The question now is not whether the ideas above are true, or just twaddle-the question is whether or not there will be any book left if I cut them out. I hardly think there will be. Not even the mild thread of action-adventure, because all of the action is instigated by these heretical ideas. All of it.
Mr. Cady’s wish that I eliminate the first “miracle,” the disappearances on pp. 123-124, causes almost as much literary difficulty. Certainly, I can rewrite that scene, exactly as he suggested…but where does that leave me? That scene establishes all the other miracles in the story, of which there are dozens. Now I will stipulate that “miracles” are bad copy-but if I eliminate them, I must throw away the last 700 pages of the ms. — i.e., write an entirely different story. Miracles are the “convincer” throughout. Without them the Man from Mars cannot recruit Harshaw, Ben, Patty, Dr. Nelson, BOI even Jill-nobody! No story.
(I thought I had picked a comparatively slide-down-easy miracle, in that I picked one which has a theoretical mathematical inherent possibility and then established its rationale later in Harshaw’s study. But I’m afraid this one U like atomic power: no one but professional dreamers could believe in it until it happened. I might add that if I had trapped out that miracle with fake electronic gadg-flry I could have “disappeared” an elephant without a •quawk.)
All I can see to do now is to accept Mr. Cady’s most (mile offer to hold off six months while we see if some other publisher will take it without changes, or with changes I think I can make.
But I shan’t be surprised if nobody wants it. For the first time in my life I indulged in the luxury of writing without one eye on the taboos, the market, etc, I will be unsurprised and only moderately unhappy if it turns out that the result is unsalable.
If it can’t be sold more or less as it is, then I will make a mighty effort to satisfy Mr. Cady’s requirements. I don’t see how, but I will certainly try. Probably I would then make a trip to New York to have one or several story conferences with him, if he will spare me the time, since he must have some idea of how he thinks this story can be salvaged-and I’m afraid that I don’t.
The contract offered is gratifyingly satisfactory. But I want one change. I won’t take one-half on signing, one-half on approval of ms.; they must delay the entire advance until I submit an approved manuscript. It is unfair to them to tie up $1,500 in a story which may turn out to be unpublishable. I don’t care if this is the practice of the trade and that lots of authors do it; I disagree with the guild on this and think that it is a greedy habit that writers should forgo if they ever expect to be treated like business men and not children.
Please extend my warm thanks to Mr. Cady for his care and thoughtfulness. He must be a number one person — I look forward to meeting him someday.
October 31, 1960: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
I have thought about your suggested changes in The Man from Mars. I see your point in each case and do not object to making the changes…but it seems to me that I should leave the present form untouched until I start to revise and cut to suit the ideas of some particular publisher. If I do it for Putnam’s, then the horrendous job of meeting Mr. Cady’s [of Putnam] requirements will automatically include all the changes you mention-in fact, most of the book will be changed beyond recognition.
But I still have a faint hope that some publisher will risk it without such drastic changes and cutting.
December 4, 1960: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
Lurton, I do not think I have told you what a wonderful job I think you have done in placing this ms. I wrote the thing with my eye intentionally not on the market. For twenty years I have always had one eye on the market with the other on the copy in this mill (yes, even when I disagreed with editors or producers). But I knew that I could never get away from slick hack work, slanted at a market, unless I cut loose and ignored the market…and I did want to write at least one story in which I spoke freely, ignoring the length, taboos, etc.