Working Days (9 page)

In early October, rebuked often enough by his wife’s example and by her words (Ma Joad’s indomitableness owes much to Carol’s spirit), Steinbeck roused himself from “self-indulgence” and “laziness” to mount the final drive. Blessedly, the last five chapters of the novel came to him so abundantly that he had more material than he could use. Some time around noon on Wednesday, October 26, he completed the last 775 words of the novel; at the bottom of the concluding manuscript page, Steinbeck, whose writing was normally minuscule, scrawled in letters an inch-and-a-half high, END#. It should have been cause for joyous celebration, but between bouts of bone-weary tiredness and nervous exhaustion, he felt only numbness, and maybe a little of the mysterious satisfaction that comes from giving his all. He certainly had no grasp of the book’s effectiveness or its potential popularity, and he even warned The Viking Press against a large first printing. Following a four-day recuperation in San Francisco, the Steinbecks moved to their new home (still under construction), where Carol finished typing the 751-page typescript, and together they made “routine” final corrections. The only “clean” copy of the book was sent to his New York agents, McIntosh and Otis, on December 7, 1938, roughly six months after he sat down to write the novel. Elizabeth Otis’s visit to Los Gatos in late December 1938, to smooth out some of Steinbeck’s “rough” language, its enthusiastic reception at Viking (marred briefly by the wrangling which ensued over the novel’s controversial ending) all struck the novelist as anticlimactic. (He was by then suffering from severely painful sciatica, undoubtedly caused by a herniated spinal disk, one of the ironic results of his sedentary existence.)

Right after the novel appreared in April, Steinbeck took off for the Middle West to work as an “Assistant Cameraman” for Lorentz, who was planning to film Paul de Kruif’s
The Fight for Life
at Chicago’s Maternity Hospital. Steinbeck appreciated the anonymity that came from long hours of hard work in a strange city, and the challenge of learning the nuts and bolts of a new artistic vehicle, but there was still an element of “pure escapism” in his trip (Pare Lorentz/Robert DeMott, telephone interview, March 22, 1988). It was a pattern Steinbeck would repeat several times over the next few years. Though he wasn’t aware of it then, he had closed the door on an entire chapter of his life. The frenzied public clamor and vicious personal attacks over
The Grapes of Wrath
confirmed his worst fears about the fruits of success and pushed the tensions between the Steinbecks to the breaking point. “Something has to be worked out or I am finished writing,” he told Otis on June 22, 1939. “I went south to work and I came back to find Carol just about hysterical. She had just been pushed beyond endurance” (Steinbeck and Wallsten, eds.,
Steinbeck: A Life in Letters,
p. 183). Steinbeck did not quit writing, but by the early 1940s, no longer content to be the chronicler of Depression-era subjects, he went afield to find new roots, new sources. He would never be the same writer again.

 

 

Entry #2
[May 31, 1938—Tuesday]

Here is the diary of a book and it will be interesting to see how it works out. I have tried to keep diaries before but they don’t work out because of the necessity to be honest. In matters where there is no definite truth, I gravitate toward the opposite. Sometimes where there is a definite truth, I am revolted by its smugness and do the same. In this however, I shall try simply to keep a record of working days and the amount done in each and the success (as far as I can know it) of the day. Just now the work goes well. * It is nearly the first of June. That means I have seven months to do this book and I should like to take them but I imagine five will be the limit. I have never taken long actually to do the writing. I want this one to be leisurely though. That is one of the reasons for the diary.

 

 

Entry #3
June 1, 1938—Wednesday

To work at 10:30. Minimum of two pages. Duke
^*
expected today making it not so good. Yesterday turtle episode which satisfies me in a number of ways. Today’s project—Joad’s walk down the road and meeting with the minister [Ed.—opening section of Chapter 4]. Dinner tonight at Pauls’
^*
with Rays
^*
along. Day is over. Finished my two pages. I think pretty well. Casy the preacher must be strongly developed as a thoughtful, well-rounded character. Must show quickly the developing of a questing mind and a developing leadership. Duke not here yet. Tomorrow must begin relationship between these men [Ed.—Tom Joad and Jim Casy].

 

 

Entry #4
June 2 [1938]—10:30—Thursday

Drive continues. Today the argument against sin and the means of losing it—the quest for the true spirit [Ed.—middle section of Chapter 4]. This should be a good sharp section. Duke did not arrive. Probably today. Dinner at Louis’s very interesting. He read two sections and there is a very fine tone to them. Conversation re hay fever, a curious rationalization. Locked her [Ed.—Steinbeck’s Airedale terrier] in my bathroom last night. She was good. Weather is superb—hot but not too hot. Letter from Paul Jordan Smith
^*
who wants to come up end of the month. One hundred days of writing will finish this book, I think. That is four months. Means I should get first draft done in October and that is allowing lots of lee way for last. Must leave room every day for further comment. Turtle sequence stands up [Ed.—Chapter 3].

 

 

Entry #5
June 3 [1938]—[Friday]

Duke arrived yesterday. Left this morning. Sue and Bob showed up this morning. Had to kick them out. Simply can’t have people around on working days. Carol spending the day down on the [Ed.—Monterey] peninsula. Telephone ringing pretty badly. Suggested
The Long Valley
^*
as title for shorts. Irritated today. People want to come to see me next Monday. Can’t be. Just want to sit. Day not propitious. Have a loose feeling that makes me nervous. Will get to work and try to forget all the bothers. I get nuts if not protected from all the outside stuff. Dinner tonight at Tolertons’.
^*
I like them very much. Must make note of work progress at the end of this day. I want to finish my stint if I possibly can. Impulses to do other things. Wind blowing over me, etc. But must continue today for sake of discipline. Well, the stint is done but I think I’ll try to finish out the chapter tomorrow [Ed.—Chapter 4]. Be about one more page. Lionel Smith came over. Bob C. * and Margery Bailey
^*
coming down tomorrow night. Glad I got done. I hate to break the discipline.

Entry #6
June 4 [1938]-2:40-Saturday

Going to do a little work today—perhaps a page to finish the chapter of Casy and Joad. If it doesn’t get done, it doesn’t matter. But since the next chapter [Ed.—Chapter 5] tells of the coming of the tractors and must have a symphonic overtone, and, moreover, may not be more than four or five pages long, it would be just as well to limit the day’s work to this chapter. Hence this attempt. Finished Chapter II [Ed.—Chapter 4]. Now must make music again. But on Monday and that will be

 

 

Have really only one page to do to keep up with schedule but I want to do this short over-chapter complete in one day and so I will work at it until it is done. I had wanted to hear some music first but the washing machine is going and I’ll have a fairly hard time. I would do it tonight but must go to the dentist and my jaws will be battered. My whole nervous system is battered. Don’t know why. I hope I am not headed for a nervous breakdown. Lack of solitude
^*
is doing it I think. But I don’t know. I am very happy in this work, I do know that. It satisfies me so far. But I wish I could have the music. I really need the music. * Too many things happening. It would be interrupted and that would be worse than not playing it at all. Well—to work and if it doesn’t go well, I’ll wait until the washing machine stops and then do it. Try now though. Now the two pages are done and I think well done. But there is one more day of work on the inter-chapter 3 [Ed.— Chapter 5]. Have to make the sound of the tractors and the dust of the tractors. I’ll have to have music before that, and the date will be

 

 

Entry #8
June 7 [1938]—11:00 [Tuesday]

Now it is a fairly early start. Today’s work is the overtone of the tractors, the men who run them, the men they displace, the sound of them, the smell of them. I’ve got to get this over. Got to because this one’s tone is very important—this is the eviction sound and the tonal reason for the movement. Must do it well. I am one page ahead so that if I should go no farther I should still have caught up. And so to do it. I am not frightened of this any more. Too much a part of it finally. Letter from Rodman* this morning. My traffic fine was $2.50. Thought it might be twenty-five. But now to work. Well that is finished and I hope it is good [Ed.—second half of Chapter 5]. I think it is. Now back to the particular [Ed.—the Joad narrative] again. And the date will be

 

 

Entry #9
June 8 [1938]—10:45 [Wednesday]

This is the longest diary I ever kept. Not a diary of course but an attempt to map the actual working days and hours of a novel. If a day is skipped it will show glaringly on this record and there will be some reason given for the slip. Yesterday the general and now back to the particular. I find I am not very satisfied with the numbering of these chapters. It may be that they will simply be numbered with large numerals for the general and small for the particular. The reason is that I want the reader to be able to keep them separate in his mind. Today Joad and Casy come home and find the house deserted. They meet Muley Graves and he tells them where Joad’s parents are. They sleep in Muley’s deserted house. Background for the moving comes in here. This is followed by the general [Ed.—Chapter 7] of the old cars, of the equipment, of the moving technique, and then the Joad family enters and the book really gets moving. Well, that’s done but only a little into this chapter. I think maybe two or three more days on this chapter [Ed.—Chapter 6] I think. And tomorrow will be

 

 

Entry #10
June 9 [1938]—11:45 [Thursday]

Late start today. Last night two boys down from Stanford. They tied me in knots as nicely as I could do it to anyone when I was in Stanford. Nice kids and bright and alert ones. I like to see them and hear them. They cross examined me on the universe and man. I found difficulty in getting out of this book long enough to be anything but dull. This single track mind seems to be a narrow gauge as well. Now to the day’s work and now Muley comes in and the reason for the desertion becomes apparent. Also the night comes with sleeping in the darkening plain and stars [Ed.—Chapter 6]. And after that I think a small inter chapter or maybe a large one dealing with the equipment of migration. Well here goes for Muley. Well that is done. I like Muley. He is a fine hater. Must write a few letters now.

 

 

Entry #11
June 10 [1938]—11:30 [Friday]

Friday around again. And a little mail. Wire from Crawford, letter from Ford. * Says he is going on the road with the show for which I am glad indeed for I think he is fine. I hope it has a good run. With luck I should be finished with this first draft in October sometime and then God knows what I’ll do. I’ll surely be ready for a rest. Sometimes now I get a little bit tired just with the multitude of this story but the movement is so fascinating that I don’t stay tired. And the leisurely pace is good too. This must be a good book. It simply must. I haven’t any choice. It must be far and away the best thing I have ever attempted—slow but sure, piling detail on detail until a picture and an experience emerge. Until the whole throbbing thing emerges. And I can do it. I feel very strong to do it. Today for instance into the picture is the evening and the cooking of the rabbits and the discussion of prison and punishment. And the owls and the cat catches a mouse and they sit on the sloping porch [Ed.—Chapter 6]. And tomorrow the beginning of the used car yard if I am finished with this scene. Better make this scene three pages instead of two. Because there can never be too much of background. Well to work on the characters. Friday’s work is done and I think pretty good work.
^*
Tomorrow is Saturday.

 

 

Entry #12
June 11 [1938]—10:30—Saturday

(Optional)

The placing of an optional page on Saturday is to try to maintain a certain writing speed. Then if for any reason I miss a day (and I probably shall), there will be days piled up. Two days a month in fact, to draw on. Two weeks gone now out of 20. 18 weeks to go. I figure about 200,000 words and I have 10,000 words a week as a minimum. Today I will have one spare day in case anything happens. I hope it won’t, but if it does. Today Tommy Joad tells about prison and I don’t know whether the chapter will finish or not. That’s not the problem. Bob and Mary write they want to come down. They can’t. I am well into this now and nothing is going to be allowed to interfere. When I am all done I shall relax but not until then. My life isn’t very long and I must get one good book written before it ends. The others have been make shifts, experiments, practices. For the first time I am working on a real book that is not limited and that will take every bit of experience and thought and feeling that I have. And so to work. The page is done now but not the chapter. This is a very long chapter [Ed.—Chapter 6]. And now I have an afternoon and a day to rest but I won’t rest. I know that anyway tomorrow is Sunday, a no work and no work day number.

 

 

Entry #13
June 13 [1938]—11:40—Monday

Now a new week starts and unpropitiously for me. Last night up to Rays’ and drank a great deal of champagne. * I pulled my punches pretty well but I am not in the dead sober state I could wish. However, I will try to go to work. Don’t have to because I have a day caught up. All sorts of things might happen in the course of this book but I must not be weak. This must be done. The failure of will even for one day has a devastating effect on the whole, far more important than just the loss of time and wordage. The whole physical basis of the novel is discipline of the writer, of his material, of the language. And sadly enough, if any of the discipline is gone, all of it suffers. And this slight fuzziness of mine may be a break in the discipline. I don’t know yet. But right now I intend to find out.