Ray Bradbury Bullies Me From the Grave

Ray Bradbury is, as Neil Gaiman says, a writer who emerged as a “genre of one.”  A giant of a writer and a creative force whose influenced spanned more than over 65 years of literature, TV, film and even music, Ray Bradbury always had this to say about the life of writer:

“You must write every single day of your life... You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads... may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”

Now my favorite part of the above quote is the wearing of books like hats upon your crazy heads, because, let’s face it, we’ve all done it at one point or another – no? Just me? Okay, then.

But the most stressful, and resonant, part of his advice for me is to write every day.  Apparently, from his teens until his death in 2012, Ray Bradbury wrote every single day of his life – sometimes churning out one short story a day.  Even when the words don’t come, when the muse keeps hidden and silent in the walls, Ray Bradbury showed up day after day, sits down and writes and writes and writes. 

This stresses me yet heartens me.  It makes me feel, that though there are days of intense insight and story, of inspiration and transfiguration from idea to words, there are days where a writer, even an insanely gifted one like Ray, my man, needs to hunker down and force himself to write. 

It makes me think, too, about how times have changed since the 1940s when Ray Bradbury’s first work to be published was recognized by a then magazine editor Truman Capote.  Times were tough then -- you had to mail things and type things out and put correction fluid if you screwed up or retype the whole thing altogether.  How so much thought went into it, how much effort and conscientiousness – and on top of that, he was STILL able to write every day.  I got no excuse, man.

And so, I will try my very very darnest to write every single day.  And no, chats and social media statuses really do not count.  

Wouldn’t it be great to churn out a short story every day?  Wouldn’t that be a feat – I mean, more than wearing a book hat.

(Photo credit Pinterest)

I Reclaim My Muchness

Growing up, kids are fairly similar.  We run around, making lots of noise, get caught up in excitement, dance like no one is watching, sing as loudly as we can, dare to jump as high as we can go, eat whatever we want – even dirt.   And then, invariably, as years pass, we get this, this muchness, stamped out of us.  Sometimes it’s scolded out of us, sometimes it’s schooled out of us.  No, giraffes aren’t blue and orange.  No, you can can’t make up your own haiku.  No, girls can’t do martial arts.  And no, making up stories is not a valid way to pass an afternoon by.  And after some time we believe them.

We stop raising our hands, we stop jumping from the third step, we stop drawing, stop writing stories, and stop disagreeing (yes, goddammit, giraffes CAN be blue and orange!!!).  And then we hate our lives, hate our life choices, get bored. 

New years is a great time for me, I super love the entire world’s optimism of the world ahead, a clean slate.  My favorite part is the looking back and regretting the time I wasted, no really, I enjoy it.  It’s not so much FOMO but more of regret for doing things I wanted to do  (an all day nap, goddammit or cartwheeling out the door) because it’s not what grownups do.   

The thing is, more and more I am realizing, and the more I observe other adults I admire, is that this impulse to express one’s muchness is what makes them so successful, outstanding, and just overall happier with their lives.  If they wanna wear red Chucks to work, they’ll do it.  If they feel they need to go to the gym in the middle of the day for energy, they’ll do it.  If they wanna hike in Nepal over a long weekend, they’ll do it.  They toss “adult expectations” to the wind and end up doing what their inner child tells them to do anyways.

So this is the long roundabout way to my “resolution” – for lack of a better term – not just for this year but for hopefully the rest of my life.  To reclaim my muchness.  I’m not quitting my job or dropping my responsibilities to run away with a circus (yes, a long-held childhood dream), but I will stop saying no to the cheery voice inside my head that says, “Hey, WE can do that!”  or “Of COURSE we can have a circus in the training rooms!” and “SURE you can do a headstand everyday!” instead of the dark and judgy voice that says, “Grow UP” or “No one respects an executive who wears white nail polish” or “You CAN’T hire an award-winning independent director to produce a corporate video.”

Moving to a new country, I've tried to keep my head down and not rock the boat for the past two years and I find it makes for a very unsatisfactory work life that gives me neither a strong ownership or fiery passion for the work I churn out everyday.  And that’s my fault.  I’d been wrapped up in some sort of mayonnaise of mediocrity  and fear of failure that I’d been walking in the middle of the well-worn path.  Not anymore.  J  I’m gonna raise my hand and speak my mind.  I’m not just gonna accept the status quo.  I’m not gonna blindly follow directions.

I’m gonna color that giraffe blue and orange.