ll of us want to sell more stories and write better ones. It is hard to believe that there exists a writer with soul so dead that he would not. But, from careful observation, I have come to the heart-breaking conclusion that while writers usually want to do this, they generally fail to try.
Writers are the laziest people on earth. And I know Im the laziest writer. In common with the rest of the profession I am always searching for the magic lamp which will shoot my stories genie-like into full bloom without the least effort on my part.
This is pure idiocy on my part as I have long ago found this magic lamp, but not until a couple years ago did I break it out and use the brass polish to discover that it was solid gold.
This lamp was so cobwebby and careworn that I am sure most of us have not looked very long at it in spite of its extreme age and in spite of the fact that it is eternally being called to our attention.
The name of this magic lamp is RESEARCH.
Ah, do I hear a chorus of sighs? Do I hear, Hubbard is going to spring that old gag again. What, another article on research? I thought LRH knew better.
In defense I instantly protest that I am neither the discoverer nor the sole exploiter of research. But I do believe that I have found an entirely new slant upon an ancient object.
In Tacoma a few months ago, I heard a writer sighing that he was having a hell of a time getting plots. This acute writing disease had eaten deeply into his sleep and bankbook. It had made him so alert that he was ruined as a conversationalist, acting, as he did, like an idea sponge. Hanging on and hoping but knowing that no ideas could possibly come his way.
As usual, I injected my thoughts into his plight a habit which is bad and thankless.
I said, Heres an idea. Why not go out and dig around in the old files at the library and the capitol at Olympia and find out everything you can on the subject of branding? There should be a lot of stories there.