waste your time to send them.
The present work [The Pastures of Heaven] interests me and perhaps falls in the âaspectsâ theme you mention. There is, about twelve miles from Monterey, a valley in the hills called Corral de Tierra. Because I am using its people I have named it Las Pasturas del Cielo. The valley was for years known as the happy valley because of the unique harmony which existed among its twenty families. About ten years ago a new family moved in on one of the ranches. They were ordinary people, ill-educated but honest and as kindly as any. In fact, in their whole history I cannot find that they have committed a really malicious act nor an act which was not dictated by honorable expediency or out-and-out altruism. But about the Morans there was a flavor of evil. Everyone they came in contact with was injured. Every place they went dissension sprang up. There have been two murders, a suicide, many quarrels and a great deal of unhappiness in the Pastures of Heaven, and all of these things can be traced directly to the influence of the Morans. So much is true.
I am using the following method. The manuscript is made up of stories, each one complete in itself, having its rise, climax and ending. Each story deals with a family or an individual. They are tied together only by the common locality and by the contact with the Morans. Some of the stories are very short and some as long as fifteen thousand words. I thought of combining them with that thirty-thousand word ms. called Dissonant Symphony to make one volume. I wonder whether you think this is a good plan. I think the plan at least falls very definitely in the aspects of American life category. I have finished several and am working on others steadily. They should be done by this fall.
That is all I can think of. If there was more to be answered it is in the stomachs of those khaki-colored devils in the garden. They are eating the fence now. The appetite of a puppy ranks with Grand Canyon for pure stupendousness.
I am very grateful to you for your interest and to Carl Wilhelmson for his recommendation. He, by the way, is so abjectly melancholy that I imagine he is either in love or very happy about something.
Sincerely,
John Steinbeck
To Amasa Miller
Pacific Grove
1931
Dear Ted:
I donât like to be so completely cut off from you as I have been during the last few months. If you are commuting from the country I know why you havenât written, but I should have written oftener.
Life goes on here. I continue writing even more than usual. At my death, my estate will consist of many bales of paper, most of it written only on one side. It should be worth a pretty sum.
My adventures with Mclntosh and Otis have been amusing. Said house pursues a policy of flattery. At the request of Miss Otis I have dispatched a number of the short stories. They have been hailed, appreciated and sent back post paid. Have not heard from Miss McIntosh for some time, but I guess my novels are saddening her. Apparently she canât even sell my detective story. I donât quite understand their policy, but obviously they try to sell the things. Whatever became of the ms. unfortunately named Dissonant Symphony? I am getting along pretty well with the companion pieceâreally some very good stories in it, and interesting to do.
Tillie has had distemper but we are pulling her out of it nicely. The medicines and shots in the neck ruined us though. Having lost Bruga partly through carelessness, we werenât going to take any chances with Tillie.
I am daily expecting to receive both of my novels back. That will be a blow but I donât see how I can escape it. My work is improving, I thinkâand eventually I shall be able to dispose of all of it, but this is rather a long period of waiting, donât you think? Joe Hamilton [his uncle] writes that some of his friends who were making ten thousand a year canât sell a fifty-dollar story. What chance
The present work [The Pastures of Heaven] interests me and perhaps falls in the âaspectsâ theme you mention. There is, about twelve miles from Monterey, a valley in the hills called Corral de Tierra. Because I am using its people I have named it Las Pasturas del Cielo. The valley was for years known as the happy valley because of the unique harmony which existed among its twenty families. About ten years ago a new family moved in on one of the ranches. They were ordinary people, ill-educated but honest and as kindly as any. In fact, in their whole history I cannot find that they have committed a really malicious act nor an act which was not dictated by honorable expediency or out-and-out altruism. But about the Morans there was a flavor of evil. Everyone they came in contact with was injured. Every place they went dissension sprang up. There have been two murders, a suicide, many quarrels and a great deal of unhappiness in the Pastures of Heaven, and all of these things can be traced directly to the influence of the Morans. So much is true.
I am using the following method. The manuscript is made up of stories, each one complete in itself, having its rise, climax and ending. Each story deals with a family or an individual. They are tied together only by the common locality and by the contact with the Morans. Some of the stories are very short and some as long as fifteen thousand words. I thought of combining them with that thirty-thousand word ms. called Dissonant Symphony to make one volume. I wonder whether you think this is a good plan. I think the plan at least falls very definitely in the aspects of American life category. I have finished several and am working on others steadily. They should be done by this fall.
That is all I can think of. If there was more to be answered it is in the stomachs of those khaki-colored devils in the garden. They are eating the fence now. The appetite of a puppy ranks with Grand Canyon for pure stupendousness.
I am very grateful to you for your interest and to Carl Wilhelmson for his recommendation. He, by the way, is so abjectly melancholy that I imagine he is either in love or very happy about something.
Sincerely,
John Steinbeck
To Amasa Miller
Pacific Grove
1931
Dear Ted:
I donât like to be so completely cut off from you as I have been during the last few months. If you are commuting from the country I know why you havenât written, but I should have written oftener.
Life goes on here. I continue writing even more than usual. At my death, my estate will consist of many bales of paper, most of it written only on one side. It should be worth a pretty sum.
My adventures with Mclntosh and Otis have been amusing. Said house pursues a policy of flattery. At the request of Miss Otis I have dispatched a number of the short stories. They have been hailed, appreciated and sent back post paid. Have not heard from Miss McIntosh for some time, but I guess my novels are saddening her. Apparently she canât even sell my detective story. I donât quite understand their policy, but obviously they try to sell the things. Whatever became of the ms. unfortunately named Dissonant Symphony? I am getting along pretty well with the companion pieceâreally some very good stories in it, and interesting to do.
Tillie has had distemper but we are pulling her out of it nicely. The medicines and shots in the neck ruined us though. Having lost Bruga partly through carelessness, we werenât going to take any chances with Tillie.
I am daily expecting to receive both of my novels back. That will be a blow but I donât see how I can escape it. My work is improving, I thinkâand eventually I shall be able to dispose of all of it, but this is rather a long period of waiting, donât you think? Joe Hamilton [his uncle] writes that some of his friends who were making ten thousand a year canât sell a fifty-dollar story. What chance
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