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Fantascience Digest, v. 3, issue 1, whole no. 12, January-February 1940

Page 18

Page 18                   FANTASCIENCE DIGEST

AN Author OPENS HIS Mail 

FREDERIC ARNOLD KUMMER JR

   The most important moment of the day for an author is the time of the arrival of the morning mail. This usually shapes his mood for the day. The mail in my own neighborhood arrives late...about nine-thirty...and I find it impossible to do any work before it comes. Once I've looked over it, answered letters, learned the fate of several stories, I can start the day's work, grimly, or happily, according to the mail I have received. 

   The morning's sheaf of letters is usually divided into three classes. First, bills, and personal correspondence. These are no interest except to me, and, perhaps, my creditors. Secondly, there is correspondence pertaining to work...checks, rejected scripts, letters from editors. And thirdly, there are the letters from fans.

   The business letters are, of course, the most important. And checks are, naturally, the most welcome. But when you see the postman bearing a large brown envelope, script size, there comes a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach and the family decide not to cross your path this day. Jaw set, you open the envelope and read the editor's letter. "Not enough action. Stop trying to write masterpieces." or "We just bought a yarn using this idea. Sorry." The author's frown deepens, and he mentally composes an indignant letter to the editor in defense of his yarn. Discretion, however, prevails and these letters are never written. If you are the forunate recipient of a check, however, you plunge into work with a broad grin, thinking, "There's nothing to it. Now if I can just get this one done and sold this month, I can buy......"

   Letters from editors requesting stories, making suggestions, asking for this or that, are in the main, encouraging. These are answered promptly, and worded carefully to create just the right impression. If it's a request for a story, you don't want to sound too anxious (even though the sheriff is camping on the front step) nor yet too casual. In the end your answer probably sounds like Pollyanna accepting an invitation to dinner, but you send it off anyhow, and hope the editor doesn't think you've lost a little grey matter out of the small amount you do have.

   Then comes the fan mail. You open these at arm's length, ready for anything. In the past, I had thought of fan mail as the plaudits of an enthusiastic public. Plaudits are few and far between. Write a masterpiece and the fans nod approval...but wouldn't consider writing to tell you thy enjoyed it. Write a run-of-the-mines yarn and they can't send enough letters to tell you what they think

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Page 18 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST AN Author OPENS HIS Mail FREDERIC ARNOLD KUMMER JR The most important moment of the day for an author is the time of the arrival of the morning mail. This usually shapes his mood for the day. The mail in my own neighborhood arrives late...about nine-thirty...and I find it impossible to do any work before it comes. Once I've looked over it, answered letters, learned the fate of several stories, I can start the day's work, grimly, or happily, according to the mail I have received. The morning's sheaf of letters is usually divided into three classes. First, bills, and personal correspondence. These are no interest except to me, and, perhaps, my creditors. Secondly, there is correspondence pertaining to work...checks, rejected scripts, letters from editors. And thirdly, there are the letters from fans. The business letters are, of course, the most important. And checks are, naturally, the most welcome. But when you see the postman bearing a large brown envelope, script size, there comes a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach and the family decide not to cross your path this day. Jaw set, you open the envelope and read the editor's letter. "Not enough action. Stop trying to write masterpieces." or "We just bought a yarn using this idea. Sorry." The author's frown deepens, and he mentally composes an indignant letter to the editor in defense of his yarn. Discretion, however, prevails and these letters are never written. If you are the forunate recipient of a check, however, you plunge into work with a broad grin, thinking, "There's nothing to it. Now if I can just get this one done and sold this month, I can buy......" Letters from editors requesting stories, making suggestions, asking for this or that, are in the main, encouraging. These are answered promptly, and worded carefully to create just the right impression. If it's a request for a story, you don't want to sound too anxious (even though the sheriff is camping on the front step) nor yet too casual. In the end your answer probably sounds like Pollyanna accepting an invitation to dinner, but you send it off anyhow, and hope the editor doesn't think you've lost a little grey matter out of the small amount you do have. Then comes the fan mail. You open these at arm's length, ready for anything. In the past, I had thought of fan mail as the plaudits of an enthusiastic public. Plaudits are few and far between. Write a masterpiece and the fans nod approval...but wouldn't consider writing to tell you thy enjoyed it. Write a run-of-the-mines yarn and they can't send enough letters to tell you what they think