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Francis Irby Gwaltney, November 9, 1963: Difference between revisions
Francis Irby Gwaltney, November 9, 1963 (view source)
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{{NMletter}} | {{NMletter}} | ||
{{Letterhead start|styles = margin: 2em 2em 2em 2em}} | {{Letterhead start|styles = margin: 2em 2em 2em 2em}} | ||
:::::::::::::::142 Columbia Heights | :::::::::::::::::::::142 Columbia Heights | ||
:::::::::::::::Brooklyn 1, New York | :::::::::::::::::::::Brooklyn 1, New York | ||
:::::::::::::::November 9, 1963 | :::::::::::::::::::::November 9, 1963 | ||
Dear Fig<ref>Mailer served in the Army with “Fig” (1921-1981), a teacher, novelist and native of Arkansas. During a visit there in March 1975, he introduced Mailer to the woman who became his sixth wife, Barbara Norris Church Mailer | Dear Fig,<ref>Mailer served in the Army with “Fig” (1921-1981), a teacher, novelist and native of Arkansas. During a visit there in March 1975, he introduced Mailer to the woman who became his sixth wife, Barbara [[Norris Church Mailer]].</ref> | ||
I really enjoyed the hell out of your last letter and have taken a month and a half to get around to answering it only because I’ve gotten caught up in a job of work which could be killing if it gets going wrong. I decided the only way out of my financial hole was to take a jump, and so I contracted with ''Esquire'' to write a novel in eight parts, each installment (ten thousand words) will appear in a successive month, and since I didn’t have anything behind me when I started, it comes down to writing a book in eight months, which has a finished draft good enough to make it a good novel. I did, however, succeed in selling it to Dial and Dell before I started for a price so large it’s crazy, and what’s good about this is that I’ll have economic freedom for a couple of years and may be able to do my big book in relative calm. | I really enjoyed the hell out of your last letter and have taken a month and a half to get around to answering it only because I’ve gotten caught up in a job of work which could be killing if it gets going wrong. I decided the only way out of my financial hole was to take a jump, and so I contracted with ''Esquire'' to write a novel in eight parts, each installment (ten thousand words) will appear in a successive month, and since I didn’t have anything behind me when I started, it comes down to writing a book in eight months, which has a finished draft good enough to make it a good novel. I did, however, succeed in selling it to Dial and Dell before I started for a price so large it’s crazy, and what’s good about this is that I’ll have economic freedom for a couple of years and may be able to do my big book in relative calm. | ||
Incidentally, the agent I had who brought this deal off was a real live wire who accomplished a hell of a lot for me—his name is Scott | Incidentally, the agent I had who brought this deal off was a real live wire who accomplished a hell of a lot for me—his name is [[w:Scott Meredith|Scott Meredith]]—and so if you’re dissatisfied with John when the time comes to get a new book published, maybe it would be worth your while to let Scott take a crack at it. | ||
Things are going along quietly in New York with lots of work, and Bev and I take off for two weeks each month to the country, either to Provincetown or to Jamaica, Vermont, and there I sweat the fat drop and try to do my work. I’d love to get out to Ruston to see you this winter, but I don’t think there’s too much chance of it, what with the work schedule. Maybe if I get fed up with the East I’ll go out to do my two-week’s stint in Louisiana. But the trouble is that I’m very poor company when I’m writing and so hesitate to visit friends at such a time. If the impulse ever did take me, what airplane route does one take to get into the vicinity of northern Louisiana? | Things are going along quietly in New York with lots of work, and [[w:Beverley Bentley|Bev]] and I take off for two weeks each month to the country, either to Provincetown or to Jamaica, Vermont, and there I sweat the fat drop and try to do my work. I’d love to get out to Ruston to see you this winter, but I don’t think there’s too much chance of it, what with the work schedule. Maybe if I get fed up with the East I’ll go out to do my two-week’s stint in Louisiana. But the trouble is that I’m very poor company when I’m writing and so hesitate to visit friends at such a time. If the impulse ever did take me, what airplane route does one take to get into the vicinity of northern Louisiana? | ||
This letter isn’t as long as I’d like it to be, but that’s because I haven’t answered any mail in a month and so as usual I have to knock off sixty letters in a day and half. | This letter isn’t as long as I’d like it to be, but that’s because I haven’t answered any mail in a month and so as usual I have to knock off sixty letters in a day and half. | ||
:::::::::::::::Norman<br/> | Give my love to your sly-boots lady and to Yee-Yee and to Frank. Bev sends her love,<br /> | ||
:::::::::::::::::::::Norman<br/> | |||
{{Letterhead end}} | {{Letterhead end}} | ||