1 January 1935 – 6 January 1935

The play rather tosh;* but I’m not going to bother about making a good impression as a playwright. And I had a lovely old year’s walk yesterday round the rat farm valley, by a new way and met Mr. Freeth, and talked about road making; and then into Lewes to take the car to Martin’s and then home and read St. Paul and the papers. I must buy the Old Testament. I am reading the Acts of the Apostles. At last I am illuminating that dark spot in my reading. What happened in Rome? And there are seven volumes of Renan. Lytton calls him “mellifluous.” Yeats and Aldous agreed, the other day, that their great aim in writing is to avoid the “literary.” Aldous said how extraordinary the “literary” fetish had been among the Victorians. Yeats said that he wanted only to use the words that real people say. That his change had come through writing plays. And I said, rashly, that all the same his meaning was very difficult. And what is “the literary.” That’s rather an interesting question. Might go into that, if I ever write my critical book. But now I want to write On being despised. My mind will go on pumping up ideas for that. And I must finish Ordinary People: and then there’s Roger and writing despised. Begin Roger in October 1935. Is that possible? Publish O.P. in October; and work at these two during 1936. Lord knows! But I must press a good deal of work in—remembering 53—54—55 are on me. And how excited I get over my ideas! And there’s people to see.