have over most of the members of my family who’ve died.
I never met him, although I did see him talk at least once. My memory is telling me that he was being interviewed by Douglas Adams, and that I’d actually gone because of DNA, and hadn’t read any Pratchett at that point, but my memory might be making things up (it might have been the other way around, or there may have been another author involved. I am sure it was in Cheltenham town hall as part of the literature festival though). I do remember that he came across as the wonderful person that he appeared to be in every public appearance or interview.
I’m with #8. I read Shepherd’s Crown right away. I cried at a lot of places in the book, often places you shouldn’t. I’m tearing up now, and I am not a cryer usually.
Pratchett’s characters always resonated with me in ways few authors’ characters do. All of us are part Nobby Nobs and part Rincewind and part Librarian in a way that we aren’t part fantasy heroes, even when we like to read about them.
I’m so jealous. What a wonderful experience. I felt the same way about The Shepherd’s Crown, but read it as soon as it came out anyway. His most emotional book for me. Thank you for sharing your story.
What a lovely memory. Thank you for sharing it!
I met him a handful of times. The second/third time, he greeted me loudly with (and apparently I’m not the only one), “Hi, Philippa. Didn’t recognise you with your clothes on!” [Nothing inappropriate had happened, I swear!!].
I also haven’t read The Shepherd’s Crown yet – for the same reason but without the hug. I was, oddly, both very early and very late to the series. I read The Colour of Magic not long after it came out and then nothing else in the series for decades. It was a friend snickering in the next room (nothing inappropriate!) that got me started again. I still have a few left and have been stretching them out, not wanting to get to the end. Sigh…
Thanks for sharing this beautiful memory and the picture to go with it.
I met him at least twice, and the latter time he remembered me from the first.
He was opening a new branch of WH Smith in Winchester so I combined a visit to my sister who was at the college with going to see Pterry. I carried with me a shoebox, which I think at that point contained all of his books that I owned, with the intention of asking him if he would kindly sign one of them; for some reason I also had a VHS copy of the adaptation of Truckers which I had enjoyed. I arrived at the store massively early, because I like mooching around bookstores and I wanted to make sure of a place in the queue. By a huge stroke of good fortune, Pterry was also early and I said hello (as you do in a British bookstore ;-). He blew me away with his kindness, signing not just one but all of the books I had brought plus the VHS box.
Then I met him again, in July 1996 (I know because it was the weekend before our wedding and the two of us escaped from the preparation hustle ;-) and he remembered me and my shoebox…and again proceeded to sign all of them.
I have them right here, I can (just about) reach out and touch them. I have all the Discworld books and most of all the other stuff he published (which gets short shrift in comparison) and they occupy a special place in my heart (and on my bookshelves when I finally make enough space for all of them together ;-).
The exception is The Shepherd’s Crown, which I also have not been able to bring myself to read yet. It sits downstairs next to my personal computer waiting patiently for me.
If you were at a stone circle with a gift shop and it wasn’t Stonehenge, it was almost certainly Avebury. I can’t think of another stone circle in England with any shops near it, although there could be something I’m forgetting.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avebury
As a librarian, I keep seeing people borrowing and reading Shepherds Crown. But I just can´t. Not yet. It is so wonderful to discover that I´m not the only one. Also, I got spoiled, so I know what happens, but in my mind it won´t be real untill I´ve read it.
That’s a lovely story! Thanks for sharing it, Lish. They say you should never meet your heroes, but I suppose Pterry is a glorious exception (as he was in so many other ways). I’m currently re-reading the whole series in order as part of a podcast, and have decided to wait to read The Shepherds Crown for the first time when we reach it in the show. The whole project has given me a renewed appreciation for the Discworld, but from a distance tSC is acquiring a sad patina of finality. I’m looking forward to reading ‘new’ (to me) Discworld, but also sad that it will be the last time. Still! Pratchett was so fantastically prolific that at least we have ample re-reading material to fall back on! (and so much of it really does reward on reread – there’s deceptive depth in almost every book).
Beautiful story Lish – thank you! :)
Tickets are still available for the North American Discworld Convention in New Orleans https://nadwcon2017.org/ where you can share your love of Discworld with other fans.
I don’t tear up.
I teared up.
Thanks for sharing this. I cried, but happy crying.
I met him once at a Waterstones in Truro, Cornwall, where me and a friend convinced my Mum to drive us there after school. We queued in our school uniforms, and he sent an assistant to go and buy bags of sweets to hand of because the queue was so long. Two tenage girls stood out just a bit.
I was terrified. He was lovely. I treasure those two signed books and my friend does hers.
We were lucky to have had him in this world for a while.
GNU Sir Terry.
Talk about magical thinking. Until I read Shepherd’s Crown pterry won’t really be dead. After I finally give in, then he won’t really be dead until I stop quoting him and gifting his books to others.
Thanks for this article and for all the comments – it’s kind of been a mini wake, tears and laughs both …
I’m in the same boat. I managed to get through about 30 pages of The Shepherd’s Crown, then I had to stop. I still can’t bring myself to try again.
I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes. Reading about your experience, that so closely matches my own, how I discovered pTerry. His death felt as real and close as my father’s. And reading Shepard’s Crown was exactly that, saying good bye. You are going to cry, a lot. Good tears. It took m e year of looking at the book before I could read it. And I still tear up thinking that the end really has come.
I read The Shepherd’s Crown when it came out and again a week later and again a month later and teared up in the same places each time. I never met Sir Terry IRL but did have a very brief exchange with him on the CIX message boards so very many years ago! Sadly long before hug emojis :)
Thanks for your wonderful article, Lish and everyone for the comments. Very infrequently I find myself in a place I feel I can belong – this thread is one such place.
Thank you for sharing this story, I love Terry Pratchett & was lucky enough to meet him at a midnight signing in London for I Shall Wear Midnight with my Dad. We’d both need reading his books for years so getting to hear him talk and the get out books signed was just wonderful. We were also lucky enough to get tickets to the memorial event in London after he died, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed and cried so much in the same night but it was a wonderful tribute to an incredible man.
I was tempted to put off reading The Sheperd’s Crown but I just had to read it. That book broke me, I cried so much when reading it but it was partly good tears as well as sad ones. I don’t think there are many authors who can affect people as profoundly as Terry did & I will always be grateful that he left us with so many books to treasure and reread
Thank you so much for sharing this story. Not least because it is lovely to realize that I am not the only one who hasn’t read The Shepherd’s Crown because then it will be over.
I saw him at the Opera House in Sydney, I think it was in conversation with Garth Nix.
All these people dressed in long black coats.
The main story was that he described when he was a reporter and it seemed like he was telling us about the ‘first death 30 minutes later, work experience meaning something in those days’. He attended a railway suicide, he being outside the box, walked up the line and saw where the lady had waited. There was a packet of cigarettes.
Terry said “Now, just think for a moment, she stood by the track, and it would have taken maybe 20 -30 mins to smoke the packet, all the time the trains, one of which was going to kill her that were going past. Now what was going through this woman’s mind?” A pin could have been heard in the next street I swear.
To me, it showed the darkness but also the reality and power that Pratchett built into his books. To have to listen as a court reporter about sometimes what low lives of people show up, make it into his books like “I shall wear midnight” and make his fantasies more real than life.
Anyway, he had brought over on the plane about 20 kg of teeth from the Hogfather movie.
At the end, he started throwing them all over the place. He threw a handful behind him and they went all over a woman, and he said “Madam, I’m sorry I hit you in the face with some teeth – they must have been eye teeth!” This was when he was already going downhill with the dread disease.
I also started reading Shepherds but stopped. I am now completing reading the whole series of Discworld in the one year, and hopefully I will read it this time.