We still have 46 Reichsmarks in royalties for you – where would you like them sent?

Best wishes,

Yours

[enormous flourish] Ernst Rowohlt

10 June

Dear Herr Rowohlt,

Thank you for your letter of the 8th.

A love story, . . . but, my dear master, how could I possibly? Love in the present climate? Are you in love? Is anyone in love these days?

I’d rather write a little summer story.

It’s not a straightforward business. You know I don’t like bothering the public with my personal life, so that can be ruled out. Besides, there isn’t a woman I don’t betray with my typewriter, which makes my life thoroughly unromantic. And am I supposed to dream up this story? Only businessmen have any imagination – when they can’t pay their bills. They can be very imaginative. The likes of us . . .

Unless I give people the stuff their fantasies are made of (‘The Countess gathered up the folds of her silver gown, did not so much as look at the Count, and fell headlong down the castle steps’), all that’s left is the problem of marriage as indoor gymnastics, ‘the human angle’ and all that stuff we so despise. And where is it to come from, unless you steal it from Villon?

While we’re on the subject of poetry . . . how is it that in paragraph 9 of our contract you stipulate that 15% of all copies have no royalties payable on them? I know you’d never send out that many review copies! So that’s why your authors are worked to the bone. No wonder you’re drinking champagne on velvet cushions, while we lot sip weak beer on wooden benches. But that’s the way it goes.

I always knew I was a credit to you. But being 46 Marks in credit that really is thrilling news. Please send it to the old address as usual. And by the way, I’m going on holiday next week.

Best wishes,

Yours,

Tucholsky

Ernst Rowohlt Publishers

Berlin W50

Passauer Strasse 8/9

12 June

Dear Herr Tucholsky,

Thank you very much for your letter of the 10th inst.

As for the 15% of copies without royalties, they are – and this is the honest truth – my only way of making any money. My dear Tucholsky, if you could see our accounts, you would know things are not easy for a poor publisher. Without that 15%, I couldn’t exist; I would simply starve. And you wouldn’t want that.

You should think about that summer story idea of yours.

As well as politics and current affairs, people want something they can give to their girlfriends. You can’t imagine how big the demand is. I was thinking of a little novella, not too long, say 20,000 words, tender, paperback, gently ironic, and with a full-colour cover. You can make the contents as candid as you like and as a concession, I might even be prepared to go down to 14% without royalties.