Working Days (14 page)

 

 

Now I have lost a great deal of time. I have been remiss and lazy, my concentration I have permitted to go under the line of effort. If this had been the first time I should be very sad. But I am always this way. I can concentrate and under some circumstances I can work. My job is to get down to it and now. For all the pressures, there is only one person to blame and I must force him into it. The point is that I am over half through with this book. What remains is in length an average novel. I can do it and must. Nothing must interfere from this time on. We had rest and change and relaxation and now there is no excuse. Every day now—every day. It is just like starting all over, the reluctance and everything. Today is Monday. This is the start into the final [Ed.—stretch]. I’ve been interested in other things. Can’t be anymore. Nothing but the Joads. Must get to it. That is getting to be the forerunning statement in a failure. Expectation. I don’t know what I expect or what is expected of me. Nor care. This family must live. I have the laziness and the reluctance that is always present in the beginning. The ranch is bought and there’s nothing to do about that. Business is set. Nothing in the world to interfere. And there is this frightful fear that I won’t be able to do it, that it is too much for me. And there are dates that mustn’t be kept, and arrangements that must not be made. And the time has come. I must get down to the work although my stomach is water about it.

I made it!

 

 

I’m nearly nuts again. Too many things are happening. Steve arriving tomorrow. Abramson* wants to send 75 books. Must stop this right now. And I’m having a hell of a time concentrating with so many things going on. Mabel Ferry and Frank Fenton want to come down. And I would like to see them very much. If they come down in the evening. Just everything. Carol is typing manuscript and I’m losing my thread. Got to keep it. I hope this book is some good, but I have less and less hope of it. It has been shot to pieces too much. I hoped that Carol’s working on draft would help but I don’t know that it does. No time today for comment. I’ve got bugs under my skin. To work now.

 

 

Was ever a book written under greater difficulty? Now it’s the house. We listed it for sale and we’re swamped. People [who] want to buy it want to look at it. We’ll be living in a gold fish globe until it is sold I guess. No mail but bills. And the weather is beautiful. Yesterday John Collier
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and Jerry [indecipherable]. Went up to the ranch and fooled around and lost time. I can’t help it. I’ll get finished by Christmas, and that’s all I can hope for. Pare’s plan I am pretty sure has no place for me and I’m glad of it. Now it is time to go to work and to lose all of the nonsense about selling and buying and moving. Now is the time to go to work. And I wonder about it.

 

 

The time goes on and the manuscript crawls on. And after a long time it will be done. I am not sad. In fact, I am pretty glad now. Time is going. The noise of pounding* next door is simply terrific. There are days when they pound their heads off. Today they seem to be just hammering as loudly as they can. There is proof today how bad a merchant I would be. Our house is for sale and a quasi-customer is coming out. I am full of resentment—not that I don’t want to sell it, but that I don’t like the position of seller. The new ranch is so lovely. And we’re in no hurry to sell. But it is listed and I guess we’ll have to show it. Hope there isn’t a train of people looking. Now for today in the work. I’ll finish a chapter today and be ready for a general on Monday. I think this last chapter has been weak in detail. Must get it back. Got to get them out of Hooverville and into a federal camp for they must learn something of democratic procedure. But today it is just a matter of getting them out of camp [Ed.—end of Chapter 20]. Casy is in jail. Uncle John is drunk. Tom will go to the grocery and trail Uncle John. God, this pounding is terrible today. I have to ignore it as much as I can. They’re laying floors, Christ! What a place, and we came here looking for quiet. No mail today except requests. That’s about all my mail is any more. People who want things. What more can I expect? I’ve really asked for it in a way. There doesn’t seem to be any other way. Here they come to look at the house. I wish I didn’t feel so much resentment about being a seller instead of a buyer. Seem to be a lot of women. Let Carol take care of them. I’ll stick out here and do my own work. Finish out this page. I feel really very good today. The flow of story is coming back to me. The feel of the people. And the feel of speech and the flow of action. So it must go and if it takes until Christmas, then that is the way it must be. I can’t be rushed. I must have enough time. I do hope that Pare won’t need me, much as I’d like to work with him. I must do my own work and I have a feeling that he is this picture not me. Now to work.

 

 

Today is Saturday and half a day’s work will finish the chapter.
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So I’ll do it. The end of the Hooverville chapter. Carol is typing now and the book is beginning to seem real to me. Also Carol got the title last night
“The Grapes of Wrath.”
I think that is a wonderful title. Must query Elizabeth, but will use it any way until I am forbidden. The looks of it—marvelous title.* The book has being at last. I think really that a good month will finish it. Middle of October anyway, which is six weeks. No mail again but requests. Young man wants to talk, wants to be a writer. What could I tell him? Not a writer myself yet. But the story is having a reality finally. I said that before but I am stunned with the fact. I think I never really believe I will finish a book until it is finished. And Carol’s draft is going to be the final. Let them [Ed.—The Viking Press] pay for retyping if they want. We’ll put it in shape so it is readable with ease. I just hope it is good. Now to work. Finished the chapter, by God. Now a general and I don’t quite know which one it will be.

Beginning Chapter 9 general [Ed.—Chapter 21]. This one will be of the locals and their fight to preserve themselves. It should be a decent one. First, our house is sold.* Just one more thing. We hadn’t intended to sell it so soon but the first people who looked at it wanted it. Well—the last four books have been written in a mess. This one might as well be. There hasn’t been a moment of peace since I started. And it gets worse. The Stones are still on the ranch. Must see whether we can get them off. We have to have some place to lay our heads. And I need some place to work. How I wish my book were done. But I feel very good about it now. It is really moving and I can finish it if I am only given time. I say six weeks more. It may take more or less. But I want to take plenty and yet not too much. The title is still good. I like it very much. Today I have an early start and except for a little stomach ache from too much excitement, I feel fine. And now even the stomach ache is gone. And I am about ready to start Chapter 9. I hope it is good. Time to go and if I have a good day, I’ll be finished by noon. Go!

 

 

111-112
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Late start today. We have sixty days to go in this house, so I can finish my book here. Yesterday we put out the stakes for the new house* up at the ranch. It is going to be a beauty. Letter from Tom [Ed.—Collins] this morning. He has been on the road. Will be here this week end. I’ll be glad to see him. Carol crossed the first hundredth page this morning. That is a curious kind of milestone. No other until the end, or maybe the five hundredth. I’ve never gone to five hundred, but this time I will. About six hundred all told, or six fifty I think. Middle of October I’ll finish I think. No mail this morning. Thought there would be a lot. Lot tomorrow maybe. Europe still tense. Hitler waiting for heaven to speak. Maybe war, but I don’t think so. He waited too long. I think he is about through any way. Hope so. Germans are such nice people. This state about to blow up. This winter is going to be a mean one. Hope I can help a little bit. I’m late getting started today. But I don’t care. I’m so glad for these sixty days that I don’t care. Just plug along. And now comes the time. Not so fast as yesterday.

Finished.

 

 

[113-114]

So many things to drive me nuts. Fred Soule phoned yesterday to ask me to go on the radio concerning migrants. Trying to get out of it because it would be deadly to my life. I’ll try to dodge it. Would start a million fights. I feel very sick today. Dreamy sleep and coughing from too much smoking and confused by too many things happening and pretty worn out from too long work on manuscript. Have to cut down smoking or something. I’m afraid this book is going to pieces. If it does, I do too. I’ve wanted so badly for it to be good. If it isn’t, I’m afraid I’m through in more ways than one. Carol is working too hard now, too. And I’ve been with this book so long now that I don’t know much about it, I’m afraid. Well—have to take that chance. After all, if only I wouldn’t take this book so seriously. It is just a book after all, and a book is very dead in a very short time. And I’ll be dead in a very short time too. So the hell with it. Let’s slow down, not in pace or wordage but in nerves. I wish I could do that. I wish I would write only one page a day but I can’t. Got to go on at this rate or suffer for it. It must go on. I can’t stop. But oh! if I only had lots of time. I need to settle down some. Burned my pen finger with a match the other day and the blister comes right where the pen fits. And it hurts like hell and my handwriting reaches new heights of badness because of it. Taylor [Ed.—next-door neighbor] just rakes his yard and putters. But he would probably do a better job of this than I am doing. More ship-shape. I wish I were he sometimes. Just rake the yard and mix a little cement. How did I ever get started on this writing business anyway? To work.

 

 

115-116

Now—just slow down. Have been working and thinking at top speed. Must go slow. Soule really wants me to do that radio work. If he insists I know I can’t refuse, but it is hard to accept right at this time. Letters from Putnam, who has something he wants; from Louis, who doesn’t like my title; from Eric, who has been travelling. Alice Cohee is coming tomorrow. All in all, it is a tough time with so many things, so many demands, that if I am not careful, I’ll crash. I feel the weariness creeping up on me again as it did that day when I was really in danger of collapse. But I can’t now. Must finish this book. Simply must. And I don’t know how near it is to finished. I just can’t tell. It ought to be long. Carol has 150 pages typed now and she is racing ahead. She’ll turn two hundred this week. This is really a God send, getting it all in type so quickly. But I wonder whether it will be any good. I’ve got to slow down. My nervousness will get into it if I don’t. The trouble is that I’m getting a
finish
feeling into it, and I shouldn’t. Can’t get that for a long time yet. Must go slow. I have plenty of time. It’s this god damn moving that makes it hard. When Carol finishes what I have finished it will be easier because then she will be able to take care of the outside business again. Now we just have to let things go and it is that letting go that bothers me so much. Our house sold so quickly that it made our heads swim. One partial visit was all and now the money has gone in and we don’t own our house any more. God damn dog is barking now and it is time to get to work anyway. Well that is the end of another big section all finished [Ed.—Chapter 22]. Pare wired that he advised against my going on the air right now.

 

 

117-118

Admission day.* Lucky this state had some pressure from without put on it. Our royalists really think they own the world. Wire from Pare with advice not to go on the air. Much relief to me. Long letter from Martha Ford. Apparently everyone wants a cut of M & M on the road and there is nothing left. I don’t know and I don’t care whether it goes on the road or not. Alice arrives today. We are looking forward to her. Letter from Ritch and Tal.
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I wish they would come up. We’re so darned busy that any time would do. Wouldn’t matter. We’ll just be a little crazier than we are and we haven’t far to go. The amazing thing is that the work goes on. And one day it will be through. It is hot today. Working without clothes. All out of sheets. I may do a washing when I get through. I’m getting a fairly early start and the work is fairly well worked out. I should get done fairly early. And I could do all of the sheets easily. Will try to do it. But I won’t think of it until I

get through. The noise at the next house is abating. I always put down the time that I start on this work diary. Should be the time actually on the manuscript. But it doesn’t matter. Today, I’m going to deal to a large extent with Ma [Ed.—Chapter 22]. She hasn’t had an exclusive [Ed.—section] for a long time if ever. And I want to build her up as much as possible. Her possibility as a member of an organized society. I want to show how valuable Ma
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is to society—what a waste there is. And now is the time to get to work. Glad to be in the book once again. I hope I don’t rip out the sections [Ed.—of the ledger book] until I am through after this. There’s a kind of safety in keeping in the book that I like. Tomorrow I must find Noah and send him down the Colorado River. And now to work.