DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Variant, v. 1, issue 3, September 1947

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Variant, v. 1, issue 3, September 1947

Page 21

has been reduced by sale. Some are too short and some too long, and some are dated. I have an idea that eventually several will be published.

9. THE NOVEL: For years I wrote these mainly for my own pleasure. At least I never tried to sell any, but they had interesting titles, Wanderers in Spain, The Gentle Pirate, The Adorable Fool, The Lady Decides, The Fighting Woman, The dream Journey, The Feminine World, Deepening Shadows. They were from 50,000 to 70,000 words long. Fortunately for me, i never tried to duplicate in length such monstrosities as Gone With the Wind and 'Anthony'Adverse. I have recently sold The Eternal Conflict and have hopes of selling my last venture, The  Homunculus.

10. DIALOGUE: Only one in this group, called Improbable. Perhaps some day this will be printed in a collection. Otheewise I doubt that it will ever be born, although it would be appreciated by every married man.

11. DRAMA: I think that every writer tries to write at least one play. I have one all ready to write, having spent many hours dreaming about it, but so far not even a note concerning it on paper. Perhaps someday I will write it, publish it in a very limited edition under a pen name, and have the peculiar satisfaction that no one will guess I wrote it.

12. AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Some years ago I finished a 400 page account of 25 years of my life spent in hospitals with the Abnormals of Society. I enjoyed writing it and had hopes that it could be marketed. But all who read it want it rewritten, each in a different way and this I refused to do, so there is a large book with some fine writing and unusual experiences in it andprobably it will remain simply as a source of satisfaction to me and an occasional friend who cares to wade through it.

13. UNFINISHED WORKS: I have been told that it is treason for an author to die without leaving at least one unfinished work. Some years ago I wrote at white heat 70 pages of a novel called The Abyss and then was called to the service and for five years it remained 70 pages. I also started a revision of my novel, The Adorable Fool and I have 19 pages of a science-fiction tale called The Prophet. If I live long enough, I may finish some of these, for I am uneasy in regard to anyone doing the job for me.

After reviewing these 52 years of writing I ask myself whether the effort was worthwhile, and what reward, if any, I received. It seems that satisfaction and happiness is the chief compensation. The spoiling of beautiful white paper with well selected words and occasional perfect sentence should remain the great ambition of the would be author. Thus in this half century of writing I can truthfully say that I have followed the pattern of the ancient teller of tales.
The story teller sat near the fire surrounded by the tribe and he told them stories and none could tell whether he was speaking the truth or depending on his imagination. When he finished, they cracked a choice marrow bone and gave it to him to eat, which he did, and was glad that it was a bone, and not a cup of hemlock, handed to him by an Editor.

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has been reduced by sale. Some are too short and some too long, and some are dated. I have an idea that eventually several will be published. 9. THE NOVEL: For years I wrote these mainly for my own pleasure. At least I never tried to sell any, but they had interesting titles, Wanderers in Spain, The Gentle Pirate, The Adorable Fool, The Lady Decides, The Fighting Woman, The dream Journey, The Feminine World, Deepening Shadows. They were from 50,000 to 70,000 words long. Fortunately for me, i never tried to duplicate in length such monstrosities as Gone With the Wind and 'Anthony'Adverse. I have recently sold The Eternal Conflict and have hopes of selling my last venture, The Homunculus. 10. DIALOGUE: Only one in this group, called Improbable. Perhaps some day this will be printed in a collection. Otheewise I doubt that it will ever be born, although it would be appreciated by every married man. 11. DRAMA: I think that every writer tries to write at least one play. I have one all ready to write, having spent many hours dreaming about it, but so far not even a note concerning it on paper. Perhaps someday I will write it, publish it in a very limited edition under a pen name, and have the peculiar satisfaction that no one will guess I wrote it. 12. AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Some years ago I finished a 400 page account of 25 years of my life spent in hospitals with the Abnormals of Society. I enjoyed writing it and had hopes that it could be marketed. But all who read it want it rewritten, each in a different way and this I refused to do, so there is a large book with some fine writing and unusual experiences in it andprobably it will remain simply as a source of satisfaction to me and an occasional friend who cares to wade through it. 13. UNFINISHED WORKS: I have been told that it is treason for an author to die without leaving at least one unfinished work. Some years ago I wrote at white heat 70 pages of a novel called The Abyss and then was called to the service and for five years it remained 70 pages. I also started a revision of my novel, The Adorable Fool and I have 19 pages of a science-fiction tale called The Prophet. If I live long enough, I may finish some of these, for I am uneasy in regard to anyone doing the job for me. After reviewing these 52 years of writing I ask myself whether the effort was worthwhile, and what reward, if any, I received. It seems that satisfaction and happiness is the chief compensation. The spoiling of beautiful white paper with well selected words and occasional perfect sentence should remain the great ambition of the would be author. Thus in this half century of writing I can truthfully say that I have followed the pattern of the ancient teller of tales. The story teller sat near the fire surrounded by the tribe and he told them stories and none could tell whether he was speaking the truth or depending on his imagination. When he finished, they cracked a choice marrow bone and gave it to him to eat, which he did, and was glad that it was a bone, and not a cup of hemlock, handed to him by an Editor. (21)