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Fanomena, March 1948

Page 11

reason, to make money for the owners; if he fails to do this he will soon lose his position. Most magazines print stories of one type and it is very difficult to induce the editors to buy off-trail stories, no matter how fine they are.
The writer has spent valuable time writing the story; now he has to decide how much money he can spend on express and stamps. He has a definite investment of time and cash in the story; if it is a novel and he has paid a professional typist to prepare the final copy he has a  manuscript that easily has cost him $100. Each time he sends this out and has a rejection he invests at least $2.50 more. The time always comes when the writer has to arrive at a decision whether to keep on investing in a story or simply stop.
If he likes his story, if the editor likes it and buys it, there still remains the problem of the reader. The public remains an unsolved mystery; it seems that they either like an author or they do not like him, and if they detest him they have no hesitancy in saying that ALL of his work is utterly poor. It seems best for the writer to ignor, at least not be influenced by, the reader. Once he writes only for their approval he becomes simply a pimp, prostituting his art for financial returns.
The question arises as to the value of a literary agent. Personally I have small confidence in them. If a story is pure gold it will sell without their help; if it is dross, then they will be as unable to sell it as the writer is.
It would appear that there is no easy road to success int he field of writing. It is simply hard, time-consuming work filled with periods of discouragement and disillusions. During such times only a supreme determination and a profound faith in personal ability make it possible to continue writing. Fortunately the occasional success of a story acts with the efficiency of a stimulating hypodermic.
I would advise anyone wishing to become a writer to cleanse himself of all ambition and become a plumber or a carpenter. By doing so he will always be assured of a satisfactory income, and if he HAS TO WRITE, he can do so on Sundays and holidays. Of course, if the obsession of authorship is too strong, he simply will write irrespective of any advice, even if he has to live in a garret and exist on crusts and bones.
A word should be given to the amateur publications popularly known as fanzines. It seems that there is a disease manifested by the desire to publish a magazine, and this is as deadly as the mania for writing. I admit that in the past I have contributed largely to these amateur editors, and I wish all writers would do the same. Send them your best stories, and NOT the worst. I am rather proud of the fact that tales like THE GOLDEN BOUGH, THE DEAD WOMAN, HEREDITY, and BINDINGS DE LUX first appeared in amateur publications .
This article is written from the personal experiences of fifty years of writing. There is no doubt that the disease, the utter folly of trying to become an author has become chronic. Again and again I have promised myself that I will write no more; always I have returned to the typewriter as the addict does to his cocaine or opium. Realizing the incurability of the disease there is only one word of advice I can give:
DON'T START WRITING!

A MESSAGE FROM KELLER

January 7, 1948

To all my Friends:

I wish to take this opportunity of thanking Andy Lyon and all other contributors to this issue of FANOMENA. I appreciate the courtesy shown by Andy in devoting an entire number of his magazine to such a purpose, and trust that it will serve to allow me to become better acquainted with those who have, for twenty years, received some measure of pleasure from reading my stories.
Very sincerely,
David H. Keller
11

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reason, to make money for the owners; if he fails to do this he will soon lose his position. Most magazines print stories of one type and it is very difficult to induce the editors to buy off-trail stories, no matter how fine they are. The writer has spent valuable time writing the story; now he has to decide how much money he can spend on express and stamps. He has a definite investment of time and cash in the story; if it is a novel and he has paid a professional typist to prepare the final copy he has a manuscript that easily has cost him $100. Each time he sends this out and has a rejection he invests at least $2.50 more. The time always comes when the writer has to arrive at a decision whether to keep on investing in a story or simply stop. If he likes his story, if the editor likes it and buys it, there still remains the problem of the reader. The public remains an unsolved mystery; it seems that they either like an author or they do not like him, and if they detest him they have no hesitancy in saying that ALL of his work is utterly poor. It seems best for the writer to ignor, at least not be influenced by, the reader. Once he writes only for their approval he becomes simply a pimp, prostituting his art for financial returns. The question arises as to the value of a literary agent. Personally I have small confidence in them. If a story is pure gold it will sell without their help; if it is dross, then they will be as unable to sell it as the writer is. It would appear that there is no easy road to success int he field of writing. It is simply hard, time-consuming work filled with periods of discouragement and disillusions. During such times only a supreme determination and a profound faith in personal ability make it possible to continue writing. Fortunately the occasional success of a story acts with the efficiency of a stimulating hypodermic. I would advise anyone wishing to become a writer to cleanse himself of all ambition and become a plumber or a carpenter. By doing so he will always be assured of a satisfactory income, and if he HAS TO WRITE, he can do so on Sundays and holidays. Of course, if the obsession of authorship is too strong, he simply will write irrespective of any advice, even if he has to live in a garret and exist on crusts and bones. A word should be given to the amateur publications popularly known as fanzines. It seems that there is a disease manifested by the desire to publish a magazine, and this is as deadly as the mania for writing. I admit that in the past I have contributed largely to these amateur editors, and I wish all writers would do the same. Send them your best stories, and NOT the worst. I am rather proud of the fact that tales like THE GOLDEN BOUGH, THE DEAD WOMAN, HEREDITY, and BINDINGS DE LUX first appeared in amateur publications . This article is written from the personal experiences of fifty years of writing. There is no doubt that the disease, the utter folly of trying to become an author has become chronic. Again and again I have promised myself that I will write no more; always I have returned to the typewriter as the addict does to his cocaine or opium. Realizing the incurability of the disease there is only one word of advice I can give: DON'T START WRITING! A MESSAGE FROM KELLER January 7, 1948 To all my Friends: I wish to take this opportunity of thanking Andy Lyon and all other contributors to this issue of FANOMENA. I appreciate the courtesy shown by Andy in devoting an entire number of his magazine to such a purpose, and trust that it will serve to allow me to become better acquainted with those who have, for twenty years, received some measure of pleasure from reading my stories. Very sincerely, David H. Keller 11