February 2, 1930

I have written nothing in my journal for a week or more having been much too absorbed in the writing of "The Pike Pole" to think of anything but that. Started and wrote most of the tale out at the cabin [abandoned one he found on Grassy Lake near Ely, Minn.] and during the course of the week ran it through five revisions which is where it rests now. Read it to Elizabeth for the first time Saturday night and although I received the criticism I wanted I was greatly encouraged. At least she admitted that it possessed merit and with some more polishing would pass muster in the better class of magazines. It has given me the same old thrill, the writing of this story. Do not think the time will ever come when I will fail to get a great satisfaction out of it.

My work now is to cut down and eliminate unnecessary material. There are many places now that can be cut down. While reading the book The Author's Art, I was impressed with this unanimity of opinion by all of them, that work in order to be classed as literature must be brief. Try to say in as few words as possible what you have in mind. If one word will take the place of three or four use the one. Brevity is the soul of art. Simplicity is everything. One does not have to use long encumbered words or sentences, because one's appeal is to the mass and that would be unintelligible to most. Do not cut down however when there is danger of losing one's thought. Do not write unless you are full of your subject and feel deeply what you have to say. Know your subject above all and give the impression that you have much more to say than you really put on paper. Give the idea that what you have has been boiled down. Do not have one extra word or sentence than is necessary for your thought. This idea of brevity is important and is one of the evils you must conquer.

Read over a story by Herbert Ravenell Sass this morning, "Wild Mother" in the Ladies Home Journal. It gives me confidence. I could have written that thing with ease. Some day I will get my stuff taken and will add materially to my livelihood enough so that I can devote all of my time to my writing instead of my spare moments. That story is nothing exceptional and could have been compared favorably with my Snow Wings [published by Boys' Life in March 1928]. I know that some day I will sell everything that I write.

Was out to the cabin yesterday. A new snow had fallen and the going was heavy. Went out in the afternoon and read before the fire Burroughs' essay on Science and the Poets. He always is refreshing and I enjoy his essays much. My little cabin was almost covered with snow.

Saw a movie last night Coconuts a mediocre affair. Afterwards went up to see Wilson and Edna. Luther and Dorothy were there so decided to spend the rest of the evening....Stayed up late and as a result feel the weather this morning, gray and sleepy. Social evenings how wasteful they are of time and thought.