Possibly it does not seem
so brilliant in the cold light of morning as it did after that
fourth glass of Bollinger. If this be so, you can then make
another note--say, for a short article on "Disillusionment." One
way or another a notebook and a pencil will keep you well
supplied with material.
If I do not follow Butler's advice myself, it is not because I
get no brilliant inspirations away from my inkpot, nor because,
having had the inspirations, I am capable of retaining them until
I get back to my inkpot again, but simply because I should never
have the notebook and the pencil in the right pockets. But though
I do not imitate him, I can admire his wisdom, even while making
fun of it. Yet I am sure it was unwise of him to take the public
into his confidence. The public prefers to think that an author
does not require these earthly aids to composition. It will never
quite reconcile itself to the fact that an author is following a
profession-- a profession by means of which he pays the rent and
settles the weekly bills. No doubt the public wants its favourite
writers to go on living, but not in the sordid way that its
barrister and banker friends live. It would prefer to feel that
manna dropped on them from Heaven, and that the ravens erected
them a residence; but, having regretfully to reject this theory,
it likes to keep up the pretence that the thousand pounds that an
author received for his last story came as something of a
surprise to him--being, in fact, really more of a coincidence
than a reward.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185