How Ray Bradbury’s ‘Zen in the Art of Writing’ Frees Me from My Slump
A surefire way to kickstart my imagination and my enthusiasm
Last week I ‘enjoyed’ a major slump.
In writing. In motivation, anlete two church projects with the same deadline.
One–writing or editing and compiling documents for our annual membership meeting. As in agenda, committee, and financial reports. Plus writing the announcements they’re attached to.
At the same time as I wrote, collected, and curated content for our monthly newsletter. Poetry, reflections, book recommendations, and quotes related to our monthly theme.
None of these pieces take a lot of time. But when they’re all due at once, the pressure compounds itself exponentially. At least in my brain.
All this writing and editing zapped energy from my daily Medium writing and novel editing.
So my ‘bedtime story’ book needed to soothe my frazzled nerves and inspire me at the same time. Reenergizing if possible. Can one book do all that?
Yes!
That would be Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury.
Well-known and beloved for books like Fahrenheit 451, Dandelion Wine, the Moby Dick screenplay, and some 250 short stories, this compilation of essays on creativity has become a go-to classic for us writers.
Don’t worry that it’s thirty years old. Just grab it!
Start by enjoying the sweet picture of Ray and his black cat on the frontispiece. His encouraging smile is worth the price of admission!
A perfect antidote for my burnout–or yours, let this book revive our weary writer’s souls.
Starting with the Preface
Notice it’s chock full of one-word sentences. Active verbs. Jump. Yell. Play.
Don’t overcomplicate things. Ray will admonish you not to think, though you might be tempted to think overthink when he does. That’s too much thinking. KISS, keep it simple, sweeties!
Here’s what he wants you to remember: It is a gift and a privilege [to write], not a right. Secondly, writing is survival. Like any art or good work. And Not to write, for many of us, is to die.
But here’s the clincher:
You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.
It doesn’t take much: An hour’s writing is tonic. I”m on my feet, running in circles, and yelling for a clean pair of spats. Don’t you love it?
I’ve gotten to the point where, when my other tasks are done and I open a blank doc to do my writing, tension drains, and energy returns. I get engrossed in what I want to say and how I want to say it.
Will I use first person or second? Single or plural? Instead of the gentle we, why not try the more in-your-face you? Watch me.
Music helps. My Frederick Chopin Pandora station programs my Pavlovian brain to switch to writer-mode at the opening strains. That helps a lot.
What’s your metaphor?
Here’s Rays: Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me.
After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the pieces together.
Now it’s your turn. Jump!
See what I mean?
Princess Di would turn over in her grave, but this is a metaphor, baby! Hemingway cut open a vein and bled on the page. According to Ray, Tom Wolfe ate the world and vomited lava.
Somehow, you gotta get what’s inside out.
I have a scar running from under my bra to the top of my pubic bone. I’ll pretend it’s a zipper. So I can leap out of bed, unzip myself, and spill my guts out onto the page.
What’s your metaphor?
Excited yet? You bet! And that’s just the preface.
Are you a fiction writer? Or wanna be?
Ray says, ask yourself questions:
What do you want more than anything else in the world? What do you love, or what do you hate? It can be big loves or minor irritations.
Just feel strongly.
Next: Find a character, like yourself, who will want something or not want something, with all his heart. Give him running orders. Shoot him off. Then follow as fast as you can go.
In my novel, Man Pregnant!, I’ve created a character who is like me in many ways, even though he’s a man and a pro-life minister to boot. Neither of which I am. I zapped him with a cosmic event that made him pregnant. He wants what his values say he can’t have. An abortion.
He has one trimester to poop or get off the pot. Time bomb ticking, he and I run to figure out how to have his cake and eat it, too–-without being caught. High stakes. Devilish fun.
See. Short sentences rock!
Look for the little loves, find and shape the little bitternesses. Savor them in your mouth, try them on your typewriter.
Feed Your Muse
Constantly turning out prose without restocking the pond drains me. That’s like forgetting to gas the car. You can only run on fumes for so long. Then the engine sputters and dies. Same with your muse.
What to feed her (or him)?
Poetry, says Ray.
Read poetry every day of your life. Think of it as gassing the car.
Not just for poets. All writers. Here’s why:
Poetry is good because it flexes muscles you don’t use often enough. Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition. It keeps you aware of your nose, your eye, your ear, your tongue, your hand. And above all, poetry is compacted metaphor or simile.
He shares three poems that gave him a spin and ran him off to do a story. And he tells which ones.
So what poems, Ray? Any poetry that makes your hair stand up along your arms. Even if you don’t understand the poem, your ganglion does, and your secret wits, and your unborn children. Don’t you love it?
Typing this quote out, the word ganglion made me pause.
I thought of gang lions. Not your average Kings of the Jungle lions. But Kings of the Asphalt Jungle lions. Or maybe Hell’s Angels bad boy lions. Leather. Tattoos. Bikes. Their own secret code of honor. And some innocent gazelles to rough up before the pigs catch up with them.
Where are you taking me, Ray? Mercy.
What else?
Besides poetry and essays, read stories and novels.
Read those authors who write the way you hope to write, those who think the way you would like to think [or not think]. But also read those who do not think as you think or write as you want to write, and so be stimulated in directions you might not take for many years.
And of course, feed your muse by living life as fully and deeply as you can. Take notes as you go. As in, writing.
In conclusion:
When honest love speaks, when true admiration begins, when excitement rises, when hate curls like smoke, you need never doubt that creativity will stay with you for a lifetime.
Isn’t that worth leaping out of bed, running around in circles, and calling for a clean pair of spats?
I can hear you holler, you betcha!
Marilyn Flower writes humor to laugh the changes she wants to see and make. She’s the author of Creative Blogging: Ninja Writers Guide to Character Development and Bucket Listers, Get Your Brave On. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!
Great writing and vivid images! If that's you in a slump, watch out words!!