LETTERS: Editorial correspondence.
Letters by a Lesbian Pulp Novelist
King, Louise W. Letters to her editor, 1963-1977.
A collection of 22 letters by lesbian novelist Louise W. King to her editors at Doubleday; 1963-1977. There are 19 letters to Lawrence “Larry” Ashmead (8 ALS, 7 TLS, 3 APS and one Christmas card); 2 letters to Michele Tempesta (1 ALS and 1 APS); and one ALS to “Diane.” Together with an 8”x 10” black and white publicity photograph and a news-clipping.
King’s letters are witty and racy (“Isobel English always sounds like a good name for a refined stripper to me” April 13, 1964, and “Saw Dr. Strangelove, it was v. cute” May 2, 1964); they are infused with humor and were written during the peak of her career. In them, she discusses her books The Day We Were Mostly Butterflies (1963), The Velocipede Handicap (1966), and The Rochemer Hag (1967).
The correspondence begins in 1963, before King’s pulp novel, The Day We Were Mostly Butterflies, was published in London by Michael Joseph Ltd. In her letter, King thanks Doubleday editor, Lawrence Ashmead, for his letter and mentions she is beginning to work on a book, “I am in California at the moment, working laboriously on a novel, the Velocipede Handicap. The first draft looks like a lead balloon, but may improve” (May 14, 1963). King explains that publisher Michael Joseph was bringing out her first book, The Day We Were Mostly Butterflies, in October. The book contained, “four long episodes involving Moppet…. It includes the uncut version of the Love Goddess, which to me is more satisfactory than the one in Transatlantic. I know Josephs (sic) wanted to contact an American publisher about the book” (ibid.). Doubleday published Butterflies in 1964.
In another early letter, King writes to Ashmead, updating him on her progress of a novel, presumably The Velocipede Handicap, “The novel is within a whisker of being finished and it will be ready at the end of the month providing sneezes don’t interfere with typing” (February 6, 1964). The Velocipede Handicap was published by Michael Joseph and Curtis in 1965, and Doubleday in 1966. King goes on to say that she was reading Tristram Shandy “for the dozenth time” and remarks,
Pity they don’t still publish novels in five thousand installments. How would Doubleday like to undertake a long novel to be published in ten tiny, sleazy volumes? It’s about drag racing and will be called ‘It Was a Mistake To Chrome-plate The Dashboard’. Except for the research involved, it would probably be done before The Deaf and Dumb Callgirl. (ibid.)
It Was a Mistake To Chrome-plate The Dashboard and The Deaf and Dumb Callgirl were never published.
Later that spring, King writes to express her disappointment with Doubleday over The Velocipede Handicap; in spite of her frustration she is still very funny:
Just grrrrrr re. the contract for V.H. In fact I’m puffing with rage. Have you pointed out to your mush-witted colleagues that if I don’t have the pittance that they would have given to insure their possession of that sure-fire, laugh-loaded dud, I may very well be found dead in London with the remains of a stale crumpet in my wasted hand.
I’m sorry to hear your cat was castrated.
Will he get over it?
Could you send me the manuscript air mail and insured for millions to me? (April 18, 1964)
That summer, King comments on Doubleday’s jacket design for Butterflies:
I hate to be fussy, but I don’t honestly care much for all the extra blue butterflies on the jacket of the book. They lack class. Another thing that lacks class is the depth of color on the pansy and two butterflies. However I am very impressed by the quotes on the back…did people really say such interesting things? How professional it looks, how truly artistic. (August 1, 1964)
After the Doubleday edition of Butterflies was published, King sent a series of “anxious questions” regarding the book to Ashmead:
Do you mean to say that Butterflies has actually so
Print Inquire
