Steinbeck (7 page)

Have you completely given up your plan of coming west? You have not mentioned it for a long time.

Please don't let such a long time elapse before your next letter. It is more disheartening by far than the rejections. If I weren't so damned pig-headed I'd quit this bosh and go to work with a shovel.

affectionately.
[unsigned]

[Pacific Grove]
[1931]

Dear Ted:

I remembered some things I wanted to ask you. First—does McBride still hold the copyright on the Cup and what arrangement did they make for the disposal of the extra copies and what is the chance of acquiring that copyright without buying it?

Second—by now you must know or have some strong conviction about the Unknown God. Do you honestly think it has the least chance in the world? Do you think it worth while to resubmit to John Day as they suggested or was that bull on their part? Wouldn't it be a load off your shoulders if you put the whole caboodle with an agent? I wouldn't mind. It must be rather disheartening to you to collect my rejection slips. Carl Wilhelmson recommends Mavis McIntosh of McIntosh & Otis at 18 East 41st Street, if you want to unload the stuff. His name should be used.

Third—on what grounds was the murder story rejected? Was it the sloppiness of it or just that it wasn't a good enough story? Do you think there is the least chance of selling it? Are you discouraged about the whole business? Have these rejections carried any editorial interest at all?

I know it is hard to write when you don't know what I want to know. Rejection follows rejection. Haven't there ever been encouraging letters? Perhaps an agent with a thorough knowledge of markets would see that the mss. were not marketable at all and would return them on that ground. You see the haunting thought comes that perhaps I have been kidding myself all these years, myself and other people—that I have nothing to say or no art in saying nothing. It is two years since I have received the slightest encouragement and that was short lived.

I shall finish at least one novel this year. It will probably be better than the others. I am leaving the long fine book for a while to do a shorter one. The big book should take a number of years. It is a fairly original plan (the new book) and quite a vital story or really series of stories
[The Pastures of Heaven].

I guess that's all. Will you please write and answer the questions though? You must understand how anxious I am.

Affectionately,
John

Pacific Grove
May 1931

Dear George:

Last night we went berserk and bought a quarter of a pound of wonderful jasmine tea. It is the grandest stuff I have ever tasted, and I have fully made up my mind to give up liquor in all forms in its favor. The strawberries are beginning to ripen and great excitement reigns in this household.

This week I had a letter from Mavis McIntosh, and, if I had not known her method of doing business, I should be very suspicious of her boundless enthusiasm for my mss. However I am fond of anyone who can raise my spirits as she has raised mine. And the personal interest evinced makes me think that she will actually try to find a publisher for me. Also I will not be cut off from communication any more for she will let me know whether anything has happened. Have you sent mss. to her, too? I hope you have. Carl Wilhelmson recommended me and Carl is one of her especial pets. [Albee took his advice and sent samples of his work to Mclntosh and Otis. He too became a client.] I am rewriting one more short story to send out and then I shall go back to The Pastures of Heaven. Truly I was beginning to get quite dejected. You can talk about my having seen print, but you forget that I am five years older than you are and that nearly three years have gone by since I have had the least encouraging word. When she sees your work she will drop me like a hot coal. Anyway, it's very nice, isn't it?

Tillie is well and nearly handsome again. Sometime after she has had puppies for me to watch, I shall write some stories about Tillie.

Twice a year my father [Monterey County treasurer] has to take money to the State Treasury and he has to do it in person. It amounts to something over a million dollars this time. Of course it is only a certified check so we won't need an armoured car. A couple of weeks ago he drove over, and when I went out to see him, he had a deputy sheriff with a shotgun and a sub-machine gun with him and the back seat of the car was full of bonds. It was terribly exciting. It is the first time he has done that and I think he was scared. I would have been. He won't ever do it again. A hundred thousand dollars in unregistered bonds is quite a temptation to a young highwayman.

That's all. Let me know when you hear from Miss McIntosh.

Affectionately,
(Carol is wildly excited)
John

Pacific Grove
May 8, 1931

Dear Miss McIntosh:

Thank you for your letter. I am sorry I must answer it from memory; Tillie Eulenspiegel, the Airedale, has puppies, as sinful a crew as ever ruined rugs. Four of them found your letter and ate all of it but the address. I should imagine they were awed by the address if I had not learned that they hold nothing in reverence. At present they are out eating each other, and I must try to remember the things I should answer.

I have no readable carbon of Murder at Full Moon. If you think it advisable, I shall have one made. The quicker I can forget the damned thing, the happier I shall be.

To An Unknown God should have been a play. It was conceived as a play and thought of and talked of as such for several years. But I have no knowledge of the theater nor any knowledge of dramatic technique. Does one find a collaborator in such a case? I didn't know the novel dragged, and I thought I was fairly aware of its faults. It is out of proportion because it was thought of as two books. The story changes tempo and style because it changes speed and spirit. I tried to fit the style to the subject, that is all. I should like to write it again.

In a few days I'll send you some short stories. They are amusing, but I'm afraid unsaleable. I wrote them to amuse myself. Perhaps it would only waste your time to send them.

The present work
[The Pastures of Heaven]
interests me and perhaps falls in the “aspects” theme you mention. There is, about twelve miles from Monterey, a valley in the hills called Corral de Tierra. Because I am using its people I have named it Las Pasturas del Cielo. The valley was for years known as the happy valley because of the unique harmony which existed among its twenty families. About ten years ago a new family moved in on one of the ranches. They were ordinary people, ill-educated but honest and as kindly as any. In fact, in their whole history I cannot find that they have committed a really malicious act nor an act which was not dictated by honorable expediency or out-and-out altruism. But about the Morans there was a flavor of evil. Everyone they came in contact with was injured. Every place they went dissension sprang up. There have been two murders, a suicide, many quarrels and a great deal of unhappiness in the Pastures of Heaven, and all of these things can be traced directly to the influence of the Morans. So much is true.

I am using the following method. The manuscript is made up of stories, each one complete in itself, having its rise, climax and ending. Each story deals with a family or an individual. They are tied together only by the common locality and by the contact with the Morans. Some of the stories are very short and some as long as fifteen thousand words. I thought of combining them with that thirty-thousand word ms. called Dissonant Symphony to make one volume. I wonder whether you think this is a good plan. I think the plan at least falls very definitely in the aspects of American life category. I have finished several and am working on others steadily. They should be done by this fall.

That is all I can think of. If there was more to be answered it is in the stomachs of those khaki-colored devils in the garden. They are eating the fence now. The appetite of a puppy ranks with Grand Canyon for pure stupendousness.

I am very grateful to you for your interest and to Carl Wilhelmson for his recommendation. He, by the way, is so abjectly melancholy that I imagine he is either in love or very happy about something.

Sincerely,
John Steinbeck

Pacific Grove
1931

Dear Ted:

I don't like to be so completely cut off from you as I have been during the last few months. If you are commuting from the country I know why you haven't written, but I should have written oftener.

Life goes on here. I continue writing even more than usual. At my death, my estate will consist of many bales of paper, most of it written only on one side. It should be worth a pretty sum.

My adventures with Mclntosh and Otis have been amusing. Said house pursues a policy of flattery. At the request of Miss Otis I have dispatched a number of the short stories. They have been hailed, appreciated and sent back post paid. Have not heard from Miss McIntosh for some time, but I guess my novels are saddening her. Apparently she can't even sell my detective story. I don't quite understand their policy, but obviously they try to sell the things. Whatever became of the ms. unfortunately named Dissonant Symphony? I am getting along pretty well with the companion piece—really some very good stories in it, and interesting to do.

Tillie has had distemper but we are pulling her out of it nicely. The medicines and shots in the neck ruined us though. Having lost Bruga partly through carelessness, we weren't going to take any chances with Tillie.

I am daily expecting to receive both of my novels back. That will be a blow but I don't see how I can escape it. My work is improving, I think—and eventually I shall be able to dispose of all of it, but this is rather a long period of waiting, don't you think? Joe Hamilton [his uncle] writes that some of his friends who were making ten thousand a year can't sell a fifty-dollar story. What chance have I then? Luckily such considerations do not often assail me.

We have had hot weather here if you can imagine it. But today the fog has come in and we are back to normal. My garden is so lovely that I shall hate ever to leave it. I have turtles in the pond now and water grasses. You would love the yard. We have a vine house in back with ferns and tuberous begonias. We have a large cineraria bed in bloom and the whole yard is alive with nasturtiums.

I feel very sad. It is the feeling of impending doom when one is comfortable and in health. I guess it is an apprehension of the jealous gods. One can't be as happy as I have been for very long. There's a law against it. I have worked hard and enjoyed my work and it is the punishment of man to hate his work. Sooner or later I will have work that I hate.

That's all. Drop me a line from the train if you haven't any other time. I'm jealous of your isolation.

Affectionately,
John

Pacific Grove
August 18, 1931

Dear Miss McIntosh:

I think I told you in an earlier letter that the imperfections of the Unknown God had bothered me ever since I first submitted the book for publication. In consequence of this uneasiness, your announcement of the book's failure to find a publisher is neither unwelcome nor unpleasant to me. If I were sure of the book, I should put it aside and wait for some other story to gain it an entrance. But I know its faults. I know, though, that the story is good. I shall rewrite it immediately. Whether my idea of excellence coincides with editors' ideas remains to be seen. Certainly I shall make no effort to “popularize” the story.

I have a carbon of the Unknown God. It will not be necessary to return the original.

Mr. Miller will hand you a manuscript of about thirty thousand words
[Dissonant Symphony
]. It is an impossible length for marketing. I had thought perhaps it could be included under one cover with the ten stories which will make up The Pastures of Heaven. The name is bad, but that can be readily changed. Will you let me know your opinion of this plan?

The Pastures stories proceed rapidly, perhaps too rapidly. They should be ready to submit by Christmas.

Thank you for your help. I am an unprofitable client.

Sincerely,
John Steinbeck

[Pacific Grove]
[1931]

Dear George:

The Sheffields left last Friday or Saturday I guess it was. We had an awfully good time and I enjoyed having them. Now I wonder when you will be coming up. Have been expecting to hear every day.

As to the shoes—people in our circumstances can't be giving each other presents. It would be ridiculous. Too much food could be bought with the money and we must hold out in the matter of food. If we don't go low on it we may manage to do the thing we want to. It's a kind of endurance contest at best. So forget the shoes, but thank you for the thought.

I learn that all of my manuscripts have been rejected three or four times since I last heard. It is a nice thing to know that so many people are reading my books. That is one way of getting an audience.

Hurry and come up or at least let me know when you are coming. We are anxious to see you. I pulled all Tillie's whiskers out to strengthen their growth. She looks like hell now. We are ashamed to be seen with her.

Write soon.

John

Pacific Grove
[1931]

Dear George: