Remembering Ray Bradbury
August 22, 1920 – June 5, 2012
I grew up listening to Ray Bradbury's radio dramas on National Public Radio, so always had a soft spot in my heart for him and appreciated his presence at the conference, but for much of my life, I had little knowledge of his great depth and versatility as a writer, as well as his lovely, generous personality. For example, I had no clue he wrote the screenplay for John Huston's film adaptation of Moby Dick, a movie I have a special affection for. (Ray wrote sci fi and fantasy! He didn't write about the sea!) In fact, I had watched it countless times while working on a research ship out of Massachusetts.
Ray Bradbury and John Huston
And that was the essence of Ray. Even though he is easily considered a literary heavyweight and legend, there was nothing about him that was pretentious or ponderous. Ray lived in LA for most of his life and was at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference every year, so I knew a lot of people who were acquainted with him or knew him personally. The mere mention of his name caused them to light up and change energy as if a switch were flipped. And this reaction had little to do with his fame as a writer. It was his gracious, generous spirit and passionate personality that endeared him to people, as well as his unique character. Ray embodied a childlike innocence and yet at the same time, he was very much his own man. He always had an admirable autonomy as a writer - he primarily wrote for himself in the sense that he didn't write to please people, maintain his fanbase, or to make money in the entertainment industry (and yet he managed to do all of the above.) I think part of his secret was that he was humble, practical, and savvy. He lived very modestly so he didn't have to resort to taking on projects he didn't like or believe in (prostitution) in order to maintain a lifestyle. Consequently, he didn't have the cynicism or bitterness that many people stereotypically associate with writers who live and work in LA. Ray was actually bursting with joy. And his joy was intensely contagious. Much of my experience of Ray was hearing him talk. The central theme of every talk I heard him give, and from what I hear, every talk he gave, was Love. He didn't talk about the discipline of being a writer, achieving success as a writer, acquiring a following of fans, or obtaining an impressive list of credentials and accolades. He always stuck to the simple theme of Love. Ray was adamant that without Love, writing is meaningless and worth nothing. Love is the foundation of everything and the only real reason to do anything. He was positively glowing and vibrating with love and joy. How blessed we were to have him open the conference! I will always remember Ray as a man who was full of love and joy and who also happened to be a great writer.