Our moments of truth lead to pure poetry

I read something beautiful today in Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing.

[…] when a man talks from his heart, in his moment of truth, he speaks poetry.

-Ray Bradbury

Give any man a chance to talk about his dreams, about his passion. Watch him sputter for the first few minutes like a wet fuse because it’s “limping crude hard work for many, with language in their way,” to tell a story. But don’t give up yet. Listen to him for a little while. Wait for his old passion to take over and be prepared for the fireworks to begin. Be prepared for the magical cadence … for the moments of truths. Be prepared for pure, touching poetry.

This is how Mr. Bradbury puts it:

I have heard farmers tell about their very first wheat crop in their first farm after moving from another state, and if it wasn’t Robert Frost talking, it was his cousin, five time removed. I have heard locomotive engineers talk about America in the tones of Tom Wolfe who rode our country with his style as their ride it in their steel. I have heard mothers tell of the long night with their firstborn when they were afraid that they and the baby might die. And I have heard my grandmother speak of her first ball when she was seventeen. And they were all, when their souls grew warm, poets. (my emphasis)

– Ray Bradbury

This is a variation of the well known advice: if you want to write great stories, start with your own pain and pleasure. It’s not something I came up with, but it’s something I experienced. And it’s bloody good advice.

Here’s to warm souls and great poetry!