Ray Bradbury in the Afterword (1982) to Fahrenheit 451 said that he wrote what has become his iconic novel in the basement of the University of California at Los Angeles. He says that he wrote it in the spring of 1950, and that it cost him nine dollars and eighty cents in dimes to write and finish the first draft. Originally called The Fire Man, it later became Farenheit 451. Each dime bought him 30 minutes of typing time, which really put the pressure on to write quickly without self-censure. He calculated that it took him roughly nine days to complete the first draft.
Is a writer
necessarily the best judge of his or her own work?
Aldous Huxley in his 1945 Foreword to yet another icon, Brave New World, described its defects, as a work of art, as "considerable". The original was written in 1932 when he would have been around 38 years of age. As an older and more experienced writer he felt that in order to "correct" the faults in the earlier work, he would probably have to rewrite the entire book, and in doing so would lose not only some of what he saw as the original faults, but the merits of the work too. He wrote that rather than wallow in remorse he would prefer to leave the work alone and think about something else. It prompted me to reflect on the artistic distinction that he is making, given that this particular work is his best known, most influential, and shows remarkable foresight with regard to the proliferation of the consumer culture with regard to goods and services, and the human body itself.
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