Some writers are afforded long lives and therefore have the chance to develop and contribute over a long period. Others have died tragically early, perhaps having penned one or two great ones, but they weren't able to gain their proper place in history. And there is some luck, good fortune that plays a role there.
Back when Faulkner and Hemingway were around, it wasn't so uncommon for men to die in their 60s (they both did) and still have lived a full life. Burroughs and Mailer lived to their 80s, but some of the real, real greats, like Fitzgerald, Kerouac and Oscar Wilde died in their 40s. So did Carson McCullers, who was pretty amazing herself. And then there's John Kennedy Toole, who offed himself in his 30s because he couldn't get A Confederacy of Dunces published -- and it was subsequently awarded a Pulitzer.
Wilde particularly got screwed. After his fiasco with that royal boy and hard prison time, he was finished, only writing a few sad and dark pieces and then dying in Paris. He was on track to surpass Shakespeare, I believe, and also, I don't really believe Shakespeare wrote everything he's given credit for -- not even half (and there's tons of evidence to back that).
My hope is that I am granted the time to do the work I know I can do.
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