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Acolyte, v. 1, issue 4, Summer 1943
Page 28
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tory well dug up by more capable writers in the past. There is no longer any use trying to appeal to the old-time reader of science-fiction. His appetite demands something new and there is nothing new to feed him. A new generation has arisen in the past fifteen years, to whom the old stuff is new. The old school did their best writing when the subject was new; anything they do now is not worthy of their former efforts. So they don't bother. Cheaper writers--hacks, if you will--have taken their place. They grind out the ancient formulas and situations in a juvenile way for the newer, juvenile readers. For a dear, departed friend, it is fitting and proper to shed a few tears at the grave. But ever to hope for a resurrection is beyond the bounds of possibility. **** Tell me, why are so many writes ashamed of the fact that they cannot plot? This type of writer persists in believing editors are gargoyles of formula jealousy guarding their precious pages from the plotless multitude. They read in these pages stinking plots that nauseate them and say, "If that is what the editor wants, he's crazy--I simply won't write it." Now the fact is, editors choose a stinking plot in preference to no plot at all. And where the difficulty comes in is that nobody can tell exactly what a plot is. A plot is like the string around a package. Merely wrapped around a number of times, it is bound soon to fall off. But once the two ends are tied, it can't fall off. And so help me, that is all a great many rejected stories need--the ends of the string tied together. You don't find a story like this in a magazine because it irks a reader to be given a rise, only for a let-down. When a story ends through the satisfaction of a purpose, the story has a plot, and the plot is weak insofar as the purpose is weak. Too many of my own stories have weak purpose, and this has been diagnosed as a weak plot. Even though Mr. Campbell has consistently rejected everything I ever sent him, I cannot condemn his policy. In my opinion, it has been responsible for producing some of the best fantasy ever written. When I can write half as well as some of the top-notchers who write for [[underline]]Unknown[[end underline]], I'll feel I'm getting somewhere. I feel that Harry Warnere, therefore, is making some highly uncalled-for remarks. Also, he is infuriated because he, apparently, does not understand some of the finer points of writing as discussed by Jack Woodford. Now I know Jack Woodford quite well. I once even collaborated--or would you call it that?--on a book with him. (The book never sold, but that is neither here nor there.) Mr. Warner mistake's Jac's meaning entirely on the connection of sex impulse with human endeavor. Apparently he has not heard of sublimation. Any competent psychiatrist will expound the same material, only in words ponderous in their enormity. Much as Warner may regret the fact, sex is here to stay. Without it, none of us would be here, nor, I believe, would we want to be here. Pure intellect has no "feeling"--the appreciation of art and beauty, sad though it may be to contemplate, is entirely physical. You see, the gentle differentiation is that Jac did [[underline]]not[[end underline]] say lecherousness or lasciviousness is connected with every human endeavor. He said [[underline]]sex[[end underline]]. And the effect of sex is no more the same as the effect of lechery as the effect of appetite is the same as that of hoggishness. If people would stop mentally translating the word "sex" into a certain -- 28 --
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tory well dug up by more capable writers in the past. There is no longer any use trying to appeal to the old-time reader of science-fiction. His appetite demands something new and there is nothing new to feed him. A new generation has arisen in the past fifteen years, to whom the old stuff is new. The old school did their best writing when the subject was new; anything they do now is not worthy of their former efforts. So they don't bother. Cheaper writers--hacks, if you will--have taken their place. They grind out the ancient formulas and situations in a juvenile way for the newer, juvenile readers. For a dear, departed friend, it is fitting and proper to shed a few tears at the grave. But ever to hope for a resurrection is beyond the bounds of possibility. **** Tell me, why are so many writes ashamed of the fact that they cannot plot? This type of writer persists in believing editors are gargoyles of formula jealousy guarding their precious pages from the plotless multitude. They read in these pages stinking plots that nauseate them and say, "If that is what the editor wants, he's crazy--I simply won't write it." Now the fact is, editors choose a stinking plot in preference to no plot at all. And where the difficulty comes in is that nobody can tell exactly what a plot is. A plot is like the string around a package. Merely wrapped around a number of times, it is bound soon to fall off. But once the two ends are tied, it can't fall off. And so help me, that is all a great many rejected stories need--the ends of the string tied together. You don't find a story like this in a magazine because it irks a reader to be given a rise, only for a let-down. When a story ends through the satisfaction of a purpose, the story has a plot, and the plot is weak insofar as the purpose is weak. Too many of my own stories have weak purpose, and this has been diagnosed as a weak plot. Even though Mr. Campbell has consistently rejected everything I ever sent him, I cannot condemn his policy. In my opinion, it has been responsible for producing some of the best fantasy ever written. When I can write half as well as some of the top-notchers who write for [[underline]]Unknown[[end underline]], I'll feel I'm getting somewhere. I feel that Harry Warnere, therefore, is making some highly uncalled-for remarks. Also, he is infuriated because he, apparently, does not understand some of the finer points of writing as discussed by Jack Woodford. Now I know Jack Woodford quite well. I once even collaborated--or would you call it that?--on a book with him. (The book never sold, but that is neither here nor there.) Mr. Warner mistake's Jac's meaning entirely on the connection of sex impulse with human endeavor. Apparently he has not heard of sublimation. Any competent psychiatrist will expound the same material, only in words ponderous in their enormity. Much as Warner may regret the fact, sex is here to stay. Without it, none of us would be here, nor, I believe, would we want to be here. Pure intellect has no "feeling"--the appreciation of art and beauty, sad though it may be to contemplate, is entirely physical. You see, the gentle differentiation is that Jac did [[underline]]not[[end underline]] say lecherousness or lasciviousness is connected with every human endeavor. He said [[underline]]sex[[end underline]]. And the effect of sex is no more the same as the effect of lechery as the effect of appetite is the same as that of hoggishness. If people would stop mentally translating the word "sex" into a certain -- 28 --
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