“Jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down.” This—writes Sam Weller in his introÂducÂtion to a 2010 interÂview with sci-fi and fanÂtaÂsy lumiÂnary Ray BradÂbury—was the author’s “lifeÂlong creÂdo.” Weller writes of disÂcovÂerÂing an unpubÂlished Paris Review interÂview from the 1970s in Bradbury’s garage, with a note from ediÂtor George PlimpÂton that read “a bit inforÂmal in places, maybe overÂly enthuÂsiÂasÂtic.” The irony of this judgÂment is that it is Bradbury’s enthuÂsiÂasm, his lack of forÂmalÂiÂty, which make him so comÂpelling and so copiÂous a writer and speakÂer. BradÂbury didn’t self-edit or secÂond guess much—his approach is best charÂacÂterÂized as fearÂless and pasÂsionÂate, just as he describes his writÂing process:
I type my first draft quickÂly, impulÂsiveÂly even. A few days latÂer I retype the whole thing and my subÂconÂscious, as I retype, gives me new words. Maybe it’ll take retypÂing it many times until it is done. SomeÂtimes it takes very litÂtle reviÂsion.
It’s that unfetÂtered expresÂsion of his subÂconÂscious that BradÂbury disÂcussÂes in the short clip above, in which he re-invigÂoÂrates all the sort of carpe diem clichĂ©s one hears so often by framÂing them not as self-help sugÂgesÂtions but as imperÂaÂtives for a full and healthy life. RespondÂing in the moment, says BradÂbury, refusÂing to “put off till tomorÂrow… what I must do, right now,” allows him to “find out what my secret self needs, wants, desires with all its heart.” For BradÂbury, writÂing is much more than a forÂmal exerÂcise or a speÂcialÂized craft—it is a vital expresÂsion of his full humanÂiÂty and a means of “cleansÂing the stream” of his mind: “We belong only by doing,” he says, “and we own only by doing, and we love only by doing…. If you want an interÂpreÂtaÂtion of life and love, that would be the closÂest thing I could come to.”
BradÂbury doesn’t limÂit his phiÂlosÂoÂphy to the writÂing life; he advoÂcates for everyÂone an unabashed emoÂtionÂal engageÂment with the world. For him, the man (and woman, we might preÂsume), who canÂnot “laugh freely,” cry, or “be violent”—which he defines in subÂliÂmatÂing terms as any physÂiÂcal or creÂative activity—is a “sick man.” Bradbury’s “overÂly enthuÂsiÂasÂtic” exploÂrations of creÂative pasÂsion were almost as much a part of his outÂput as his ficÂtion. His interÂviews, teleÂvised and in print, are inspirÂing for this reaÂson: he is nevÂer coy or preÂtenÂtious but pushÂes othÂers to aspire to the same kind of authenÂtic joy he seemed to take in everyÂthing he did.
By the way, the first perÂson we see above is legÂendary WarnÂer Bros. aniÂmaÂtor Chuck Jones (as one Youtube comÂmenter says, we get in this clip “two visionÂarÂies for the price of one”). Bradbury’s “vitalÂiÂty,” says Jones, “rubs off on the peoÂple who work with him.” And, he might have added, all of the peoÂple who read and lisÂten to him, too.
RelatÂed ConÂtent:
Ray BradÂbury: StoÂry of a Writer 1963 Film CapÂtures the ParaÂdoxÂiÂcal Late Sci-Fi Author
Ray BradÂbury Gives 12 Pieces of WritÂing Advice to Young Authors (2001)
Ray BradÂbury: LitÂerÂaÂture is the SafeÂty Valve of CivÂiÂlizaÂtion
Josh Jones is a writer and musiÂcian based in Durham, NC. FolÂlow him at @jdmagness