It was good to get your letter. I would have written you, only you said in your wire you were writing, so I waited to learn all the details of your good news. And it sure is good news! But, as I wired you, I was by no means astonished, or anything like that, that you had done so nobly, for your somber premonitions had not impressed me as being liable to coincide with the facts when they appeared. I know such dreary forebodings too damned well. They are the familiar spirits of this branch of the O'Neills -- one of the baneful heritages you get from me, I'm afraid. I've been enjoying more than my usual share of them lately, too, what with this Cycle of plays stretching out into a future of seemingly endless hard labor. It looks now as if there would have to be still another play -- a ninth which will carry me back to 1770 as a starter.

June 20th 1936

What you write about the exams is damned interesting and I am glad you told me so much about the oral. Of course, I knew there was one, but had no idea it was such a formidable inquisition. I can imagine how you felt when you paced the hall waiting for the verdict!

Dear Eugene,

Speaking of money, you know, I hope that if ever you get in a tough spot I can always manage to come across with something, although, as you may guess, the next couple of years will be lean ones unless that rarity for me, a movie rights purchase, comes up. I want to tell you frankly what my exact situation is. Whatever income I have from investments is more than abolished by the alimony dole. That means that as far as my half of Carlotta's and my household expenses, etc. is concerned I am living on capital and will be for the next two years or more, for I do not expect to be able to release any new play for production or publication before then. Royalties on books bring in something but comparatively little. Stock, amateur performances' royalties don't amount to much because my plays are difficult to cast and seldom attempted. Foreign productions continue to be flatteringly constant -- but are done in repertoire for a few performances at a time, and with half to a translator, tax, etc. the return to me in dollars is negligible, or less. I had hoped something from the London production of Ah, Wilderness! by the Irish Group Theatre, but in spite of a unanimously enthusiastic critical reception, no one is going to see it and it has possibly closed by this.

As for the job, from what you tell me, that assuredly is a grand bit of good fortune! And the salary is more than I ever thought you would get to start with.

So that's about the situation -- and it is due to grow steadily worse instead of better, pending the appearance of my new work. I tell you all this not to cry poor, you understand, but to present the hard facts.

I am determined, if I go broke in the process, not to release any play of the Cycle until I have at least three or four in final form, and more in first draft. This is essential to me because the emphasis with me is naturally on the work as a whole, not on its separate parts. It is also essential for the stage production of the work as a whole that the Guild have several plays to plan on as a starter -- for they intend to get together a special repertoire company just to do this Cycle, and when it comes to tying up actors and actresses for three or four years, in these days of Talkie temptation, you've got to show them parts in several plays that make it to their advantage to sign up. You can't do it on one or two plays with a vague promise of good parts in plays not yet written, no matter who the author. The plan, as I guess I've told you before, is to do two plays a season.

But enough of that.

So you see how this Cycle has me involved in a hell of a lot of labor -- and costly time -- before I can expect any returns of any kind. You will also appreciate that I have many low days of O'Neill heebie-jeebies when I feel very old and tired, and doubt myself and my work, and wonder why in hell something in me drove me on to undertake such a hellish job when I might have coasted along and just written some more plays, as a well-behaved playwright does.

I foresaw that you would probably get some tart retorts from the Middle West on your article. Midwesterners are very sensitive people -- that is, in one respect.

Father

Love to you and Betty from us -- and a sweet kiss from Blemie to Cabot.