Working Days (17 page)

 

 

Late start today. Carol is gone in to San Jose. Some people just came to the gate, photographed each other in front of it and then went on. This is the most sickening thing that has happened so far. It sort of turns my stomach. I wonder about work today. Going to finish O.K. if only Pare doesn’t insist. Wish I would hear from him. It will be November before I am done in any way. Might just think today. And work in the house. Today is the big meeting in Munich for the partition of the Czech republic. I don’t think it is the end yet. I thought I would work today but I guess I must [indecipherable].

Yesterday was an unhappy maundering bust. And today doesn’t look much better. It started early. Parsons* told in her column that Chaplin was coming for the weekend and already real estate people are trying to sell stuff. This meant guarding against [Ed.—intrusions]. I am all mixed up, but this time I simply won’t let myself. After all I have a book to write. Once it is written it will be all right. Then I can do things. And then I probably won’t want to. This is a hell of a day. I must get down to it now and prove to myself that I can still concentrate no matter how badly. Time to go now. Get to it and fight it through.

 

 

Time has come now for a resume. My book is going to pieces if I am not careful. I look at it this way. I have one more month of work. I must keep this up. One more month of good hard work will finish it. So I must put it in. Must. I intend to take today off—making a hell of a long lay-off for the purpose of getting in working trim again. And then the dash for the finish. And it will only be about as long as an ordinary short novel. But today I must get the tendency back again. Short resume of week end—Chaplin and Dan James were here. We had lots of talk and fun and very little reporter trouble. Talked a great deal. Must be sure not to go. Up for the party
^*
and fun and talk. I’m confused by the talk yet. That’s why no work today. Must shake off the confusion and then work tomorrow after a good long sleep and a dull evening. That’s the necessity. And to slip back. I need that. I must have that. Now I’m simply talking and talking. But I think I have the energy now, and I think I’ve lost the tiredness like being away for a while. Now I can get these people back again. And a dash and I will be done. Think! Think! Like Frank W. This is going to work. I feel very good about this book now. What I am worrying about is this draft. I am convinced that Carol shall not do the dull final draft. And at the same time there must be a great deal to do with the manuscript. My hand writing is bad now. One more month—one more. And then I have it. I am just gibbering. And that is all right. I don’t care. At three o’clock. What strangeness. What strangeness. Can’t let things go.

 

 

140-141

And now all of the foolishness and the self-indulgence is over. Now there can be no lost days and no lost time. Straight through to the finish now without loss. It must be that way. And I shall do it. Shall gather all my will together and go on. That is settled. The disintegration lately has been terrible. It can’t go on. I have done that amount before and I can again. In fact, at the beginning of each day now I shall again put down the pages to be done and then they will get done. My laziness is overwhelming. I must knock it over. Don’t feel right about it if I don’t, and I think after this good rest it will be all right. I have the energy now. All I need is the force to go ahead. There isn’t an awful lot more. But it must move slowly and truly on and on until the finish and this time there must be no hesitation. This work diary is complete thus far. Must make it final. And now the time has come. There have been delays and rests and squirms. And now such things are over. What do I care if criticism is adverse?
^*
The book must go on to a conclusion this time. I remember the drive of the other days. And this must be a drive to the end. And now I’ll read a little of the early diary and then plunge in. This time it is a GO signal and a real one. I’ve been looking back over this diary and, by God, the pressures were bad the whole damned time. There wasn’t a bit that wasn’t under pressure and now the pressure is removed and I’m still having trouble. It would be funny if my book was no good at all and if I had been kidding myself. Now forget the end and just go gradually to work. So long, diary.

(Finished).

 

 

142-143

Late start today. I slept until 9:30. I don’t know why. Defeated dreams too. I don’t know why those either. But I feel fine this morning and the dreams have no effect. I don’t care about the lateness of the start. I have plenty of time, plenty. And I’ve lost the rush feeling. Yesterday to the ranch—they have framed in the house and sheathed it. I always hate to come down again. It is so fine up there. Well before too long we’ll be there, I guess. Yes. We’ll be there. And in time this book will be done. All in good time. I’ll get it done. Just trust in that. Pare has not made any demands on me. No one has. The demands of people to use my name. Things like that are different. They can’t be helped. It is particularly fine today because the noise next door has stopped at least for the moment. No cement mixer, or pounding on pipe or things like that. Almost too good to be true. It would be funny if the absence of noise made it hard. It won’t. It is delicious this silence. Absolutely delicious. And my story is coming better. I see it better. See it better. Ma’s crossing with the clerk [Ed.—in the Hooper Ranch Company Store], and then Tom’s going out—meeting Casy—trying to move the men in the camp. Arrest and beating. Return in secret. Move. Cotton—flood. And the end—Tom comes back. Stolen things. Must go. Be Around. Birth. And the rising waters. And the starving man. And the end. What more? And now to it.

 

 

144-145

Early start this morning. Can’t ever tell. Worked long and slowly yesterday. Don’t know whether it was good, but it was a satisfactory way to work and I wish it would be that way every day. I’ve lost this rushed feeling finally and can get back to the easy method of day by day—which is as it should be. Got the iron gate [Ed.—in exchange] for an autograph. That is a bargain. Today I shall work slowly and try to get that good feeling again. It must be. Just a little bit every day. A little bit every day. And then it will be through. And the story is coming to me fast now. And it will be fast from now on. Movement fast but the detail slow as always. I seem to be delaying pretty badly today. Half an hour gone already and I don’t care because the little details are coming, are getting clearer all the time. So the more I wait, the more of this book will get written. How about the jail. Today, the preacher and Tom and the raid on the tent and the killing of the preacher [Ed.—Chapter 26]. Tom’s escape. Kills. Goes back to the camp to hide. Tom—half bitterness, half humane. Escapes in the night. Hunted, hunted. Over the last pages Tom hangs like a spirit around the camp. And in the water brings stolen food. Must get to work now. The thing speeds up.

146-147

Friday again and a short week. Has gone quickly. I think the work has been pretty good but I can’t tell. I’ve a funny feeling about it. And a change is coming over me—a goatish sexuality. The summer has been just the opposite—very low. Now it is rising rapidly. Maybe the weather, I don’t know. Maybe the burden of the work getting near an end has something to do with it. No mail of importance this morning. Not even requests for things. Today is quiet. I should be able to get my work done fairly easily. Furnace men coming this afternoon. I hope they come early. There is one fly in this room and I can’t find him. I hope next week the work comes as well as this week. I think it will. And 10,000 [Ed.—words] next week instead of 8,000. Got the fly. He is the last. Now—no hurry today. Plenty of time. Yesterday, I finished early and wasted a great deal of time. Today I can’t do that. Take all the time on the manuscript I want. It is Friday and I can finish gradually for the week. This leisurelyness must go on although the tempo gets faster the details must be as slow. Today the hiding of Tom and the scene with his mother [Ed.—the end of Chapter 26]. The cut in wages. Tom has to go. Getting together. The drop to starvation level of the wages. The trapped quality. Must get it in—Difficulty of getting clean. No soap. No money to buy soap. Then peaches. The rush of workers and the fight for the peaches. Fight to get them. Must get this all in. There’s so damned much in this book already. I must keep it coming. Furnace men came. Means we can get in to San Jose today. Must get to work.

148-149

Very quiet week end for a change. Mary and Bill
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Saturday night and to dinner. Had fun and a good bottle of wine. Home after going up to the ranch in the moonlight. The roof is on the new house. Begins to look like a house. And another agent from Hollywood wanting to buy
The Red Pony.
Carol took it and shot it. I don’t want that stuff. Nice day today and I’m in no hurry. I can take all the time I want. And that’s a good way to work. Carol is going up to the ranch. And this week I want a full week’s work. No short week this time or I won’t even finish on the first of November as I’d planned. I’ll do it. I’ll get the book done if I just set one day’s work in front of the last day’s work. That’s the way it comes out. And that’s the only way it does. Writing is a little bit bigger today. It usually is at the beginning of a week. Well the time has come. Must get to it. 150 pages tomorrow.

Finished 3:30.

 

 

150-151

I’m a little early today. A brilliant day, with an autumn snap to it. Good day for work. And the work is ready to do. Carol is going to S.F. tomorrow. I want to get down and see about the motor today. Try it on a refrigerator and see if it will start it. Time has come to get it up there. Well the work is moving along. And I don’t resent it. All the growth of the fascist tendency is heart breaking. Nothing seems to work against its stupidity and one gets very tired. I think I wish I wouldn’t have to think. Wish I could just let things go past but that time is gone. No one can escape it. Me least of all. I’ll probably be framed before very long. As usual I’m messing around a lot before going to work so that it is now darned near eleven o’clock and me not actually at work yet. There is the problem of the flood and whether I’ll include it. I think so. I think I will and I think I’ll include the box car camp and the digging all night and the break through. It is really time to go to work. But today is Tuesday and I might as well fill out.* Letter from my cousin Grace—first in 22 years. Wonder what she is like. I bet I know. The Y.W. must have left its mark. And the interest is solely because of the publicity. Seems to affect every one. She’ll be denying the relationship before long now. Every one will. To work.

Funny Hopper came by yesterday.

 

 

152

I got a fairly early start today and then George Mors came and talked a while so I am a little late. I may do only half today because then I’ll finish just this section this week. And it will even up the numbers. The end is peering in on me now. I can feel it. It’s coming closer. But a lot of things have to happen. Also I am pretty excited now about my story. Al is going to get married and go away. Al is tough. Tom is going to go. Hint of small pox, measles. Measles for R. of S. [Ed.—Rose of Sharon], weakening. Cause miscarriage or rather birth of dead baby. Breast pump. Then the rain. Tom comes back. And he goes again. Letter from Sis. * La Follette people
^*
are here. That may raise hell. I think the time has come and with one page. One end of a box car [Ed.—Chapter 28]

 

 

Entry
#92
Oct[ober] 13 [1938]—10:45 [Thursday]

153-154

Yesterday only half a day’s work, but with good reason. This blind weariness had me. I can’t tell anyone about it but I am almost sick to my stomach with tiredness. The air is very heavy today. Must be going to rain. It is stifling. But it is quiet. No pounding or anything like that any more. The mail this morning—just a mass of requests. Driving me crazy. Terribly nervous today. As Carl
^*
used to say—I’m nervous as a cat. Cats always seemed to me to be fairly placid animals. It becomes increasingly apparent that I must make a stand against joining things as I have against speaking. The mail is full of requests to use my name. Another request to be a clay pigeon. I won’t do any of these public things. Can’t. It isn’t my nature and I won’t be stampeded. And so the stand must be made and I must keep out of politics. Now these two things are constantly working at me. Criticism of me is very strong and will grow bitter but I must remember the one and the ninety-nine [Ed.—Luke 15:3-7]. And I must not stampede. I want to see.

 

 

Entry
#93
Oct[ober] 14 [1938]—10:45 [Friday]

155-156 Section

Comes Friday and this time Friday and a section come at the same time. Again no mail but requests. Pat will be in S.F. early next week. If tomorrow should be a rainy day, I think I will do a page to catch up in case I lose a day next week, which I probably will. I think probably one more section or two weeks will get this done. Had I worked every day I should be done now. Yesterday was a good scene. Must repair one part of it. I’m getting excited now that the end is coming up. Rather work than not. I’ll be sad when this is done. But I am glad to finish. Only two more weeks or maybe less. Depends. The last general must be a summing of the whole thing. Group survival. Yes, I am excited. Almost prayerful that this book is some good. Maybe it is and maybe not. Now let’s see what we have. The marriage of Al—the birth of the baby—the general on rain and survival—the trenching and then the flight to the high land—the finding of the barn. Attempt to sell the car, it is flooded and lost. Not so much, you see, and concentrated tempo. And ending where I thought. Well—there is no reason not to go back to it now. I hope my hand doesn’t shake too much any more. I guess I might as well get to it. After today an outside of 20 pages. Probably less.