III.
into juxtaposition. A true artist in the terrible can always invent ideas and plots a thousandfold more effective than any real tragedy or fright which ever darkened the earth, gilding then—or ebonising them—with a subtlety of atmosphere which is after all the most potent single factor in any imaginative tale. Come to think of it, I guess atmosphere and colour mean more any day than idea or plot—this being the reason we have so few effective phantasies in these days when plot and action are played up at the expense of the more leisurely attributes of writing. Of course, atmosphere is the one thing which a skilful developer can give a real-life tragedy. He can colour it to his heart's content, and inject suspicions of more than mortal motives and agencies which bring it close to the effective fictional state. I certainly think your idea is worth trying, though as a lover of fictional art for its own sake I should hate to see the monthly quota of stories descend to the minimum record of two or three, exclusive of the novel. I don't think I really enjoy anything so much as a really good weird story. I would give a thousand dollars not to have read Poe's "House of Usher" or "Ligeia", just for the thrill of following them breathlessly with pristine suspense over what was coming'. I have never seen a copy of "The Terrific Register", and must confess to a perfect ignorance of what it is. If you can connect me with a copy, at my expense, I shall consider myself ever afterward your debtor! By the way, though—just before I forget it—let me say that I think the weakest thing about the present WEIRD TALES is the prevalence of news "fillers", some of which have a very remote connection with actual weirdness. Bald news certainly needs a skilful retouching before it assorts well with the fictional atmosphere. I'd suggest that the new policy of using poetry is very good … and don't think I say this because Mr. Baird has just accepted some verse from me! I wish you could use more verse by my California friend Clark Ashton Smith, who has perpetrated some terrific flights such as "The Hashish-Eater; or, The Apocalypse of Evil." Smith also draws splendidly, and with more encouragement than he received from Houtain, could turn out some sketches much better than his illustrations to my "Lurking Fear". But all this is mere random suggestion, made whilst I think of it.
I am interested in the idea you originally formed from my stuff in HOME BREW—especially interested because I consider that stuff among my poorest. Ordinarily I refuse altogether to write to order, or to give my tales any mechanical limitations to suit other people. But Houtain is a personal friend of mine—he'd have to be, to get me to read his ribald rag—and when he started HOME BREW he was desperately anxious to get me to give him some of my stuff. I offered him his pick of all my MSS., but they didn't look quite flashy and lowbrow enough to suit him; so he began to entreat that I prepare him a series of six tales, each of 2000 words and complete in itself, which should go the limit for sensational morbidity. I might add that my taste does not run especially to the morbid as such, that I love is the unreal and the fantastic in every form; though of course only such of my work as is terrible could ever please a popular audience. Finally I agreed, for friendship's sake, to give Houtain what he wanted, running over a list of possible plots until he took a fancy to the notion of a grave-robbing physician who restored life to bodies and was finally snatched himself by the bodies he had resuscitated, together with certain nameless companions of theirs. This I developed into the series "Herbert West-Reanimator", and I can assure you I was sick of the job before I was half done. The necessity for the completeness of each instalment spoiled the artistry of the whole thing—involving as it did the wearisome recapitulation of former matter in each instalment, and the eternal repetition of the description of Dr. Herbert West and his unamiable pursuits. When I had that out of the way, I vowed I would never again write a tale to order; and succumbed in the case of "The Lurking Fear" only because Houtain permitted me to forego the series form and make it a regular serial. The prospect of Smith's illustrations was another bait—though in the end they proved much
