Grumbles from the Grave (17 page)

I know that the ending of
Poddy
comes as rather a shock. However, that is the ending that seemed to fit—to me. The story follows a definite progression: a girl child with no worries at all and a preposterous ambition . . . then, step by step, she grows up and discovers that the real world is more complex and not nearly as sweet as she had thought . . . and that the only basic standard for an adult is the welfare of the young.

Oh, I could revise that last chapter to a "happy" ending in about two hours—let Poddy live through it, injured but promised a full recovery and with the implication that she will eventually marry this rich and handsome bloke who can take her with him to the stars . . . and still give her brat kid brother a comeuppance and his lumps (and it is possible that I will at least consider doing this if no editor will risk publishing it as it is). But I don't want to do this; I think it would ruin the story—something like revising Romeo
and Juliet
to let the young lovers "live happily ever after."

But it took the deaths of Romeo and Juliet to show the families Montague and Capulet what damned fools they were being. Poddy's death (it seems to me) is similarly indispensable to this story. The true tragedy in this story lies in the character of the mother, the highly successful career woman who wouldn't take time to raise her own kids—and thereby let her son grow up an infantile monster, no real part of the human race and indifferent to the wellbeing of others . . . until the death of his sister, under circumstances which lay on him a guilt he can never shake off, gives some prospect that he is now going to grow up.

I could state that the theme of the story is that death is the only destination for all of us and that the only long-range hope for any adult lies in the young—and that this double realization constitutes growing up, ceasing to be a child and putting away childish things. But I can't say it that baldly, not in fiction, and it seemed to me that I needed Poddy's death to say it at all. If Poddy gets to have her cake and eat it too (both marriage and star-roving), if that little monster, her brother, gets off unscathed to continue his clever but asocial career, if their mother gets away with neglecting her children's rearing without having it backfire on her—then the story is just a series of mildly adventurous incidents, strung together.

March 23, 1962: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

I understand and appreciate, I think, your remarks about Cezanne and his black outlines—but this is an endless problem for me with no easy solution. If I preach overtly, I get complaints from Ginny, you, the editor, and in time the readers . . . and I'm all too prone to preach. In this book,
Poddy,
I'm limited by what Poddy herself would say—which is perhaps just as well!!!

May 9, 1962: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

Please tell Peter Israel of Putnam's that I will tackle the revision he wants very shortly, say about the first of the week. I have one other job to finish first. I still have strong doubts about the artistic and dramatic necessity of a happy ending on this story—but I'll do my damndest.

May 20, 1962: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

Neither editor liked my title and I did not [like] either of their suggestions. I have suggested to Pohl [Frederik Pohl, editor of
If
]
Podkayne of Mars,
which suits him. If it does not suit Mr. Israel I hope that he will suggest one which all three of us can agree on, as I prefer to have magazine version and book carry the same title if possible.

The new kittens are two weeks old and fat and healthy. A hawk or an owl got Ginny's ducks.

May 25, 1962: Lurton Blassingame to Robert A. Heinlein

Beautiful job on the revision.

CHAPTER V
THE BEST LAID PLANS

PUBLIC SPEAKING

August 15, 1968: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

I have given both these bids considerable thought. As you know, I do not like speaking dates, but on the other hand, I realize that I must accept some of them, especially those from librarians. This time the matter is further complicated by the fact that both bids come via Scribner's (not my current publisher) and, while one group offers to pick up the tab, the other group asks Scribner's to do so—and Scribner's has agreed to do so.

I do not want Scribner's to pick up the tab. After long thought I have concluded that I do not want
any
publisher
ever
to pick up the tab when I make a trip to speak; I would much rather see a publisher spend money to advertise and distribute my books than to have promotion money spent on airfares and hotel bills for the author.

So I have finally arrived at this policy, which I now present to you for comment and (I hope) approval. From here on I will continue to avoid speaking dates when possible except speaking dates involving librarians. With respect to their bids, I will accept them if possible in such cases and
only
such cases as the group which wishes to have me appear wants me badly enough to pay my travel and hotel expenses plus a nominal fee of, let us say, fifty dollars.

WRITING PLANS

November 19, 1945: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

. . . My particular talent is for the prophetic novel, i.e., the novel laid in the future, perhaps only a few years in the future but nevertheless in the future. I have no objection to doing contemporary fiction and am open to advice, but there is this one thing which I do especially well. There is a book market for it and at least a limited slick market for it. I believe that the slick market for it will be much greater than before the war, primarily because of atomics. I think people will want to be told what to expect in the coming atomic age. I have notes for many, many stories; do you want to discuss stories with me ahead of time, or shall I just go ahead and write?

I also write fantasy and would like to emulate Stephen Vincent Benet. The SEP [
Saturday Evening Post
] has been publishing quite a lot of antasy since ---- took over; I would like to do the sort of thing they publish.

January 1, 1946: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

I am quite used to being considered too spectacular. My own brother, a colonel of engineers, thought my pre-war stories about the atomic bomb and atomic weapons to be sheer moonshine; he has since flown over Hiroshima and changed his mind.

April 20, 1947: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

I am starting a short, Luna City series, slanted for
Post
, tomorrow. Like the hired man said, "We've had a lot of trouble around here," but you may expect regular copy for some time hence.

June 24, 1947: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

To confirm my telegram of Tuesday, my new address is:

Suite 210,
7904 Santa Monica Blvd.,
Hollywood 46, Cal.

Letters or telegrams sent there will reach me promptly. My telephone has been disconnected. We have closed our house and in a few days—as soon as I can get some chores cleaned up—I am going to light out for the desert and get back to work. Leslyn [Heinlein's first wife] is going to stay in town. . . .

Editor's Note: While Robert was working at the Naval Air Experimental Station in Philadelphia, I was reassigned to duty there by the Navy. At that time, I was a lieutenant (jg.) in the WAVES. We worked together on some projects, chiefly on attachment of plexiglas canopies. Both of us had other, separate projects.

When World War II ended, Robert resigned his position as an engineer to return home to Los Angeles with his wife. As I had not accrued many points in the system that governed release from the service, I was required to remain on duty until March 1946. I had already decided to return to college for an advanced degree, and made arrangements for that. Robert suggested that I go to UCLA rather than Berkeley, as I had planned.

While the GI Bill paid for tuition and books, the stipend allowed was rather scanty, so I needed to work part-time, attending classes and studying in what free time I had. So my social life lapsed almost entirely. What I did retain was devoted to the symphony and figure skating. I saw very little of Robert and his wife, Leslyn, although we lived not too far apart.

When finals were finished in 1947, I had a call from Robert—he asked my help in clearing his papers from his house. He was getting a divorce.

I took the summer off from my studies to work—my finances were in poor shape. Robert spent that summer in Ojai, writing.

We were married in October 1948.

(92)

Robert and Virginia about the time of their engagement.

1948: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

I'm back to work. The honeymoon is over, except for weekends. I hope, Lurton, to turn over to you more and better copy than you have seen yet. During my entire association with you, everything I have written has been turned out under difficult circumstances, most of them under most excruciatingly difficult circumstances. I have had to force myself to work, with the major portion of my mind and attention centered on the things that were happening around me and to me. I am not seeking sympathy, but I do want you to know that there is at least a fair chance that I will give you better material and more of it from now on.

November 6, 1948: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

It isn't necessary to get Ginny to chain me to my typewriter four hours a day. I am frantically anxious to spend more hours than that at work every day. If I am spared more domestic upheavals for the next several months I should turn out a lot of copy. Right now I am racking my brain trying to cook up another subject for a boys' novel for Scribner's. I am not going to be able to go to Florida this winter to complete the diving and research I must do before I write
Ocean Rancher.
Therefore I have got to find another story for ----. It would be easy enough to cook up another space opera, but I shall do my darnedest to find something else to write about before falling back on that.

November 18, 1948: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

Your remark that you were sure that I would do an (adult) novel within the next twelve months has caused me considerable thought. Do you really think so? I have long wanted to do bookbound adult novels, preferably of the H. G. Wells sort, but have never tackled anything but pulp serials and these boys' books for Scribner's. Do you think I should take time off . . . and make a real try at cracking the adult book market? If so, should I drop the speculative stuff and try a contemporary novel—or should I stick to my specialty?

January 28, 1949: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

. . . In the meantime, I am collecting notes on (Forgive me!) the Great American Novel. Yup, Lurton, I have fallen ill of the desire to turn out a "literary" job. Specifically, I would like to do a job somewhat like Ayn Rand did in
The Fountainhead,
but with modern art, especially pictorial art, as my target. It may be a year or two before I feel ready to tackle it, but I am working on it.

The first draft of the boys' novel [
Red Planet
] for Scribner's was finished at 11 p.m. last Monday. I have taken three days off to attend to chores and correspondence and intend to start revising tomorrow. The finished manuscript should be in your hands within a fortnight.

October 1, 1949: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

I have two short stories that I am very hot to do, one a bobby-sox for
Calling All Girls
and one a sci-fi short which will probably sell to slick and is a sure sale for pulp. The first is "Mother and the Balanced Diet," using the same characters as [in] "Poor Daddy," as the editors requested. The other is "The Year of the Jackpot" based on cycles theory—1952, the year that
everything
happens at once. But gosh knows when I will find time to do them. I probably will, as I
want
to do them. But I'm working myself nutty. (Oh, yes—I've got to prepare some stuff for ---- too; possible [motion picture] uses for my published stuff.)

About the
Boys' Life
job, see above. You'll get both versions in about a month. We have to move this week; I'll send you a new address.

HOLLYWOOD WRITING