July 30, 1953
Mr. William Maxwell
The New Yorker
25 West 43rd Street
New York, New York
Dear Mr. Maxwell:
Your two letters on the twenty-third were the nicest thing that has happened to me since I began mailing material away five years ago. Thanks a lot for your interest.
I will, of course, try to send you more light verse. The shortages (time, electricity, inspiration) up here may have made me unusually somber, but I am still convinced that the kindest possible way of earning a living is to be a humorist.
Sincerely,
John Updike
with
“Boy Playing Basketball…”
“City Vista”
“The Summer Reader”
_________________________________________________
213 Iffley Road, Oxford
October 4, 1954
Dear Mr. Maxwell:
I’m pretty embarrassed. In a rather garrulous letter I wrote Mrs. White this morning, I suggested there would be some noise from me concerning the galley proof of my story. But I’ve just read the proof, and the only improvement I can suggest is that “Friends” be spelled correctly in the title. Otherwise, it read slick as a whistle. I’m sure it isn’t the way I wrote it, quite, but there was no pain at all, so it must be the way I had wanted to write it. I can scarcely wait until it appears.
I’m sure it isn’t the way I wrote it, quite, but there was no pain at all, so it must be the way I had wanted to write it.
The first and last sentences gave me momentary pause. But it is a good idea to establish the time, the so-called “odd hour” right off the bat, and I suppose the kid would be aware of the time even though, as he later points out, he has no wristwatch. And the wine at the end sounds grand—not too grand, I hope, for a liquor store. But I’m sure it isn’t: The New Yorker’s care over details like that is legendary. The fastidious substitution of a “red foil cap” for my cork, or whatever, gave me exquisite pleasure.
Read the full article: https://lithub.com/dear-bill-letters-from-a-young-john-updike-to-his-editor-william-maxwell/
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