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To Douglass Cather,
July 8, 1916, from Taos, NM on letterhead of the Brown
Palace Hotel, Denver, CO; ; UNL-Southwick
Has returned to Taos with Edith after days in the heat of Denver. Taos
has very mild evenings and only brief periods of heat during the day. Fine horses are
available; Edith is an accomplished rider, and Cather
can get along well enough to handle irregular terrain. Is Douglass still coming north this July? How far? To Albuquerque? If it is possible to see him, would like to,
but otherwise won't travel far, though if Edith is up
to it they might drive near Española
around the Rio Grande pueblos. Edith has to return to
New York by July 25, and her holiday,
though fascinating, has not been relaxing. When she leaves, Cather might travel to Lander, and will get to Red Cloud as some point. Hopes to convince mother to spend some time in Denver with her, since Elsie reports that she isn't in good health. Would like to be
in Red Cloud for several weeks, but won't
do it if no one wants her around. Regrets coming home the previous summer. Her very being
seemed to annoy everyone. Douglass shouldn't think
her too smug, it's just that writers have to promote themselves or forget about it. Doesn't
self-promote near as much as most. Doesn't believe it would do family any good for her to give up, though quitting is tempting
sometimes. Had a difficult winter and wrote very little, just two short stories [possibly "The
Bookkeeper's Wife" and "The
Diamond Mine"], and one of them was really weak. The death of Judge McClung and the marriage of Isabelle were big blows and gave her the
unsettling sense of losing a home. Will survive, but is not too enthusiastic. Maybe going on
trying after losing interest is a sign of character. Doesn't want to dwell on depressing facts,
though. Why can't she and Douglass have fun
together more? Yes, is difficult to be around, but any woman who has made good money in a
business is difficult and she's no different. Nevertheless, the two of them still ought to
enjoy one another's company, as they did in Denver the year before. Likes Douglass
more than nearly everyone else, except when he's grumpy; and when he's grumpy, will just leave
and accept it with detachment. Will, however, relish all positive feelings from her family, all of whom she likes very much, even more so
now than when she was young and tried to change everybody. Still tends to believe in her own
way of thinking first, but now tempers it with the knowledge of past errors. Has mellowed since
last year. Three close friends died [?], and the family's displeasure last summer may have helped too. Is drained of
spirit now--but that's bad for writing. Will probably never write well again. One needs to be
transfixed with the material to write well. Hopes at least to be able to support herself still.
Two stories were rejected recently for being dull, and the editors were right. Please plan on
meeting somewhere—really has gotten more easy going.
Willie
To Roscoe Cather,
July 8, [1916], on letterhead of the Brown Palace Hotel, Denver, Colorado, but written from Taos, New Mexico
; UNL-Roscoe
Received Roscoe's letter just as she and Edith Lewis were starting out from Denver for Taos. Wanted to come to Lander, but
Edith was intent on coming back here, where they had
such a wonderful week last year. Hopes that after two weeks in Taos, she can stop by Lander on the way back east. At some point, will make it to Red Cloud. Hopes Mother, whom Elsie reports as being unwell, can be convinced to spend some
time in Denver. Does long to meet young
West Virginia
[her nickname for Roscoe's oldest daughter, Virginia]. May remain in Nebraska until well into autumn. Felt so overwhelmed by deaths and
marriages of friends this past winter that she only managed to produce two pieces of short
fiction the entire winter and spring. He likely noticed the one in The Century—not of much merit ["The Bookkeeper's Wife,"
The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, 92 (May
1916): 51-59]. McClure's bought
the second one, which is considerably more successful ["The Diamond Mine,"
McClure's Magazine, 47 (October 1916):
7-11; 66-70]. Would like to discuss her conception for a new novel—not
striking in itself. Hasn't had a really striking idea since Sandy Point [a play town Cather constructed out of packing boxes
with her brothers and friends as a child
in Red Cloud, Nebraska]. The
challenge of the new novel, an
especially difficult challenge for a woman writer, is that it must center on a man. Gets a lot
of credit for her male characters, but they are successful only because a woman is always at
the center of the story and the men are seen only through them. Can manage that much quite
well, but is nervous to go beyond that strategy. Nevertheless, a boy and a man must be at the
center of this new book. Wishes she could discuss it with him; he could give her some guidance.
If only he had written a diary on his trip to Yellowstone. The book she has in mind is somewhat
similar. Apologizes for the bad penmanship, but there are five Jewish salesmen in line for the
hotel's one bottle of ink. Is staying at a comfortable hotel run by a dignified Mexican woman
and her French-speaking parrot (her dead husband was a Frenchman). Taos is wonderful, if one is up to crossing forty miles of
canyons to reach it. The population is completely Mexican and there is a lovely Indian pueblo
nearby. Would be wonderful if Roscoe could come along
on these adventures. Life is so unforgiving: remain independent and one feels unanchored; get
bound up and, well, that's it. Isabelle's
new husband is a terrible Jew that nobody likes. It's
a dilemma. Plans to remain less encumbered from now on. Goodbye and hopes to see Roscoe and Meta soon.
Willie.