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Southern Star, v. 1, issue 3, August 1941

Page 6

Mumblings     SOUTHERN STAR     Page 6

one year, and could complete the list.
A project such as that would sell about two hundred copies, with the proper advertising and allowing several months for the selling. On the basis of two hundred sales, the publication would sell for ten-cents a copy, and do better than break even; figuring of course on a working base. The cost would vary in other localities. It goes without saying of course that the deal must be strictly cash, the two hundred copies must be sold, not trade, to pay for itself. Who volunteers for the JOB?

Printing confidential letters from fans being somewhat of a crime it has occured to us that it is a corresponding crime not to print some of the letters. We usually find our mail highly interesting, particularly when written by a hard-hearted person who doesn't give three damns what Planet or Unknown is currently offering, and finds more pleasure in reporting the inner natures of fan acquaintances. Could some of these letters be published, they would, because of the high interest, crowd a fanzine's regular columns and articles into the back of the magazine behind a reader's dept.
We have in mind a long colorful letter from Elmer Perdue, written for publication at our invitation, upon the completion of his long journey across country from New York City to his home in Rock Springs, Wyoming. Enroute he visited Philedelphia, Cleveland, Chicago and us. We told Elmer to pack his letter chock-full of juicy morsels and to pull no punches; and we would run it in LeZ. He did. We didn't. We Iost nerve. The letter, as an article, is now hopelessly outdated, but it remains a treasure.

Probably the dream of every fan who someday expects to rise above the disgracing "outer circle" brand, is to edit a professional magazine. Horatio Alger like, some of them do; but with one exception you must apparently live in the big city to do it.
We have one of those dreams too, but it is quite battered and kicked around lately. Our idea of a dream pro-mag is a semi-slick thing, in the format and general appearance of, say, Writers Digest or one of the streamlined mechanix[[?]] montlies, with perhaps 140 pages at 20 [[cent symbol]] On the cover we would have but one word, the title, altho it might be necessary to include the date and price. A Really fantastic, yet beautiful painting would be thereon; I have in mind two superb creations of McCauley (Fantastic Adventures)-- the one for "Floating Robot", and the latest, title unknown to me, picturing a red-haired miss ridding a dragon. St. John, too, would have his chance.
The fiction would be startlingly different from anything now appearing in the pulps. I have read a small bit of fantasy in slick magazines, such as Liberty, Ladies Home Journal and the like that struck me right there! I would stick mellerdramas, ray guns, hurtling ships, exploding generators, mad scientists, bug-eyed monsters, alien invaders, horrible slimes, invisible murderers, and all their silkening ilk into the wastebasket and tromp on them gleefully. In the pages of the magazine would be stories . . . not names, not plots, not action, not lockjaw, well, that's too bad, our little heroine would, presumably, have to journey forth into the world to find another lover.

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Mumblings SOUTHERN STAR Page 6 one year, and could complete the list. A project such as that would sell about two hundred copies, with the proper advertising and allowing several months for the selling. On the basis of two hundred sales, the publication would sell for ten-cents a copy, and do better than break even; figuring of course on a working base. The cost would vary in other localities. It goes without saying of course that the deal must be strictly cash, the two hundred copies must be sold, not trade, to pay for itself. Who volunteers for the JOB? Printing confidential letters from fans being somewhat of a crime it has occured to us that it is a corresponding crime not to print some of the letters. We usually find our mail highly interesting, particularly when written by a hard-hearted person who doesn't give three damns what Planet or Unknown is currently offering, and finds more pleasure in reporting the inner natures of fan acquaintances. Could some of these letters be published, they would, because of the high interest, crowd a fanzine's regular columns and articles into the back of the magazine behind a reader's dept. We have in mind a long colorful letter from Elmer Perdue, written for publication at our invitation, upon the completion of his long journey across country from New York City to his home in Rock Springs, Wyoming. Enroute he visited Philedelphia, Cleveland, Chicago and us. We told Elmer to pack his letter chock-full of juicy morsels and to pull no punches; and we would run it in LeZ. He did. We didn't. We Iost nerve. The letter, as an article, is now hopelessly outdated, but it remains a treasure. Probably the dream of every fan who someday expects to rise above the disgracing "outer circle" brand, is to edit a professional magazine. Horatio Alger like, some of them do; but with one exception you must apparently live in the big city to do it. We have one of those dreams too, but it is quite battered and kicked around lately. Our idea of a dream pro-mag is a semi-slick thing, in the format and general appearance of, say, Writers Digest or one of the streamlined mechanix[[?]] montlies, with perhaps 140 pages at 20 [[cent symbol]] On the cover we would have but one word, the title, altho it might be necessary to include the date and price. A Really fantastic, yet beautiful painting would be thereon; I have in mind two superb creations of McCauley (Fantastic Adventures)-- the one for "Floating Robot", and the latest, title unknown to me, picturing a red-haired miss ridding a dragon. St. John, too, would have his chance. The fiction would be startlingly different from anything now appearing in the pulps. I have read a small bit of fantasy in slick magazines, such as Liberty, Ladies Home Journal and the like that struck me right there! I would stick mellerdramas, ray guns, hurtling ships, exploding generators, mad scientists, bug-eyed monsters, alien invaders, horrible slimes, invisible murderers, and all their silkening ilk into the wastebasket and tromp on them gleefully. In the pages of the magazine would be stories . . . not names, not plots, not action, not lockjaw, well, that's too bad, our little heroine would, presumably, have to journey forth into the world to find another lover.