243 Riverside Drive
New York City      
March 25, 1940     

      . . . Everybody in New York seemed to be blue yesterday. Every phone call I got was deep indigo–Jack Burr, Willy Ley, John Campbell. And so I guess it was just a sweep of the town from leaden skies and drizzling, chilly rain.

      I am now going to try to do a short called THE ALKAHEST. It is a very short story and may or may not go over but I want to warm up for a couple novelettes, one for Florence, one for WILD WEST WEEKLY, one for John and then maybe a novel for John. I am finding that I can’t drill along as steadily as I thought I could and so now I have to put in several consecutive days’ work come what may in order to cancel out the last few days of staring into the fog. . . .

      By the end of the week I hope to have put twenty-five thousand over the mill. . . . 


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