PART FIVE

AUTHOR, PUBLISHER, AND PUBLIC

Everything resolves itself down, in the publisher's mind, to the one simple question: "Is this MS. what the public wants?"

When Offering Goods for Sale

Supposing--that when you go into the fishmonger's, he offers you a cod that is slightly "off"; and, while apologising for its feebleness, begs you to take it, as he has an invalid daughter suffering from spinal complaint, who needs a change at the seaside.

Or--that the assistant in the men's hosiery shop begs you to take half a dozen extra neckties, as he is anxious to buy the baby a much-needed pram, and his salary depends primarily on his commissions.

Or--that the sewing-machine agent, when sending around circulars, adds a devout hope, as a P.S., that you will purchase a machine, since he is anxious to increase his subscription to foreign missions.

Or--that the incompetent dressmaker beseeches you to take a garment that would fit nobody and suit nobody, because she has a widowed mother to support.

"Preposterous!" you say. "Such things would never occur."

And yet this is precisely what is happening every day of the year in the literary business!

Here are some sentences from letters accompanying MSS. sent to my office the week I am writing this.

"I should esteem it a great kindness if you could stretch a point in favour of my story, even though it may not be quite up to your standard (and I can see, on re-reading, that it has defects); but I am anxious to make some money in order to take a friend in whom I am deeply interested to the seaside for a much-needed change. She is an invalid, and----" here follow copious details about the friend.

Another writes: "I must ask you to give this every consideration, as I devote all the money I make by my writings to charity."

A third says frankly, "you really _must_ accept this story, as I need money badly."

And for a truly nauseating letter, I think the following is as objectionable as any I have received in this connection:

"My dear wife has recently passed away, after years of acute and protracted suffering. My heart was rent with sympathy for her while she lived, and now the blank caused by her death is almost intolerable. How I shall face life without her I do not know; for she was indeed a help-meet in every sense of the word, In order to divert my mind from this well-nigh insurmountable sorrow, I have written a story 'The Forged Cheque,' which I feel is just the thing for your magazine. I ask you to regard it leniently, remembering that it is written with a breaking heart," etc.

[Sidenote: The Problem of Youth]

Then there are other reasons advanced why the editor should accept a MS., the youthfulness or the inexperience of the author being frequently mentioned.

While it is no crime to be young, it is no particular advantage when one is seeking to place a story. Inexperience, on the other hand, might be regarded as a distinct drawback.

But in any case, the editor does not purchase MSS. merely because they are the writers' first attempts. However good they may be for first attempts, or however promising they may be considering the age of the writer, all that has practically nothing to do with the editor's decision, unless he is running any pages in his periodical for the exploitation of immature work or juvenile effort. And in these days of high-priced paper and expensive production, very few papers do this.

[Sidenote: The way Phil May made his Sketches]

It is hard to make the amateur understand that a magazine is first and foremost a business proposition, as much as a shop or a factory. The editor must make it pay; and in order to do this, he must publish the type of matter that his readers are willing to purchase. Each magazine appeals to a definite section of the public (or it should do so, if it is to be a success). No one magazine appeals to every human being. Some want sensation, some want art, some want fashions, and so on. And as it is impossible to include everything in any one publication, each editor aims to please a certain class of tastes--good, bad or indifferent, according to the policy of his paper. And he knows to a fraction almost, what will suit his public, and what they will not care about.

How does he know?

It is part of his mental and business equipment: the knowledge often costs him years of study and observation; and it is one of the qualifications for which he is paid his salary.

And because he knows what his public will buy, and what they do not want, he purchases MSS. accordingly. It is immaterial to him whether the writer needs money for charity, or to support an aged relative, or merely to soothe a bereaved soul: the only question he considers is whether the public will want a certain MS. or not. He is not engaged by the proprietors to aid charity, or to minister to the necessitous; his work is to provide goods that the public will buy--just like any other business man. And he is unmoved, therefore, by irrelevant appeals.

Of course he has other matters to look to as well as the providing of goods the public will buy; he helps to shape public opinion, for instance, and raises, or lowers, the public taste. But so far as the amateur is concerned, the point to remember is the fact that an editor is in no way influenced by the writer's need for pecuniary assistance. If he were, his post-bag would be a hundred times heavier than it is already, and it is quite heavy enough as it is!

[Sidenote: A Publisher is not an Agent for Philanthropy]

In the same way, only more so, a publisher is concerned with the selling qualities of a MS. rather than with the writer's private affairs. He is running a business concern with a view to some margin of profit. Presumably he has a wife and family to support, rent, rates and taxes to meet (in addition to helping to pay for the war)--like any other man. And he spends his days in the dim, fusty airlessness of a publisher's office for the purpose of making a living out of the books he publishes. Therefore, he is not likely to be inclined to bring out a book, which his business experience tells him the public will never buy, merely because (as one sender of a MS. recently put it) "the moral of my essays is really beautiful, and it will do people good to read them, if even they do not bring in profit. Read them yourself and you will see that I am not exaggerating."

Possibly the moral of a MS. is quite good: but it may not be the particular brand of goodness that the public is willing to purchase at the moment; and the publisher knows it is hopeless to put it on the market in that case.

Equally it is useless to expect him to be influenced favourably simply because your earnings are ear-marked for charity. At the end of the year, should he see that the money he paid for a certain item was a dead loss, it would be no consolation to him to remember that the author had devoted the cash to a "Seaside Holiday Home for Men on Strike" in which she was interested.

Therefore spare him all such data. The less you add to what he has to read daily, the better. An accompanying letter is really unnecessary--only it is useful to affix the stamps to, for the return of the MS. if rejected.

Profuse explanations are all beside the mark, and give an amateurish, unbusiness-like look to a communication. Whatever you may write about yourself on your MS., in praise thereof, or in extenuation, everything resolves itself down--in the publisher's mind--to the one simple question: Is this what the public wants?

[Sidenote: We think we can Judge the Value of our Work better than a Publisher can]

Many a beginner is convinced his MS. would sell, if only it were printed. It is natural that we have a certain amount of belief in our own work, more especially if we have given much time and thought to it. Moreover, _we_ possibly see points in it that no one else can; _we_ see what a we meant to put down, without in any way realising how far our actual writing falls short of the ideas that were in our brain. The outcome of this partiality for our own writing, is a certainty that people are not able to do us justice if they do not think as highly of it as we do.

But the publisher is better able to judge of the selling possibilities of a work than the author; it is his business; he is at it all day long. He has no personal feelings involved, his main concern being to make a book a profitable concern; and his experience teaches him pretty accurately what the public will buy and what it will leave on his hands. He may occasionally make a mistake (though it is surprising how seldom an expert publisher does make a wrong estimate, considering how various are the MSS. that pass through his office); but when he does, he more often errs on the side of being over-sanguine, and giving the author the benefit of the doubt, than in the direction of turning down anything that might have made his, and the author's, fortune.

[Sidenote: A Consoling Thought--no doubt]

Some writers are convinced that the style of their MS. was too good for the editor who rejected it, and altogether above his intelligence. This is a consoling thought, no doubt; but unfortunately it does not take one any further.

I know that instances are occasionally quoted (always the same instances, by the way), where books that ultimately achieved some success were declined by several publishers before they were finally landed. But in some of these cases the books in question were so very much off the beaten track as to be verging on freakishness--and no one living can guarantee a forecast of how the public will receive a freak! Here and there one finds a publisher who enjoys a gamble, and will risk a little on such uncertainties; (sometimes he gets his reward, more often he doesn't); but the majority prefer a safer, even though less exciting, course!

One other matter may have contributed to the refusals these MSS. met with--possibly they were offered to publishers who did not handle that particular type of work. Publishers usually specialise in fixed directions, just as magazine editors do. No one attempts to cover the whole range of reading; a glance at any publisher's catalogue will show this. A MS. turned down by one, as being useless to the section of the public in which he is interested, may be taken by another, who reaches a totally different class of reader.

Therefore do not despair, if your story does not get accepted the first time of asking. There may be a variety of reasons why that particular publisher or editor did not want that particular MS.

But in any case, don't sit down at the first rebuff and say, "What's the good of anything? A genius has no chance nowadays any more than poor Chatterton had!" (By the way, I have heard several desperate, would-be authors mention Chatterton and liken their own predicament to his, but not one has ever chanced to be able to quote me a line of his work!) There is no need to feel that the bottom has dropped out of the universe, because your MS. has been returned. Try elsewhere.

If it is declined by five or six different publishers, then you may safely conclude that it is not the kind of work the public will buy at the moment; or it may be that your writing is not sufficiently mature. In that case, put that MS. aside, and tackle another, something quite fresh. I never think it is worth while to try and re-write or re-construct the rejected MS.--at any rate, not till you are tolerably advanced. It really takes no more time to write something entirely new.

"If only I could get an introduction to an editor, I am sure I could get my work taken." One often hears this said. Yet there never was a greater delusion than this idea that introductions work the oracle. It would be a different matter if an editor, or publisher, had a surfeit of good work, and really did not know what to discard: in such circumstances (which won't occur this side of the millennium!) an introduction might help to secure attention for an individual writer.

But as it is, the editor is only too anxious to purchase good work when it comes his way; he does not wait for any introduction. If a MS. strays into his office that possesses the qualities he is looking for, he writes the author forthwith, his one desire being to purchase the MS.

Still, if you really feel you must be armed with some such document, it is as well to be quite sure that the introduction is a desirable one. Here are two letters that reached me by the same post.

The first was from Miss Blank, a stranger, who said--

"My friend Mr. Dash, who thinks _very_ highly of my work, has _urged_ me to let you see some of it, as he thinks it is just the sort of thing you will be glad to have for your magazine. He is writing a letter of introduction. I shall be glad if you will name a time for a personal interview, as I can better explain"--etc.

The second was from Mr. Dash, an acquaintance of long standing, who said--

"There is a certain Miss Blank who is anxious I should write her a letter of introduction to yourself--which I do herewith. I know nothing whatever about her, save that she seems to be a first-class nuisance. I have never seen her, haven't a ghost of a notion if she can write: probably she can't. But she happens to be the sister of the fiance of the daughter of my mother-in-law's dearest and oldest friend; and any man who values the peace and happiness of his home endeavours to propitiate his mother-in-law, especially when she has mentioned the matter six times already. Therefore I trust this introduction is in order."

[Sidenote: Personal Interviews are seldom desirable as a Preliminary]

The desirability of a personal interview with an editor is another delusion to which the amateur clings. As a rule nothing is gained (but a good deal of time is lost) by talking a contribution over before the preliminary MS. is read. After all, the MS. is the item by which the author stands or falls. If it is good, and what the editor wants, he will take it--and take it only too gladly; if it is not good, or not what he wants, no amount of preliminary conversation will secure its acceptance; for no matter how delightful the conversation may have been, he does not print that; it is the MS. itself that decides the crucial question of publication or no publication.

In some cases a preliminary letter is desirable: it may be advisable to ascertain beforehand whether an editor is open to consider an article on a doubtful subject. But if you wish to avoid inducing a sense of irritation in his soul, do not ask for a personal interview, since in all probability, if he is as rushed as most editors are nowadays, he will turn down the matter forthwith, rather than spend time on talk that may lead nowhere.

It must always be borne in mind that these are overworked, understaffed, hustling times in a very complex age; and the newspaper and magazine office feels this more keenly than any other branch of the business world, simply because periodicals must reflect the spirit of their day and generation, and keep the readers in touch with all that is going on,--and "all" is a large, and constantly changing, order at present. This means that the editorial offices are always more or less in a state of tension; there is no time to spare for interviews that may prove fruitless; the day is seldom long enough to get in all that is certain to be profitable to the paper.

Therefore, say what you have to say by letter--and say it clearly and briefly. The editor forms his judgment by what you say, and if he wants to talk the matter over with you, he will soon let you know.

"But I always feel I can explain myself so much better in a conversation--no matter how brief--than in a letter." This is a frequent plea.

The public, however, will judge you by what you write, not by what you say; if you cannot express yourself well in writing, you may speak with the tongues of men and of angels yet it will avail you nothing where the publication of your MS. is concerned. If you cannot write about it so that the editor can understand, the public are not likely to be able to comprehend it any better.

Women are particularly prone to ask for an interview, and this because they instinctively rely to some extent on the appeal of their personality in most of their business transactions. By far the wiser course, however, is for a woman to express herself so well in her writing that the office simply tumbles over itself in its anxiety to make her personal acquaintance. And I have known this to happen on more than one occasion.

[Sidenote: The Irrepressible Caller]

Nevertheless, men can also distinguish themselves when making calls. The card of a stranger, bearing a Nebraska address, was brought to me one afternoon. He urged that his business was of great importance. Finally I saw him. He was a most intelligent-looking American, and, like the majority of his countrymen, was not long in coming to the point. He said he had written some poems, and promptly placed before me a sheaf of MS. I told him I would look at them if he would leave them.

"Just you run your eye down these," he said. I protested that I could not possibly do his work justice if I skimmed it in any such manner. Then he explained that these were not poems--the masterpieces would come later--these were press notices of some poems he had had printed in a Nebraska paper. I read a few; I had never even heard of the majority of the papers that reviewed his work; but he seemed to take himself very seriously, one had not the heart to shatter his illusions.

Then he produced the bales of poems. He watched me so eagerly I was obliged to read some. I besought him to leave the rest with me, as I could not decide so important a matter hurriedly.

"Oh, but just read this one," he persisted. "Mr. Blank of our city--never heard of him? You _do_ surprise me!--he says he considers it as fine as anything your Percy B. Shelley ever wrote." In a moment of abject weakness I said the poem was fair. Then the heart of that man warmed towards me; he told me of his hopes, his plans and his aspirations, and I tried to sympathise with them. I could not do less, since I owe America much for kindness and hospitality it has shown me on many occasions.

When at last he rose, reluctantly (he had stayed an hour and a quarter), I offered him my hand. He took it with a hearty grip.

"Well, I'm real glad to have known you," he said. "It's been a genuine pleasure to have this talk with you, for you are, without exception, the most informed and intellectual person I've met since I've been in your country." I felt immediately remorseful that I had grudged him the little chat; he was evidently a discerning young man.

"The pleasure has been mine," I assured him, and inquired how long he had been in England? "I landed at Southampton at ten o'clock this morning," was the response. I smilingly tried to disguise the sudden lapse of my enthusiasm. I must have succeeded, for he next said:

"And now I guess I'll go down and fetch up my wife. She's been waiting in the street outside while I came up to see what you were like. I size it she'll just enjoy making a little visit with you."

[Sidenote: MSS. cannot always be Read as Soon as they are Received]

It is only natural that an author should be keen to know the verdict on his work, once he has sent it out to try its fortune. But it is useless to get impatient because no news of it is forthcoming next day. Sometimes weeks elapse, sometimes months, before a MS. can be read. But since the publisher makes no charge for reading a MS. (and the reading costs money: some one's time has to be paid for, and it is some one who draws a fair salary, too), he must be allowed to do it at his own convenience. If he has not asked you to send a MS., you cannot exactly dictate how soon it should be read.

Naturally, it is read as quickly as possible; this is to every one's interest; but this does not mean that it can be read the next day, or even the next week. Other authors may have preceded you.

The amateur who sends letters of inquiry before one has scarcely had time to open the envelope, is doomed to have his work rejected. No office has time to write and explain that "the matter will be considered in due course," etc., so the MS. is merely returned.

It seems impossible to make the average beginner understand that his is not the only story offered, and that things have to take their turn.

Moreover, it is as difficult to please everybody as it was for the old man with the donkey in the fable. If MSS. are not returned immediately, the editor is bombarded with complaints from one set of aggrieved authors; if he is able to read them at once, and he returns them quickly, he is the recipient of uncharitable letters accusing him of having discarded the MSS. unread.

There is an interesting story of a suspicious lady who prided herself on laying traps for the negligent editor--pages put in the wrong order, others upside down, and suchlike devices with which every magazine office is familiar. At last she succeeded in proving that the monster who sat at the receipt of MSS. in one particular publishing house was a consummate rascal.

"SIR," she wrote, "I have long suspected that you basely deceive the public into believing that you read their works, while in reality you return them unread. But at last I have caught you hot-handed in the very act. It will doubtless interest you to know that I purposely gummed together pages 96 and 97, very slightly, in the top right-hand corner. Had you fulfilled your duty and done the work for which your employer pays you a salary, you would have discovered this and detached the pages in question."

The editor replied:

"DEAR MADAM,--If you will take a sharp pen-knife, and remove the fragment of gum between pages 96 and 97, in the top right-hand corner, it may interest you to discover my initials underneath."

"Should all MSS. be typed?" is a question often asked.

[Sidenote: If you wish your MS. to be Read: make the Reading Easy]

It is advisable to have them typed if possible, as this enables them to be read more quickly than if sent untyped. Remember that your object in sending a MS. to a publisher, or editor, is to get it read: therefore it is policy to do all in your power to facilitate the reading.

Owing to the widespread interest in literature, and the universal desire to see oneself in print, the number of MSS. that reach the office of any general periodical of good standing, is immense; and the eye-strain entailed in reading is very great. It has therefore become necessary to ask for MSS. to be typed when possible; though anything that was clearly written, in a bold readable hand, would never be turned down because it was not typed. What is desired is that a MS. shall be legible, so that it can be read with the least amount of detriment to the eyesight. Whereas some of the untyped work that is sent is a positive insult. I have seen tiny, niggling writing, crossed out and re-crossed out, till even the compositor (who is a perfect genius for reading the utterly illegible) could scarcely have made it out. And in all probability, such a MS. would be not over-clean, and would be _rolled_ to go through the post.

[Sidenote: Why Editors do not Criticise]

"If you are unable to make use of my MS., I shall be glad if you will kindly criticise it, and tell me exactly what you think of it."

This request is frequently made by senders of MS. And when they receive back their work without any comment they will write and say, "At least you might have sent one word by way of criticism. If you had only written 'good' or 'bad,' I should have some idea why you declined it."

I sympathise heartily with those who want advice; I know how very difficult it is to get any guidance or criticism that can be relied upon to be disinterested. Nevertheless, I wish the student could see the number of queries, and the amount of work, and the heap of MSS. that arrive at the office of any prosperous periodical; he would then begin to realise how utterly impossible it would be for MSS. to be criticised in writing. It would entail an extra staff, and an expensive staff at that, since such criticism is not work, like card indexing, that can be relegated to a junior clerk. Indeed, the sender of the MS. would probably be highly indignant if any one but the editor did this work!

When I explain to beginners that we have no time to write criticisms on rejected work they say, "But it wouldn't take a _minute_ to write down a few words, seeing that the MS. has already been read."

Unfortunately, it would take a great many minutes. In any case it takes some time (if only a little) to sum up concisely the merits and defects of anything. More than that, experience has proved again and again that one little word of criticism will lead to more letters from the writer. And one has not time to read them! The children of our brain are very dear to us; and so sure as any one passes an adverse criticism on them, our feathers stand on end, and we prepare to defend our one little chick like the most devoted hen that ever lived.

Neither is it wise, I have found, to suggest a little alteration with a promise of publication attached. Two years ago I wrote to some one who had only had one short story published, indicating a new ending that would have improved her MS. immensely, and made it possible for me to take it.

"My temperament requires that it shall end as I have written it. Kindly return my MS. if you cannot use it," replied the lady loftily.

I did so.

Last week the same MS. came back to me--much aged and the worse for wear--with a note that the author did not mind if I altered the ending as I had suggested. But two years is two years. And in the interval, while the MS. was travelling round to every other office, the subject-matter had got out of date.

It is never politic to be touchy if by chance some misguided editor does offer a word of criticism!

If you want your work published, and there is no loss of principle involved, conform to the publisher's requirements as gracefully as you can, even though, in your heart of hearts, you consider him woefully lacking in discernment.

And you can comfort yourself, meanwhile, with the thought that when you are safely ensconced upon Olympian heights, you will even things up a little, and get back all of your own. I know one proprietress of several rejected MSS. who vows that whenever she "gets there," she will sit on the topmost pinnacle, and make all publishers and editors (including myself) walk up to her on their knees, dropping curtsies all the way!

[Sidenote: A Popular Delusion]

I was making for my office one day when a sportive-looking girl stopped me on the stairs. "Just give this story to the editor will you, please?" she began. "Give it right into her hands, won't you; don't let any underling get hold of it."

I agreed.

"And--I say--just tell her from me that she's to read it _herself_, every word of it; I won't be put off with some assistant tossing it aside half read. I know their tricks."

One very popular delusion is that there is a conspiracy among the assistants in an office to keep MSS., and especially good MSS., from the eye of the chief! People will resort to all sorts of devices with the idea of ensuring MSS. reaching the editor's own hands. They are marked "personal," and "strictly private," or "please forward, if away"; and I had one endorsed, "Not to be opened by any one but the Editor."

Yet what is gained by all this, save a definite amount of delay? In any well-organised office, work has to follow a certain routine; MSS. have to be entered up by clerks as received, the stamps sent for return postage have to be checked and duly noted by the proper department, etc. Why delay the handling of the MS. for a few weeks by having it so addressed that it may follow the editor to the North Pole, and back, before it is opened, if the endorsements were obeyed?--which of course they are not.

Let a MS. take its proper course. No one in the office desires to suppress genius; on the contrary, great indeed is the elation of any member of the staff who discovers something worth publishing. It is one great object of our business lives.

[Sidenote: A Little Tact and how much it is!]

If you feel you must call at an office in person, remember that the display of a little tact is a desirable accomplishment. When seeking a post on his paper do not start by telling the editor that his magazine is poor stuff, and will soon be on the rocks,--as I once heard a lady tell the editor of one of the most famous monthlies in existence. When he inquired as to her experience, it transpired that she had had one story--and one only--printed, and it had appeared in a child's magazine.

And it was another tactful caller who said, on leaving, after having absorbed five and twenty minutes of a busy assistant's time: "Well, perhaps you'll explain these suggestions of mine to the editor; though it would have been so much more satisfactory if I could have talked to some properly qualified individual."

Occasionally, however, a caller contributes something to the gaiety of nations, as in the case of the lady who came to inquire after the welfare of a MS. she had left with some one in our building only the day before. (And, incidentally, she wanted to alter a word in it, as she had thought of one she liked better).

I was passing through the Inquiry Office as she entered, and she straightway explained to me her mission.

"I will find out who took it," I said, "I do not think you left it with me."

"Oh no! it wasn't you," she replied emphatically. "I left it with quite a nice-looking person!"

The Responsibility

The responsibility attached to the business of writing is greater than in any other department of work. The influence of the printed page is so far reaching, that no writer can gauge to what extent he may be furthering good (or harm), when he puts pen to paper.

You can calculate exactly an author's cash value by his sales: but this does not give an equally accurate estimate of his moral value.

Who would dream of measuring the influence of _Punch_, for instance, by the figures of its circulation? No one can say how many people will handle one single copy, or how many people will find in that single copy bracing laughter and healthy humour. The numbers printed each week can only represent a fraction of its actual readers.

And the same applies to a good many books: they pass from one to another, are borrowed from libraries, borrowed from friends (often without being returned, alas!), and by varied routes they penetrate to out-of-the-way corners of the world where the authors would least expect to be able to reach the inhabitants.

The most famous preacher living has not the possibilities of power that lie in the hands of a popular writer; and the gravity of this responsibility cannot be over-estimated.

While this does not mean that we must take ourselves too seriously, it does mean that we must take our work seriously, and recognise that it stands for something more than money-making, even though money-making is not to be despised.

To the beginner this may seem a weighty subject and rather outside his orbit. But in reality this point needs to be taken into consideration from the very earliest of our literary experiments. We must induce a certain attitude of mind, and keep definite ideals before us, if our work is to shape in any particular direction.

And the probability is that you will have to choose between good and ill when selecting the theme for your first story. You will naturally look around and study the type of fiction that seems to be selling well, and perhaps you may light on something peculiarly noxious, since there is an assortment of such books being published nowadays. The book in question may have been designated "strong" (the word reviewers often fall back upon, when they cannot find any adjective sufficiently truthful without being libellous, to convey an idea of a book's malodorous qualities!); or you may have heard the book lauded by people who make a boast of being modern, up-to-date, or advanced. And as we none of us aim at being weak, or old-fashioned, or behind the times, it is not surprising if the beginner feels that he, too, had better try his hand at something "strong," if he is to get a reputation for ultra-modernity.

Quite a number of novices choose unpleasant topics because, and only because, they fancy such themes show advanced, untrammelled thought, and "a knowledge of the world." They forget that of far greater importance than the extent of the writer's ability to defy the conventions, is the moral effect of a book on those who read it.

[Sidenote: Wider Views are Needed when Characterising Literature]

I use the word "moral" in its widest sense. It is unfortunate that we have got into the habit of pigeon-holing literature--and especially fiction--in very narrow compartments. When we speak of a book as "good," or "helpful," or "uplifting," we usually mean that it contains specific religious teaching in one form or another. Yet a book may be very good and helpful and uplifting without a single sermonic sentence, or anything approaching thereunto.

In the same way, when we say that a novel is undesirable or immoral, we generally mean that it deals with one particular form of evil: yet there are books having little or nothing to do with promiscuous sex relationships that are pernicious and unhealthy in the extreme, and possibly all the more dangerous because their immorality is not of the kind that is definitely ticketed for all to see, and beware of, if need be.

Everything tending to lower the tone of the soul is immoral; everything that debases human taste is unhealthy; everything that gloats on unpleasantness, for the mere pleasure of gloating, is as devastating as poison gas; everything that preaches a doctrine of hopelessness, that spreads the black miasma of spiritual doubt over the mind is bad--fiendishly bad.

But do not misunderstand me: I would not seem to imply that only fair things should be chronicled. There are certain facts of life that must be faced: sin cannot be ignored--but it must be recognised as sin, not be touched up with tinsel, and placed in the limelight, to look as attractive as possible.

Poverty, grime, sickness, gloom cannot be banished from every horizon; but they need not be dwelt upon exclusively without any alleviation, to the shutting out of all else. The wave of so-called "realism" that has swept over fiction of recent years has been a very injurious element in modern literature. It is bad from an artistic point of view, since it is one-sided, unbalanced, and not true to life itself, which invariably provides that compensations go hand in hand with drawbacks.

Some people speak of "realism" as though the only realities were sordidness and crime; whereas the earth teems with lovely realities--beauty of spirit, beauty of character, beauty of thought, no less than beauty of form and colour.

The slum at first glance does not look a pre-possessing subject; yet read "Angel Court": the writer who is a real artist can find gold even here!

ANGEL-COURT

By AUSTIN DOBSON

In Angel-Court the sunless air Grows faint and sick; to left and right The cowering houses shrink from sight Huddled and hopeless, eyeless, bare. Misnamed, you say? for surely rare Must be the angel-shapes that light In Angel-Court!

Nay! the Eternities are there. Death at the doorway stands to smite; Life in its garrets leaps to light; And Love has climbed that crumbling stair In Angel-Court.

_From "London Lyrics," by permission._

Those who acclaimed these recent books of so-called "realism" as works of exceptional genius, did not see that, far from being any such thing, they were, in most cases, preliminary manifestations of a hideous malady, which has since culminated in all we understand by the word Bolshevism.

To dilate on ugliness, coarseness, harshness, without showing the counteracting forces at work, and to dabble continuously in dirt without showing the way to cleanliness, is not art, no matter how accurately every detail may be portrayed: it is merely systematised brutishness.

Even themes with a rightful motive may be exceedingly harmful under some circumstances. Studies of dipsomaniacs, drug-victims, and the like, may be necessary as matters of psychological or medical research, just as studies of any other diseases are necessary; but they should be issued as such, and not put forward in the guise of fiction intended for all and sundry among the general public.

I have enlarged on this matter, because there has been a great tendency on the part of amateurs lately to revel in descriptions of crudity and repulsiveness, with never a thought as to the effect of such literature on the reader. At no time is it desirable to circulate indiscriminately, much less as fiction, reading matter that can only induce morbidity, neuroticism, depravity, doubt, or depression. But in an age like the present, when most of the civilised world is bowed beneath an overwhelming weight of sorrow, shattered nerves and physical weakness, it is positively criminal to manufacture pessimism, gloom and horrors, and scatter this type of literature broadcast without any sense of the appalling responsibility attaching thereunto.

[Sidenote: Qualities which cannot be Dispensed With]

There are three qualities which all authors should aim to incorporate in their writings if they are to be a blessing rather than a curse to humanity: these are cleanness, healthiness and righteousness. They may be introduced in many and various forms; and are often to be found in wholesome laughter, spontaneous gaiety, good cheer, breathless adventure, revelations of beauty, as well as in direct appeals to the higher nature. Anything that will arouse sane emotions, and divert the mind from self, is to be welcomed as a benefaction in this world of many sorrows.

The late Charles Heber Clarke--better known to the public as "Max Adeler"--enjoyed great popularity at one time as a humorist. He was a man of strong religious convictions; and there came a day when he ceased to write his humorous pleasantries, seeming inclined to regard them as so much wasted opportunity. On one occasion however, a clergyman whom he met while travelling, on discovering his identity, grasped his hand and said, "You have made me laugh when there seemed nothing left to laugh about; you have helped me to get over some of my darkest days. I owe you more than I owe any other man in the world."

"And when he had finished pouring out his gratitude," said "Max Adeler," (who told me this himself), "I began to wonder whether, after all, one might not be doing as much good in the world by making people smile and forget their troubles, as by preaching at them."

To help humanity God-ward is the greatest privilege we can aspire to; but this can be done by other means besides the writing of hymns and commentaries. Everything that tends to lift humanity from the low-lands of sorrow or sordidness or suffering, and to point them to the great Hope; everything that will aid them to live up to the best that is in them, and to strive to recapture some long-lost Vision of the Highest, will be helping in the great work of human regeneration that was set on foot by the One who came to give beauty for ashes.

While only a few are entrusted with the message of the prophet or the seer, we all can specialise on whatsoever things are lovely and pure and of good report; and we shall be of some use--if only in a quiet way--to our day and generation if we can help others also to think on these things.

[Sidenote: Goodness does not excuse Dulness]

But one point must not be overlooked--and in saying this I am summing up most that has gone before: If a book is to succeed, it must be well written.

Because a certain number of highly unpleasant books have succeeded, and a certain number of highly moral books have failed, beginners sometimes consider this as an indication of public preference. What they forget, or do not know, is this: The nasty book succeeded, in spite of its nastiness, because it was well and brightly written; while the moral book failed, in spite of its goodness, because it was badly written and superlatively dull. If the moral book that failed had been as well written as the nasty book that succeeded, it would not only have done as well as the nasty book, _it would have done a great deal better_.

All but a small degenerate section of the public prefer wholesome to vicious literature--but nobody wants a dull book! And the amateur writer of good books often overlooks this latter fact.

Therefore, bear in mind that it is not sufficient that you make a book clean and healthy and good; you must endeavour to make cleanness as attractive as it really is, and healthiness as desirable as it really is, and God-ordained Righteousness the most satisfying of all the things worth seeking.

When you can do this, you will find a fair-sized public waiting, and anxious, to buy your books.

You will not know what good you may be doing--it is never desirable for any of us to hear much on this score, humanity is so sadly liable to swelled head! But occasionally some one in the big outside world may send you a sincere "Thank you." When this comes you will suddenly realise, though you cannot explain why, that there are some things even more worth while than the publisher's cheque.

INDEX

A

Abbreviations to be avoided in verse, 247

Abstract qualities to be gauged, 25

Alexander, Mrs., _Burial of Moses_, 75

Allen, James Lane, and local colour, 176

Allingham, Wm., poem by, 170

Allusions, hackneyed, 155

Amateurs, what they need to cultivate and avoid, 47

Amateurs, two classes of, 139

Amateurs copying unawares, 203

Amateurs and marriage offers in stories, 209

Amateurs' lack of first-hand knowledge, 198

Ambiguity, avoid, 157

American writers and local colour, 174, 175

Ancient facts undesirable except in text-book, 149

_Angel Court_, Austin Dobson, 290

Anthologies, verse, 75, 76

Antiquated expressions, 52

Arnold, Matthew, 75

Article, settle object in writing it, 147

Articles that are not wanted, 151; big subjects to be avoided, 155; "How to ----," editors overdone with, 154; which fail, 138; useful divisions, 136; ruled by form, 136; on subjects already dealt with, 153; study type of, in magazine you are writing for, 152; must be sent to editors in time, 150; must be topical, 150; starting in the middle, 147

Artist and detail, 100

Artist's fragments, an, 167

Artistic atmosphere, 178

Artistic training and literary first attempts, 4, 98-100

"Atmosphere," healthy and otherwise, 181; as a time saver, 180

Atmospheric purpose of story writer, 89

Audience, settle on your, 126

Austen's, Jane, old-world "atmosphere," 184

Author's aim to help readers God-ward, 293

Authors must have something in their heads to write down, 11

Authorship compared with dressmaking, 5, 7

B

Baby prattle in amateur verse, 239

Barclay, Mrs., _White Ladies of Worcester_, 41; _The Rosary_, 210

Barrie, Sir J., and dialect, 195

Barrie, Sir J., short stories, 91; _Window in Thrums_, 224

Beautiful thoughts do not guarantee beautiful writing, 98

Begin in the middle, 147

Be natural, 48, 106

Benson, Dr. A. C., 65

Big subjects to be avoided, 154

Birrell, Augustine, 65

Blackmore and local colour, 174

Blue pencil to be used by writer rather than editor, 252

"Body," needed in writing, 123

Bolshevism in literature, 291

Booksellers as readers, 118

Books that shriek, 38

Books which survive. Why? 29

Boothby, Guy, and proof corrections, 223

Boudoir stories, 206

Brain misuse, nature's revenge for, 36

_British Weekly_, for style, 56

_Broad Highway, The_, "atmosphere" of, 184

Browning, Mrs. and Christina Rossetti, 76

Browning, Mrs., "Sonnets from the Portuguese," 244

Browning's _Paracelsus_, 71; "rough-hewn" method, 70

Bryant and Longfellow, 76, 77

Bullock, Shan F., and local colour, 174

By-gone models of amateurs, 209

C

Cable, George, 176

Cabmen, article on, 113

Callers on editors, 274

Canton, William, 42

Caricature is not characterisation, 142

Carlyle's "rough-hewn" method, 70

Cataloguing instead of art, 140

Causes of actions to be studied, 27

Central idea, necessary to story, 79

Character delineation needed in love-stories, 215

Characterisation is not caricature, 142

Characters in story, values of, 84; should not be multiplied unduly, 220; should explain themselves, 216, 219; to be introduced early, 219

Chatterton, 269

Cheap books, the flood of, 38

Chesterton, G. K., paradoxes of, 165

Children, mistakes of writers for, 127

Chimney-pot, evolution of the, 43

Chimney-pots, Ruskin's chapter on, 44

Choate, Joseph H., on Dickens, 231

Choose topic from your own environment, 200

Clarity, aim for, 161

Classics, our purpose on reading them, 111, 112

Clarke, Charles Heber, 293

Cleanness should be made attractive, 295

Cleverness must not be obtrusive, 109

Climax, do not anticipate, 228

Climax in article, 147

Climax, never lose sight of, 89

Coleridge's _Kubla Khan_, 75, 170

Colloquialisms, avoid, 195

Condensation, need of, 106

Condensation never spoils beginner's work, 257

Contrasts, incidents inserted in stories as, 86

Copy, universal tendency to, 202

Copying unrecognised by amateurs, 203

_Country of the Pointed Firs, The_, 224

Craddock, Chas. Egbert, and local colour, 176

_Cranford_, 184, 201

Creating an "atmosphere," 185

Creation and copying, 203

Criticise your own work, 129

Criticism, editors have no time for, 9

Crockett, S. R., and dialect, 195

Curtailment of sentences may be carried to excess, 50

"Curtains" are sound business, 229

"Curtains," Dickens', 231

"Curtains" necessary for serial publication, 231

Cut down your MSS., 253

Cynic really gets nowhere, 30

D

Dante, why we read, 111, 112

David and Jonathan, 155

Defects overlooked by fame, 124

Delay in editorial decision on MSS., 276

Delete superfluities in your MS., 254

_Denouement_ as a surprise, 213, 225

Detail, knowledge of, imperative, 21; study of, 100; too much, 92, 140

Devices to reach editors, 283

Dialect an extra mental strain on reader, 194; requires exceptional skill, 195

Diary form of story, 191

Dickens, Charles, an adept at "curtains," 231

Dickens, central ideas of, 79

Diffusiveness, 106

Divine discontent, 197

Dobson, Austin, _Angel Court_, 290

Does the public want it? The publisher's question, 267

Dog, the real, 19

Doll heroines, 26

_Dombey and Son_ in U. S. A., 231

_Dream Days_, Kenneth Graham, 224

Dreams of youth valuable, 235

Dressmaking and authorship, 5, 7

Dull book not wanted by anyone, 295

Dulness not necessary to goodness, 294

E

Earle, Mabel, _Valley Song_, 248

Eccentricity will not secure permanent interest, 122

Editorial routine, 283

Editors do not purchase MS. because first attempt, 263; have no time to criticise and advise, 280; only buy what pays to publish, 264; take time to read MSS., 276; unmoved by irrelevant appeals, 261

Emotionalism, 184

Emotions of author not always interesting, 220

Ending, a happy one best, 226

Entertaining, every book should be, 128

Environment and circumstances to be studied, 19

Environment, your own, as your subject, 200

Every generation allows special characteristics of speech, 49

Exclusive information necessary, 45

Extracts, lavish use undesirable, 161

Expressions, antiquated, 52

F

Facts, ancient, to be omitted, 150

Facts needed, 21

Fame overlooking defects, 124

Farnol, Jeffrey, and old-world "atmosphere," 184

Feeding the brain with snippets, 37

Fiction, monotonous character of MSS., 80

Fiction, "strong," 287

Field, Eugene, _Limitations of Youth_, 249

"Fiona Macleod," 171

First attempts rarely acceptable, 102

First attempts in literature compared with art and music, 4

First-hand knowledge, need of, 198

First-person limitations, 188

_Forest of Wild Thyme_, Alfred Noyes, 250

Form as applied to articles, 136

Formless fragments, 167

Fragments, 166

Framework of story, 82

Freak writings cannot be forecasted, 268

G

_Garden of Verses, a Child's_, R. L. Stevenson, 250

Genius, mistaken ideas of, 4

Genius scarce, 13

Gloom manufacture is wrong, 227

Glow-worms as a hat-trimming, 153

God-ward help in literature, 293

_Golden Age_, Kenneth Graham, 224

Goodness does not excuse dulness, 295

Gosse, Dr. Edmund, 65

Graham, Kenneth, _Golden Age_ and _Dream Days_, 224

Grandmothers in amateur fiction, 210

Gray's _Elegy_, 67

Green, Dr. S. G., and _Pickwick Papers_, 232

"Grip" needed for selling, 117

"Grit" necessary in a novel, 122

H

Hackneyed phrases, 155

Healthiness, authors should aim at, 292

Healthiness should be made desirable, 295

Hearn, Lafcadio, and local colour, 174

Heroine, the rose-petal, 209

_Hiawatha's_ appeal to children, 250

"How to ----" articles overdone, 154

Human characteristics to be studied, 18

Human heart, pivot of great stories, 28

Hysterical "atmosphere," 184

I

Idea, original, lost, 160; ornate language cannot cover lack of, 160; starting, forgotten by amateurs, 126; the central, 79, 81

Ideas and words, 59; as varied as human nature, 81; more important than rhapsodies, 236

"Imaginative writing," 162

Immoral fiction, 288

Improbabilities, 162

Inaccuracy in detail fatal to success, 23

Incidents should not be crowded, 220

Income expected without training, 4

Indefinite style to be avoided, 150

Ingelow, Jean, 75

Inner workings of mind and heart to be studied, 26

Interest readers, the need to, 116

Interviews with editors undesirable, 272

Introductions to editors useless, 270

_Invisible Playmate_, 42

Involved sentences, 159

Isolation foolish for an author, 31

J

Jacobs, W. W., and local colour, 173

James, Henry, long sentences of, 165

Jewett, Sarah Orne, 176; _Country of Pointed Firs_, 224

Journalists as models for the amateur, 57

K

Kernahan, Coulson, 65

Keynote of story, 79

Kipling, Rudyard, and local colour, 174; short stories, 91; "The Recessional," 75

Kipling's "Cat that walked by itself," 142; varied styles, 104

Know your characters, 29

"Kubla Khan," 75, 170

L

_Lady of the Decoration_, 194

_Lady of the Lake_, 173

Landscape painting, 178

Language, pleasing, 71

Learning must not be obtrusive, 108

Leave off when finished, 147

Length of story must be considered, 134

Letters, story in the form of, 193

Life ever offering new discoveries, 29

Literary student at disadvantage compared with students of arithmetic, 6

Literature, an elusive business, 7; good, what constitutes it, 7; intangible, 8

Little, Frances, _Lady of the Decoration_, 194

_Little Women_, 201

Local colour and American authors, 174

Local colour subordinate to personality, 28

Locality should be known to story writer, 220

Longfellow, Bryant and Swinburne, 76, 77

Lovers' outpourings in amateur verse, 239

Love-story difficult for amateur, 211, 224

Love-story, need for character delineation, 215

Love-stories outlets for girls' emotions, 221

M

Magazine is a business proposition, 264

Main theme should make universal appeal, 27

Major, Charles, 184

Mannerisms not tolerated, 164

"Mark Twain" and preacher, 251

Marriage offers in amateur stories, 207

"Max Adder's" humour helpful, 293

Men and women as they really are, 29

Mental "atmosphere," conveying our own, 187

Mental food needed, 12

Mental indigestion, 37

Metrical composition, laws to be studied, 235

Meynell, Alice, "Song," 238

Minor details in stories, two purposes of, 86

Mitford, Miss, _Our Village_, 185

Modern English seldom used by amateur, 48

Modern style gained by reading modern stuff, 54

Modernity of style desirable, 50

Money-making should not alone be object in writing, 148

Monotony fatal to success, 120

Moral books should be as well-written as nasty ones, 295

Morley, Viscount, and prize poem, 73

Motif important, 81

Motives that prompt actions, 26, 27

MSS., proportion of accepted, 3

MSS. rejected, reasons why, 10, 148, 197

MSS. should be typed, 278

Music and art compared with literature, 4, 5, 6, 132

N

Nature dissertations in amateur verse, 239

Nature and mind, effects of nutriment, 11

Nature's revenge for misuse of brain, 36

Negatives, double, 159

New reliable matter will find acceptance, 46

Newspaper leading articles for style, 54

Notes of observations, 17, 20, 21

Novel, "grit" necessary for, 122

Novel, three-volume, 132

Novel, wedding need not be chief aim of, 80

Novelty desirable, 120

Novice must train himself, 6

Noyes, Alfred, 75, 250

O

Object, be sure of your, 127

Observation saves from pitfalls, 22

Observation to begin just where you are now, 32

Obvious not the whole of the story, the, 26

Old-fashioned style not wanted to-day, 52

Old-world "atmosphere," 183

Omar Khayyam, pessimistic "atmosphere" of, 184

One-sided view of life due to isolation, 31

Other people's brain-work not acceptable, 46

Originality necessary, 46

Originality not peculiarity, 164

Original work is rare, 202

_Our Admirable Betty_, "atmosphere" of, 184

_Our Village_, Miss Mitford, 185

Out-doory "atmosphere," 185

P

Padding stories, 85

Painting, three-part basis of, 132

Peculiarity not originality, 164

Peculiarity will not secure permanent interest, 122

Pedantic style, avoid, 161

People, study of, needed, 30

"Personal" marking does not carry to editor, 283

Personal outlook of readers, 119

Pessimism manufacture is criminal, 292

Pessimistic "atmosphere," 184

Pett Ridge and local colour, 173

Phil May's methods, 255

_Pickwick Papers_ and school holiday, 232

Picture palaces _versus_ reading, 39

Pigeons in war, amateur article on, 146, 149

Plato, why we read, 111, 112

Plausible imp, the, 257

Plots, making, 108

Plots, well-worn, 204

Poems for comparison, 76

Poems should have some definite thought, 236

Poetic idea in every poem, 237

Poetry anthologies, 75, 76

Poetry leads to good prose, 72

Poetry, reading aloud, 74

Poetry, the so-called "new," 244

Point, necessary to a story, 214

Polish, 222

Preliminary studies for perfect work, 101

Press dates are long before publication, 150

Proposals in fiction and real life, 212

Psychological bearings to be noted, 24

Publisher better judge than author, 267; not a philanthropic agent, 265

Publisher's requirements must be conformed to, 282

Publishers specialise in fixed directions, 269

"Pull together" your MS., 255

_Punch_ and a "curtain," 233

_Punch_, influence of, 286

Purpose, all writing should have a, 128

Q

Quiller-Couch, Sir A., 65

Quotation marks, 161

R

Reader's choice, rather than yours, for the reader, 151, 152

Reading, aloud, 55, 74; helps you to judge the worth of information, 43; loss of the power of, 39; and nibbling, 40; necessary for historical stories, 41

Read only what you can read thoroughly, 40

"Realism" in fiction, 290

Reliability essential, 46

Return of MSS., 277

Reviewers, 118

Rhapsodies do not constitute poetry, 236

"Rich sonority," 54

Righteousness, authors should aim at, 293

Rives, Amelie, and local colour, 176

_Rosary, The_, heroine of, 210

Rossetti, Christina, 75; and Mrs. Browning, and Tennyson, 76, 77

"Rough-hewn" method, 70

Routine in editors' offices, 283

_Rubaiyat_, pessimistic "atmosphere" of the, 184

Rules, established, save our wasting time, 130

Ruskin's "Chapter on Chimney-Pots," 44; defects overlooked, 124; _Poetry of Architecture_, _Queen of the Air_, _Preterita_, 65; _Sesame and Lilies_, 65, 183; tangents, 137

S

Schools for literature needed, 5

Scott's _Lady of the Lake_, 173

Secondary matter in story, 85

Seeing yourself in print should not be alone the object in writing, 148

Selection, instinct for, 139, 146

Self-expression, craving for, 9

Selling, the essential of book production, 119

Sensational, the demand for, 38

Sentences should be short, 221

Serial publication necessitates "curtains," 231

_Sesame and Lilies_, 183

Settle your chronological starting point, 145

Shakespeare language not necessary to amateur, 50

Shakespeare and spiritual values, 28, 29; why we read, 111, 112

Sharp, Wm., 171

Shaw, Bernard, cynical scintillations of, 165

Shelley's _Cloud_, 75

Short sentences an advantage, 221

Short stories need same rules as long ones, 90

Shrieking books, 38

Skimming, danger of, 36

Slang indicates ignorance, 62

Slang, monotony of, 61

Slangy style, avoid, 161

Smile, making people, 293

Snippets of reading, 37

_Sonnets from the Portuguese_, Mrs. Browning, 244

Sound, refined and otherwise, 69

_Spectator_ articles for style, 55

Speeding up our sentences, 49

Spiritual values to be noted, 24

Spiritual values and Shakespeare, 28, 29

Stale material, 45

Start where you are, 224

Starting-point, chronological, to be settled, 145

Steel, Mrs. F. A., 91, 174

Stevenson, R. L., _Essays_, 64; _Garden of Verses_, 250

Story, "atmospheric" purpose of author, 89; balance of, 135; assessing values of characters, 85; climax never to be lost sight of, 89; contrasts, examples of, 87; cut out irrelevant particulars, 136; dovetailing incidents, 89; framework of, 82; get well under way early in, 134; historical reading necessary for, 41; keynote of, 79; length of, 134; the minor details, 86; the three-part basis, 132; incidents, select those that matter, 142; in form of diary, 192; in form of letters, 193; over-crowding with detail, 92; "slap dash" method of writing, 92; told in clear manner most popular, 196; written in first person, limitations of, 188; written in third person usually best, 188; secondary matter in, 85

Stories by masters, nothing merely a "fill-up," 86

Stories, short, need same rules as long ones, 90

Strauss' sound monstrosities, 68

"Strong" fiction, 287

Style, avoid indefinite, 156

Style of writing should vary, 104

Subjects must be of interest to readers, 119; not repeated by editors, 153; unable to be studied should be avoided, 19

Successful books must be well-written, 294

Swinburne and Longfellow, 76

Sympathy needed to write convincingly, 29, 30

T

Tact necessary to contributors, 284

Taylor, Ann and Jane, 124

Tennyson and Christina Rossetti, 77

Tennyson's "Break, break, break," 171; "Flower in a Crannied Wall," 171

Tennyson's poems for reading aloud, 74

Thinking, formless, 171

Third-person narrative usually best, 188

Thought transference, 59

Thought, beware of labouring a, 160

Thoughts, difficulty of writing them down, 98

Three-part basis of story, 132

_Timothy's Quest_, 224

Topicality, keep an eye on, 150

Training for authorship imperative, 5

Training yourself, 140

Travellers, publishers', as readers, 118

Typed MSS. most likely to be read, 278

U

Ugliness is not art, 291

_Uncle Tom's Cabin_, central idea of, 79

Unpleasant topics, 288

Unseen that counts, the, 24

Using two words where one will suffice, 50

V

_Valley Song_, by Mabel Earle, 248

Verse, abbreviations to be avoided in, 247

Verse, amateur, 239

Verse anthologies, 75, 76

Verse-making, laws of, to be studied, 235

Verse must voice world-wide need, 243

Verse, worth reading, amateur, 239

Verse-writing a useful exercise, 234; leads to good prose, 72

Vocabulary of average person, 60

W

Wax-Figure characters, 26

Wedding need not be chief aim of novel, 80

Well-worn plots, 204

_When Knighthood was in Flower_, "atmosphere" of, 184

Wholesome literature preferred by public, 295

Why, every, hath a wherefore, 160

Why some books survive, 28, 29

Wiggin, Kate Douglas, 224

Wilkins, Mary E., and local colour, 175, 176

Wilson, President, 171-word sentence, 221

_Window in Thrums, A_, 224

Wister, Owen, and local colour, 176

_Woman's Magazine_ offered unsuitable subjects, 153

_Woman's Magazine_ at press some weeks before publication, 150

Wooden-horse heroes, 26

Word, value of a, 66

Word-picture, fragmentary, 169

Word-picture study, 104

Word-pictures, need to select incidents for, 141

Words, greatest writers had no more than we, 251

Words, subject should regulate choice, 158

Words, use simple, 67

Words, using two when one will suffice, 50

Write as you actually speak, 48

Writing difficult to reduce to set of rules, 8

Writing is hard work, 204

Writer's influence greater than preacher's, 287

Writing a serious responsibility, 287

Writing that lasts, 25

* * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Obvious misprints and punctuation errors have been corrected silently.