One Man's Bane Is Another's

Some Mechanism In My Sub-consciousness Took The Dominant Characteristics Of Various Prize-fighters, Gunmen, Bootleggers, Oil Field Bullies, Gamblers, And Honest Workmen I Had Come In Contact With, And Combining Them All, Produced The Amalgamation I Call Conan The Cimmerian.

It Seems To Me That Many Writers, By Virtue Of Environments Of Culture, Art And Education, Slip Into Writing Because Of Their Environments.

Over The Souls Of Men Spread The Condor Wings Of Colossal Monsters And All Manner Of Evil Things Prey Upon The Heart And Soul And Body Of Man. Yet It May Be In Some Far Day The Shadows Shall Fade And The Prince Of Darkness Be Chained Forever In His Hell. And Till Then Mankind Can But Stand Up Stoutly To The Monsters In His Own Heart And Without, And With The Aid Of God He May Yet Triumph.

I Had Neither Expert Aid Nor Advice. I Studied No Courses In Writing; Until A Year Or So Ago, I Never Read A Book By Anybody Advising Writers How To Write.

Animals Are Neither Gods Nor Fiends, But Men In Their Way Without The Lust And Greed Of Man.