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diff --git a/36837.txt b/36837.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94cfca5 --- /dev/null +++ b/36837.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8064 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lure of the Pen, by Flora Klickmann + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Lure of the Pen + A book for Would-Be Authors + + +Author: Flora Klickmann + + + +Release Date: July 24, 2011 [eBook #36837] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LURE OF THE PEN*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE LURE OF THE PEN + +A Book for Would-Be Authors + +by + +FLORA KLICKMANN + +Editor of +"The Girl's Own Paper and Woman's Magazine" + +Who Has Written "The Flower-Patch among the Hills," +"Between the Larchwoods and the Weir," +and Other Works + + + + + + + +G. P. Putnam's Sons +New York and London +1920 + +Copyright, 1920, by +G. P. Putnam's Sons + + + + + DEDICATED TO + MR. JAMES BOWDEN + + WHO HAS FEW EQUALS, EITHER + AS A PUBLISHER, OR AS A FRIEND + + + + +PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION + + +In sending out this new book to the American public, I feel I am +addressing a sympathetic audience, since other volumes that have +preceded it have been most cordially received, and have added +considerably to my long list of friends on the Western side of the +Atlantic. + +At first glance it may seem as though the difference between the +writings of American and British authors is too marked to allow of a +book on Authorship proving useful to both countries--but in reality the +difference is only superficial, and is largely confined to methods of +newspaper journalism, or connected with mannerisms and topical +qualities. + +Fundamentally, both nations work on the same lines and acknowledge the +same governing laws in Literature. American authors, no less than +British, derive their inspirations from European classics. + +And magazine editors and publishers in both countries are only too +grateful for good work from either side. + +No one can teach authors how or what to write; but sometimes it is +possible to help the beginners to an understanding of what it is better +not to write. For the rest I hope the book explains itself. + + FLORA KLICKMANN + + Fleet Street, London. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + PART ONE: THE MSS. THAT FAIL + Why they Fail 3 + Three Essentials in Training 11 + + PART TWO: ON KEEPING YOUR EYES OPEN + A Course in Observation 17 + The Assessment of Spiritual Values 24 + + PART THREE: THE HELP THAT BOOKS CAN GIVE + The Bane of "Browsing" 35 + Reading for Definite Data 41 + Reading for Style 47 + The Need for Enlarging the Vocabulary 58 + The Charm of Musical Language 68 + Analysing an Author's Methods 78 + + PART FOUR: POINTS A WRITER OUGHT TO NOTE + Practice Precedes Publication 97 + The Reader must be Interested 116 + Form should be Considered 130 + Right Selection is Important 139 + When Writing Articles 144 + Suggestions for Style 156 + The Ubiquitous Fragment 166 + Concerning Local Colour 172 + Creating Atmosphere 178 + The Method of Presenting a Story 188 + Fallacies in Fiction 197 + Some Rules for Story-Writing 217 + About the Climax 225 + The Use of "Curtains" 229 + On Making Verse 234 + The Function of the Blue Pencil 252 + + PART FIVE: AUTHOR, PUBLISHER, AND PUBLIC + When Offering Goods for Sale 261 + The Responsibility 286 + + INDEX 297 + + + + +PART ONE + +THE MSS. THAT FAIL + + + In the Business of Making Literature, the only Quality that + presents itself in Abundance is entirely untrained Mediocrity. + + + + +The Lure of the Pen + + + + +Why They Fail + + +In the course of a year I read somewhere about nine thousand stories, +articles and poems. These are exclusive of those read by others in my +office. + +Of these nine thousand I purchase about six hundred per annum. The +remainder are usually declined for one of three reasons; either, + +They are not suited to the policy and the requirements of the publishing +house, or the periodicals, for which I am purchasing. Or, + +They tread ground we have already covered. Or, + +They have no marketable value. + +The larger proportion of the rejected MSS. come under the last heading. +They are of the "homing" order, warranted to return to their starting +point. + +The number that I buy does not indicate the number that I require. In +normal times I could use at any rate double the number that I purchase. +I never have an overstock of the right thing. I never have more than I +can publish of certain-to-sell matter. No publisher or editor ever has. + +In the business of Making Literature (and throughout these chapters I +use the word literature in its widest sense) genius is rare. +Nearly-genius is almost as rare. The only quality that presents itself +in abundance is entirely untrained mediocrity. + +It may be thought that this applies equally to all departments of the +world's work; but it is not so. While genius is scarce wherever one +looks, I know of only one other vocation where the candidates expect +good pay at the very start without any sort of training, any experience, +any specialised knowledge, or any idea of the simplest requirement of +the business from which they hope to draw an income--the other vocation +being domestic service. + +For example: Though thousands of paintings and sketches are offered me +in the course of the year, I cannot recall one instance of an artist +announcing that this is his, or her, first attempt at drawing; all the +work submitted, even the feeblest, shows previous practice or training +of some sort, be it ever so elementary. Yet it is no uncommon thing to +receive with a MS. a letter explaining, "This is the first time I have +ever tried to write anything." + +Then again, no one expects to be engaged to play a violin solo at a +concert, when she has had no training, merely because she craves a +public appearance and applause. Yet many a girl and woman writes to an +editor: "This is my first attempt at a poem. I do so hope you will +publish it, as I should so like to see myself in print." + +And no one would expect to get a good salary as a dressmaker by +announcing that, though she has not the most elementary knowledge of the +business, she feels convinced that she could make a dress. Yet over and +over again people have asked me to give them a chance, explaining that, +though they were quite inexperienced, they felt they had it in them to +write. + +Nevertheless, despite this prevailing idea that we all possess +heaven-sent genius, which is ready to sprout and blossom straight away +with no preparatory work--an idea which gains added weight from the fact +that there are no great schools for the student who desires to enter the +literary profession, as there are for students of art and music--some +training is imperative; and if the would-be writer is to go far, the +training must be rigorous and very comprehensive. + +But unlike most other businesses and professions, the novice must train +himself; he can look for very little help from others. + +The art student gains information and experience by working with others +in a studio; it gives him some common ground for comparisons; where all +are sketching from the same model, he is able to see work that is +better, and work that is worse, than his own; and probably he is able to +grasp wherein the difference lies. + +The music student who is one of several to remain in the room while each +in turn has a pianoforte lesson, hears the remarks of the professor +(possibly a prominent man in his own profession) on each performance, +and can learn a large amount from the criticisms and corrections +bestowed on the others, quite apart from those applying to her own +playing. + +But for the would-be author there is no college where the leading +literary lights listen patiently, for an hour or two at a stretch, while +the students read their stories and poems and articles aloud for +criticism and correction. Here and there ardent amateurs form themselves +into small literary coteries for this purpose; but often these either +develop into mutual admiration societies, or fizzle out for lack of a +guiding force. + +[Sidenote: Literature is the most Elusive Business in the World] + +The difficulty with literature is this: It is the most elusive business +in the world. No one can say precisely what constitutes good literature, +because, no matter how you may classify and tabulate its +characteristics, some new genius is sure to break out in a fresh place; +and no one can lay down a definite course of training that can be relied +on to meet even the average requirements of the average case. + +You can set the instrumentalist to work at scales and studies for +technique; the dressmaker can practise stitchery and the application of +scientific measurement; the art student can study the laws governing +perspective, balance of design, the juxtaposition of colour, and a dozen +other topics relative to his art. + +And more than this, in most businesses (and I include the professions) +you can demonstrate to the students, in a fairly convincing manner, when +their work is wrong. You can show the girl who is learning dressmaking +the difference between large uneven stitches and small regular ones; the +undesirability of having a skirt two inches longer at one side than it +is at the other. You can indicate to the art student when his subject +is out of drawing, or suggest a preferable choice of colours. And though +these points may only touch the mechanical surface of things, they help +the student along the right road, and are invaluable aids to him in his +studies. True, such advice cannot make good a lack of real genius, yet +it may help to develop nearly-genius, and that is not to be despised. + +But with literature, there is so little that is tangible, and so much +that is intangible. Beyond the bare laws that govern the construction of +the language, only a fraction of the knowledge that is necessary can be +stated in concrete terms for the guidance of the student. And because it +is difficult to reduce the art of writing to any set of rules, the +amateur often regards it as the one vocation that is entirely devoid of +any constructive principles; the one vocation wherein each can do +exactly as he pleases, and be a law unto himself, no one being in a +better position than himself to say what is great and what is feeble, +since no one else can quote chapter and verse as authority for making a +pronouncement on the merits--and more particularly the demerits--of his +work. + +And yet, nearly all the English-speaking race want to write. The +craving for "self-expression" is one of the characteristics of this +century; and what better medium is there for this than writing? Hence +the lure of the pen. + +It is partly because so many beginners do not know where to turn for +criticism, or an opportunity to measure their work with that of others, +that some send their early, crude efforts to editors, hoping to get, at +least, some opinion or word of guidance, even though the MS. be +declined. Yet this is what an editor cannot undertake to do. Think what +an amount of work would be involved if I were to set down my reasons for +declining each of those eight thousand and more MSS. that I turn down +annually! It could not be done, in addition to all the other claims on +one's office time. + +[Sidenote: Why the MSS. are Rejected] + +But though life would be too short for any editor to write even a brief +criticism on each MS. rejected, certain defects repeat themselves so +often that it is quite possible to specify some outstanding faults--or +rather, qualities which are lacking--that lead to the downfall of one +MS. after another, with the automatic persistency of recurring decimals. + +Speaking broadly, I generally find that the MS. which is rejected +because it has no marketable value betrays one or more of the following +deficiencies in its author:-- + + Lack of any preliminary training. + " " specialised knowledge of the subject dealt with. + " " modernity of thought and diction. + " " the power to reduce thought to language. + " " cohesion and logical sequence of ideas. + " " ability to get the reader's view-point. + " " new and original ideas and themes. + " " the instinct for selection. + " " a sense of proportion. + +The majority of such defects can be remedied with study and practice; +and even though the final result may not be a work of genius, it will be +something much more likely to be marketable than the MS. that has +neither knowledge nor training behind it. + + + + +Three Essentials in Training + + +"How am I to set about training for literary work?" is a question that +is put to me most days in the year. + +Training comes under three headings: Observation, Reading, and Writing. + +The majority of beginners make the mistake of putting writing first; but +before you can commit anything to paper, you must have something in your +head to write down. If you have but little in your brain, your writing +will be worthless. + +[Sidenote: We get out of Life what we put into it] + +Just as a plant requires special fertilisers if it is to develop fine +blossoms and large fruit, so the mind requires food of exceptional +nourishment if it is to produce something out of the ordinary, something +worth reading. + +It is one of the great laws of Nature that, as a general rule, we get +out of life about what we put into it. If a farmer wants bumper crops, +he must apply manure liberally to his land; if a man wants big returns +from his business, he must devote much time and thought and energy to +it. And in the same way, if you want good stuff to come out of your +head, you must first of all put plenty of good stuff in. + +But--and this is very important--it is not supposed to come out again in +the same form that it went in! This point beginners often forget. When +sweet peas are fed with sulphate of ammonia, they don't promptly produce +more sulphate of ammonia; they utilise the chemical food to promote much +finer and altogether better flowers. The same principle governs the +application of suitable nourishment to all forms of life--the recipient +retains its own personal characteristics, but transmutes the food into +the power to intensify, enlarge, and develop those personal +characteristics. + +In like manner, the food you give your mind must be used to intensify +and enlarge and develop your individuality; and what you write must +reflect your individuality (not to be confused with egoism); it should +not be merely a paraphrase of your reading. + +All this is to explain why I put observation and reading before writing. +They are the principal channels through which the mind is fed. And, in +the main, the value of your early literary work will be in direct ratio +to the keenness and accuracy of your observation, and the wisdom shown +in your choice of reading. + +You think this sounds like reducing writing to a purely mechanical +process, in which genius does not count? + +Not at all. It is merely that the initial stages of training for any +work involve a certain amount of routine and repetition, until we have +acquired facility in expressing our ideas. + +In any case, very few of us are suffering from real genius. Ability, +talent, cleverness, are fairly common; but genius is rare. If you +possess genius, you will discover it quite soon, and, what is more +important, other people will likewise discover it. As some one has said, +"Genius, like murder, _will_ out!" You can't hide it. + +Meanwhile, it will save time and argument to pretend that you are just +an ordinary being like the rest of us, with everything to learn; you +will progress more rapidly on these lines than if you spend time +contemplating, and admiring, what you think is a Heaven-sent endowment +that requires no shaping. + + + + +PART TWO + +ON KEEPING YOUR EYES OPEN + + + One of the drawbacks of an Advanced Civilisation is the + fact that it tends to lessen the power of Observation. + + + + +A Course in Observation + + +Begin your observation course by noting anything and everything likely +to have a bearing on the subject of your writing, and jot down your +observations in the briefest of notes. No matter if it seem a trifling +thing, in the early part of your training it will be well worth your +while to record even the trifles, since this all helps to develop and +focus the faculty for observation. + +One of the drawbacks of an advanced civilisation is the fact that it +tends to lessen the power of observation. The average person in this +twentieth century sees next to nothing of the detail of life. We have no +longer the need to cultivate observation for self-protection and +food-finding as in primitive times. Everything is done for us by +pressing a button or putting a penny in the slot, till it is fast +becoming too much of an effort for us even to look (or it was, before +the War); and the ability to look--and to see when we look--is, +consequently, disappearing through disuse. + +You will be surprised how much there is in this practice of observation, +once you get started. + +[Sidenote: Study Human Characteristics] + +For example: If you intend to write a story, you will need to study the +various types of people figuring therein; the distinguishing +characteristics, the method of speaking, and the mental attitude of +each. + +The amateur invariably states the colour of a girl's eyes and hair, and +the tint of her complexion, with some sentences about her social +standing and her clothes, and then considers her fully equipped for her +part in the piece. Whereas, in reality, these items are of no importance +so far as a story goes. We really do not mind whether Dinah, in _Adam +Bede_, had violet eyes or grey-green; it is the soul of the woman that +counts. Neither do we trouble whether Portia wore a well-tailored coat +and skirt, or a simple muslin frock lavishly trimmed with Valenciennes; +it is her ready wit, her resourcefulness, and her deep-lying affection +that interest us. + +Next in importance to the human beings are the circumstances involved. + +Does your heroine decide to leave her millionaire-father's palatial home +and hide her identity in slum-work and a room in a tenement? + +You will have to do a fair amount of first-hand observation to get the +details and general "atmosphere" appertaining to a millionaire's +residence and mode of living, and contrast these with the conditions +that represent life in the squalid quarters of a city. + +[Sidenote: Environment and Circumstances offer Wide Scope] + +Perhaps you will tell me that it is impossible for you to make these +observations, as you do not know your way about any real slum, or you +are not on visiting terms with and any millionaire. That raises another +important question that I hope to deal with later, when we come to the +subject of story-writing. Here I can only say, Don't attempt to write +upon topics you are unable to study at near range. + +After all, there are unlimited subjects that are close to everybody's +hand. You may be including a dog in your story. Is he to be a _real_ +dog, or that dear, faithful old creature, who has been leading an active +life (in fiction) for a century or more, rescuing the heir when he +tumbles in a pond; apprising the sleeping family upstairs of the fact +that the clothes-horse by the kitchen fire has caught alight; tracking +the burglar to his lair; re-uniting fallen-out lovers by sitting up +beseechingly on his hind legs, and in a hundred other ways making +himself generally useful? + +I am fond of dogs, and I never grudge them literary honours; but I +sometimes wish we could get a change of descriptive matter where they +are concerned. What are _you_ proposing to say about the dog? "He ran +joyfully to meet his master, wagging his tail the while"? Something like +that? I shouldn't wonder. That is the beginning and the end of so many +amateur descriptions of a dog; and, judging by the number of times I +have read these words, his poor tail must be nearly wagged off by now. + +Instead of being content with this, start making careful observations, +and you will soon have something else to write about. Notice how a dog +talks--with his ears; he can tell you almost anything, once you learn to +read his ears. And when you have noted all the points you can in this +direction, and mastered this part of his language, see what you can +learn from his walk; you can estimate a dog's temper and feelings, his +sorrow, his joy, and the state of his health, by noticing the variations +in his walk. Why, any one dog can provide you with a book full of +observations. + +You may say, however, that as your story is to be a short one, you could +never use up a book full of observations if you had them. + +[Sidenote: You need a Score of Facts in your Head for each one you put +on Paper] + +Very likely; but always remember that you need to have a score of facts +in your head for every one you put down on paper. You must be thoroughly +saturated with a subject before you can write even a brief description +in a telling and convincing manner. Therefore, never be afraid of making +too many notes in your observation-book. + +Many of these entries you will never refer to again; the very act of +writing them down will so impress them on your memory that they become a +matter-of-course to you. This in itself is valuable training; it is one +of the processes by which a person may become "well-informed"--an +essential qualification for a good writer. + +While over-elaboration of detail in your writing is seldom desirable, +apart from a text-book or a treatise, knowledge of detail is imperative +if that writing is to conjure up situations in the reader's mind and +make them seem vividly real. In describing scenery, for instance, you do +not need to give the name of every bit of vegetation in sight, till your +MS. looks like a botanical dictionary; but it is useful to know those +names, you may require some of them; and until your work is actually +shaping, you cannot tell exactly what you will use and what omit. + +[Sidenote: Keen Observation will save you from Pitfalls] + +The habit of keen observation will save you from a legion of pitfalls. +The more you train your eyes to see, and your mind to retain what you +have seen, the less chance there is of your putting down inaccuracies. + +I have been reading a MS. wherein the heroine--a beautiful girl with a +face like a haunting memory (whatever that may look like)--spent a whole +afternoon lying full-length on the grass, the first sunny day in +February, revelling in the scent of violets near by, and watching the +swallows skimming above her. If the writer had no opportunity to observe +the comings and goings of swallows, she might at least have turned up an +encyclopaedia, when she would have found that swallows do not arrive in +England till well on into April. + +Then, after 249 more pages, the beautiful girl finally died of a broken +heart--obviously absurd! In real life she would have died on the very +next page of rheumatic fever and double pneumonia, after lying on the +wet grass all that time! + +Frequently, when I point out similar errors to the novice, I get some +such reply as this, "Of course, that reference to swallows was only a +slip of the pen"; or, "After all, it is merely a minor point whether she +lay on the grass or walked along the road; it doesn't really affect the +story as a whole." + +True, such discrepancies may be only minor details; but, on the other +hand, they may not. I have noticed, however, that the writer who is +inaccurate on small points is equally liable to inaccuracy where the +main features of the story are concerned; and the writer who does not +know enough about his subject to get his details right seldom knows +enough about it to get any of it right. + + + + +The Assessment of Spiritual Values + + +There is one aspect of life that can only be learnt by observation; a +phase of your training where books and lectures can be of but little +assistance to you. Important as it is that you should note the material +things relating to your subject, it is still more important that you +should train yourself to note the psychological bearings and the +spiritual values of life, since these are often of far more vital +consequence to a story than the plot. + +By "spiritual values" I do not necessarily mean anything of a directly +religious quality. I use the term to signify the revelation of mind and +heart and soul of the various characters that a writer presents, as +distinct from a catalogue of externals; the reading of motives, and the +recognition of the forces that are within us, as distinguished from the +chronicling of superficial items. + +[Sidenote: The Unseen that Counts] + +So often in the world of men and women around us it is the unseen that +counts. Just below the surface life is teeming with motives and aims +and ideals and personality; with problems that involve mixed feelings, +and produce paradox and misjudgment, and apparently irreconcilable +qualities. These may show scarcely a ripple on the outside, and yet be +the real factors that are shaping lives, and influencing the world for +better or for worse, and, incidentally, affecting the whole trend of a +story. + +To gauge these abstract qualities and their consequences accurately is +the biggest task of the writer; and according to the amount of such +insight that he brings to bear on his subject, will be the durability of +his work, since this alone is the part that lives. Fashions and +furniture, scenery and architecture, maps and dynasties, laws and +customs, even language and the meaning of words, all change; and the +older grows the world, the more rapid are the changes. The only things +that remain unaltered are the laws of Nature and the longings of the +soul. Hence the only writings that last beyond the changing fashions of +the moment are those that centralise on these fundamental things, giving +secondary place to ephemeral details. + +If you want your work to live, it is useless to make the main interest +centre in something that will be out-of-date and passed beyond human +memory within a very little while. + +This insight as to the subtleties of life is the quality that gives +vitality to your writing. Without it your characters will be no more +alive than a wax figure in a draper's window, no matter how handsomely +you may clothe them in descriptive matter. Have you ever read a story +wherein the heroine seemed about as real and alive as a saw-dust-stuffed +doll, and the hero had as much "go" in him as a wooden horse? I have, +alas! thousands of them! And the reason for the lifelessness was the +lack in the author of all sense of "spiritual values." + +A knowledge of the inner workings of the mind and heart and soul can +only be acquired by close and constant observation. You may remember in +_Julius Caesar_, where Caesar tells Antonio that if he were liable to +fear, the man he should avoid would be Cassius; he describes him thus: +"He is a great observer, and he looks quite through the deeds of men." +It is just this power that the writer needs--the ability to look past +the actions themselves to the motives that prompted them. + +It is so easy to record the obvious. What we need to look for is the +truth that is not obvious. For instance, at first sight it may seem +quite easy for us to decide why a person did a certain thing. A woman +makes an irritable remark. Why did she make that irritable remark? Bad +temper! we promptly reply. But perhaps it wasn't bad temper; it may have +been due to ill-health--a bad tooth can generate as much irritability in +half an hour as the worse temper going. Or it may have been caused by +insomnia; or by nerves strained to the breaking-point with trouble and +anxiety. Or the speaker may have been vexed with herself for some action +of her own, and her vexation found vent in this way. + +If you were writing a story, the cause of her irritability might be an +important link in the chain of events. And in scores of other +directions, the cause of an action might be infinitely more important in +the working out of your plot than the action itself. + +Moreover, if you want your work to appeal to a wide and varied audience, +you must take as your main theme something that is understood by all +conditions of people; something that makes a universal appeal. That is +why the greatest writers make the human heart the pivot of their +stories, as a rule. Readers are primarily interested in the doings of, +and the happenings to, certain people; and very particularly the motives +that led up to the doings and happenings, and the reasons why certain +things were said and done, and the psychological results of the sayings +and doings. + +[Sidenote: The Main Theme should make a Universal Appeal] + +In the main, it is not of paramount importance to you, when you are +engrossed in a story, whether the scene is laid in Japan among decaying +Buddhist temples, or in a Devonshire village. It is the personality of +the characters, their sorrows and joys, their struggles and love +affairs, and the solution of their human problems that make the +chief claim on your interest. Certainly, the scenery and "local +colour" and inanimate surroundings may influence you favourably or +otherwise--backgrounds and the general "setting" of a story are +valuable, more valuable than the amateur realises; nevertheless, they +are not the main features, and should never be made the main features in +fiction. + +Once you grasp the importance of the "spiritual values," in life itself +no less than in writing, you will understand why it is that some books +survive centuries of change and social upheaval, and appeal to all sorts +and conditions of temperaments. When we study Shakespeare at school, we +invariably wonder in our secret heart (even though we daren't voice +such heresy!) what on earth people can see in him. To our immature +intelligence he can be dulness itself, while his style seems +long-winded, and many of his plots appear most feeble affairs beside our +favourite books of adventure. We are not sufficiently developed and +experienced in our school days to be able to understand and appreciate +his greatness, which lies in his amazing knowledge of the human heart +and his grasp of "spiritual values." + +[Sidenote: Life is ever offering New Discoveries] + +One of the fascinating things about life is the way it is for ever +offering us new discoveries. We never need get to the end of anything. +There are always heights beyond heights, depths below depths, further +recesses to penetrate, fresh things to find out. And nowhere is this +more clearly demonstrated than when we come to the study of human nature +itself. The writer who strives to depict men and women as they really +are is always coming on new surprises; he never arrives at the end of +his observations. And he soon realises how infinitely more important are +the subtle workings of the heart and mind than all the material things +that crowd the outside surface of life. + +[Sidenote: To write convincingly one needs Sympathy] + +To be able to write convincingly about people, we must know them; to +know them we must live among them, and sympathise with them--for there +is no other way to know and understand the human heart. It is very easy +to ridicule people's weakness, and make cheap sarcasm over their +failings; but it is useless to make your observations with a cynic's +smile. The cynic really gets nowhere; he merely robs life of much of its +beauty, giving nothing in its place. + +To write about people so that we grip the hearts of all who read, it is +necessary to look beyond the superficial weaknesses, and below the +temporary failings, to that part of humanity that still bears the image +of the Divine Creator. And you need sympathy to accomplish this. + +Would-be authors often tell me that they are sick of their everyday +routine--office work, teaching, nursing, home duties, or whatever it may +be--and long to throw it all up so that they may devote all their time +to writing. + +[Sidenote: To know People, we must Live and Work among them] + +But you cannot devote all of your time to writing! The beginner never +understands this. A great deal of an author's time is taken up with the +study of people, and a general quest for material for his books. + +While you are in the early stages of your writing, it is absolutely +necessary for you that you should be doing some sort of other work in +company with your fellow-creatures, and experiencing the ordinary +routine of life, else how can you possibly get your writing properly +balanced and true to life? + +If you try to isolate yourself from the everyday happenings of normal +existence, avoiding the tiresome duties and the irksome routine, merely +keeping your eyes on your MS., or on yourself, or on only the things +that appeal to you, how can you ever expect your work to be in right +perspective? Under such conditions what you write would be bound to give +an incomplete, incorrect view of life, one-sided, and out of all proper +proportion, and--the result could be nothing but a dire failure. + +Stay where you are, and make your corner of the universe your special +study. + +[Sidenote: How much do you Know of those who are Nearest to You?] + +Perhaps you think you know everything that is to be known about people +around you. But do you, I wonder? Do they know everything about +you--your ideals and inner struggles, and aims and aspirations? + +I doubt it. + +Experience shows that very often the people we know least of all are +those with whom we come into daily contact. We take them for granted. We +do not even trouble to try to understand them. That they should have +doubts and difficulties, heart-aches and hopes and high aspirations, +even as we have, sometimes comes as a surprise to us. + +Begin your observations just where you are now. See if you can find the +glint of gold that is always somewhere below the surface in every human +being, if we can but strike the right place. Try to sort out the reasons +and the motives that are thick in the air around you. See if you can +discern another side to a person's character than the one you have +always accepted as a matter of course. + +And write down your discoveries and your observations. You will need +them later on. + +Here, then, is the first step in training yourself for authorship. It is +only one step, I admit; but you will find it can be made to cover a good +deal of ground. + + + + +PART THREE + +THE HELP THAT BOOKS CAN GIVE + + + Steady, quiet, consecutive reading is necessary if we are + to do steady quiet, consecutive thinking; and, without such + thinking, it is impossible for writers to produce anything + worth while. + + + + +The Bane of "Browsing" + + +While a wide range of reading, and a general all-round knowledge of +standard literature are essential, if you hope to become a writer, there +are three directions in which you can specialise with great +advantage--reading for definite data, reading for style, and reading for +the study of technique, _i.e._ to find out how the author does it. + +With such matters as reading for recreation we have nothing to do here. +Training for authorship means work, regular work, stiff mental work. + +Some amateurs seem to think that a course of desultory dipping into +books is a guarantee of literary efficiency, or an indication of +literary ability. + +"I am never so happy as when I am curled up in an armchair surrounded by +books"; or "I do so love to browse among books," girls will tell me, +when they are asking if I can find them a post in my office, or on the +staff of one of my magazines. + +It is so difficult for the uninitiated to understand that the business +of writing and making books is one that entails as much close, +monotonous work as any other business; and the mere fact that any one +spends a certain amount of time in reading a bit here and a bit there, +picking up a book for a half-hour's entertainment and throwing it down +the minute it ceases to stimulate the curiosity, is no more preparation +for literary work than an occasional tinkling at a piano, trying a few +bars here and there of chance compositions, would be any preparation for +giving a pianoforte recital or composing a sonata. + +[Sidenote: Nature's Revenge for the Misuse of the Brain] + +I have nothing to say against dipping into books as a +recreation--refreshing one's memory among old friends, or looking for +happy discoveries in new-comers--I have passed hosts of pleasant +half-hours in this way myself when my brain was too tired to work, and I +wanted relaxation. But such reading is not work; neither is it training +in any sort of sense--it is merely a pastime; and, as such, must only be +taken in moderation. It should be the exception, not a habit. + +If you allow yourself to get into this way of haphazard reading, in time +you lose the ability to do any consecutive reading, and, as a natural +consequence, it would be utterly impossible for you to do any +consecutive thinking,--an essential for connected writing. + +The reason for this is quite clear, if you think it over. When you +persistently skim a legion of books, or dip into them casually, and live +mentally on a diet of snippets--a form of reading that has been the +vogue of late years--you are giving yourself mental indigestion that is +wonderfully akin to the indigestion that would follow a food diet on +similar lines. If your meals always consisted of snacks taken at all +sorts of odd times--fried fish followed by rich chocolates, with a +nibble at a mince tart, a few spoonfuls of preserved ginger, a trifle of +roast duck, some macaroni cheese, a little salmon and cucumber, some +grouse, oyster patties, and ice-cream on top of that--your stomach +wouldn't know what to do with it all, and---- I need say no more about +it! + +In the same way, when you read first one thing and then another, piling +poems on love scenes, then adding a motley, disconnected selection of +scraps of information (of doubtful use in most cases) with sensational +episodes and pessimistic outpourings, irrespective of any sort of +sequence or logical connection, your mind doesn't know what to do with +the conglomeration; for no sooner has your thinking machine set one +series of thoughts in motion, than it has to switch off that current +and start on something else. Eventually the brain gives up the struggle; +the thoughts cease to work; you lose the power to remember--much less to +assimilate--what you read. + +In the end, you can't read! Nature is bound to take this course in sheer +self-defence; the only alternative would be lunacy! + +[Sidenote: Why so many want Books that Shriek] + +You can see all this exemplified, pitifully, in the present day. With +the great rush of cheap books (and still cheaper education) that flooded +the country at the beginning of this century, the masses simply gorged +themselves with indiscriminate reading-matter--of a sort, (and so did +many who ought to have known better). Gradually they lost the taste for +straight-forward simple stories of human life as it really is; things +had to be blood-curdling and highly sensational. The type of +reading-matter that had formerly been associated solely with the "dime +novel" and depraved youths of the criminal class, found its way into all +sorts and conditions of bindings, and all sorts and conditions of homes. +People's minds were getting so blunted that they simply could not follow +anything unless it was punctuated with lurid lights; they could not +grasp anything unless it was crude and bizarre and monstrous; they +could not hear anything of the Still Small Voice that is the essence of +all beauty in literature, art or nature. Everything had to be in shouts +and shrieks to arrest their attention. + +Finally, the masses lost the power to read at all, and we are now living +in an age when everything must be presented in the most obvious +medium--pictures. Few people can concentrate on reading even the day's +news--it has to be given in pictures. The picture-palace and the +music-hall _revue_ (which is another form of spectacular entertainment) +stand for the mental stimulus that is the utmost a large bulk of the +population are equal to to-day. + +We delude ourselves by saying that we live in such a busy age, we have +not _time_ to read. But it is not our lack of time so much as our lack +of brain power that is the trouble; and that brain power has been +dissipated, primarily, by over-indulgence in desultory reading that was +valueless. + +All this is to explain why a course of indiscriminate "browsing" is no +recommendation for the one who wishes to take up literary work. Steady, +quiet, consecutive reading is necessary if we are to do steady, quiet, +consecutive thinking; and, without such thinking, it is impossible to +write anything worth whiles. + +Let your reading extend over a wide range, certainly--the wider the +better, so long as you can cover the ground thoroughly--for an author +should be well-read. But take care that you do _read_; don't mistake +"nibbling" for reading. Far better know but one poem of Browning +thoroughly and understandingly, than have on your shelves a complete set +of his works into which you dip at random, when the mood seizes you, +with no clear idea as to what any of it is about. + + + + +Reading for Definite Data + + +Turning from reading in general to the specialised reading I have +suggested--the first heading explains itself. Many subjects that you +write upon will require a certain amount of preliminary reading--some a +great deal--in order that you may accumulate facts, or get the details +of climate and scenery correct, or the mode of life prevalent at a +specified time. + +Such a book as Mrs. Florence Barclay's novel, _The White Ladies of +Worcester_--with the scene laid in the twelfth century--must have +necessitated a great deal of research among the historical and church +records of that era, and the reading of books bearing on that period, in +order to get all the details accurate, and to conjure up as convincingly +as the author has done, an all-pervading feeling of the spirit of those +times. + +All stories dealing with a bygone period require much preliminary +reading, in order that one may become imbued with the spirit of that +particular age, as well as familiarised with its manners and customs and +mode of speech. + +Most amateurs seem to think that a plentiful sprinkling of expletives +about the pages, with the introduction of a few historic names and +events, are sufficient to produce the required old-world atmosphere. I +could not possibly count the number of MSS. I have read where the rival +suitor for the hand of "Mistress Joan" says "Gadsook" in every other +sentence, while the estimable young man who, like her father, is loyal +to the king, is hidden away in the secret-panel room. + +But tricks such as these do not give the story an authentic atmosphere. +You can only get this by systematic study of the literature relating to +the period. + +And others, besides novelists, find it advantageous to study historical +records. I remember when Mr. William Canton (the author of those +charming studies of child life, _W. V._, _Her Book_, and _The Invisible +Playmate_) was engaged on the big history of the British and Foreign +Bible Society, and was writing the account of the Society's Bible work +in Italy, not only did he read all their official reports, and the +correspondence bearing on the subject, but, in order to get the work in +its right perspective as regards the events of the times, he re-read +Italian history for the period he was dealing with. Thus he enabled +himself to gauge much more comprehensively the significance of the Bible +Society's work in that country when viewed in relation to national +happenings, public thought, and the attitude of mind of the Italian +people. + +[Sidenote: Preliminary Reading helps you to judge the Worth of your +Information] + +The writer of articles or books on general subjects (as distinct from +fiction) must obviously do a good deal of research. And such reading for +definite information has one value that is not always recognised by the +amateur--it may let him know whether it is worth while to write the +article at all! + +Suppose, for example, that you have decided to write an article on "The +Evolution of the Chimney-Pot." It is a foregone conclusion that you +think you have a certain amount of exclusive information in your own +head about chimney-pots, else there would be no call for you to write on +this subject, since the public does not want articles containing nothing +more than what has been published already. + +You have collected some facts and information about chimney-pots, +however, that you think are interesting and quite new. So far, good. +Nevertheless, you will be wise to ascertain what has already been +written on the subject; it may throw fresh light on your own gleanings. + +First, you will probably look up the subject in a good +encyclopaedia--failing one of your own, consult one at a public library. +If there is anything at all under this heading, it is just possible +there may be cross-references that will be useful, and allusions to +other works on the subject, which it would be well for you to get hold +of if you can. Then you will also remember that Ruskin has written "A +Chapter on Chimneys" in his _Poetry of Architecture_, with some +delightful illustrations. And in the course of your explorations, some +one may be able to direct you to other works on the subject, one book so +often leads on to another. In this way you find you are absorbing quite +a large amount of interesting information. + +Yet presently you may make the very important discovery that what you +were intending to say has already been said by others, and possibly said +in a better and more authoritative manner than you could pretend to at +present! + +On the other hand, you may still consider that you have exclusive +information; in that case do your best with it, and you will find your +reading has given you a quickened interest and wider grasp of your +subject. But if, in absolute honesty to yourself, you know you have +nothing new to contribute to the information that has already been +published, then do not attempt to offer your article for publication. +Write it up, by all means, as a journalistic exercise for your own +improvement; it will be helpful if you try how far you can seize, and +sum up concisely, the important points that you came across in your +various readings on the subject. _But don't attempt to pass off writing +of this description as original matter._ Such methods never get you far. + +Even though the Editor may not have studied chimney-pots in detail, and +does not recognise that your "copy" is practically a _rechauffe_ of +other people's writings, some of the readers will know that it contains +nothing original, and will lose no time in telling him so. There is one +cheery thing about the public, no matter how busy it may be with its own +personal affairs, and preoccupied with a war, or labour troubles, a +Presidential election, or little trifles like that, it most faithfully +keeps an Editor informed if anything printed in his pages does not meet +with its entire approval! + +And when an Editor finds he has been taken in with stale material, he +naturally marks that contributor for future remembrance. + +It is well to bear in mind that one of the most valuable assets in a +writer's outfit is a reputation for absolute reliability. Smart +practice, trickery, clever dodges, may get a hearing once, even +twice--but they have no future whatever. + +Let it become a recognised thing that whatever you offer for publication +is new matter resulting from your own personal knowledge and +investigation, and matter that is sure to interest a section of the +general public; that you have verified every detail, and have +ascertained, to the best of your ability, that the subject has not been +dealt with in this particular way before;--then you are sure of a place +somewhere in a mild atmosphere, if not actually in the sun! + +Also, common sense should tell you that you are checking the development +of your own ability, when you let yourself down (no less than the +publisher) by trying to pass off other people's brain-work as your own. +It doesn't pay either way. + + + + +Reading for Style + + +Reading for the improvement of style will involve various types of +literature. In order to know what you should read, you need to know in +which particular direction you are weakest. In the main, however, I find +that all amateurs require to cultivate-- + + 1. A simple, clear, direct mode of expression. + 2. Modern language and idiom--in the best sense. + 3. A wide vocabulary. + 4. An ear for musical, rhythmic sentences. + +And equally they need to avoid-- + + 1. Other people's mannerisms. + 2. Long paragraphs and involved sentences. + 3. Pedantry and a display of personal learning. + 4. Hackneyed phrases. + 5. Modern slang. + +You may not be able to detect any corresponding weaknesses in your own +writings; but, if you have had no special training in literary work, I +can safely assure you they are there--some of them, possibly all of +them! In any case, no particular harm will result if you assume that +your writing will stand a little improvement under each of these +headings, and start to work accordingly. + +[Sidenote: The Beginner Seldom uses Simple, Modern English] + +In the first chapter I mentioned a lack of modernity in style as a +frequent defect in the MSS. declined by publishers; unless you handled +stories and articles all day long as an editor does you would never +credit how widespread is the failing. + +It is a curious fact that only a very small proportion of people can +write as they actually speak; those who do so usually belong to the +poorest of the uneducated classes, or they are experienced literary +craftsmen. + +The large majority of people are so self-conscious when they take pen in +hand to write a story or an article, that they cannot be natural. They +do not realise that they should write as ordinary human beings; they +invariably feel they should write as famous authors; and they promptly +drop the language they use as ordinary human beings in every-day life, +and adopt an artificial, stilted style which they seem to think the +correct thing for an author. + +And this artificial phraseology is invariably archaic or Early +Victorian, because the books people see labelled "good literature" or +"the classics" are chiefly by dead-and-gone writers, who wrote in a +style that sometimes sounds old-fashioned in these days, even though +their English was excellent. + +[Sidenote: Every Generation shows Special Characteristics of Speech] + +Our mode of speech and of writing in this twentieth century is not +precisely that of Shakespeare or Milton, even though the fundamentals +are the same. We live in a nervous, hurrying age, and our language is +more nervous, more terse than it was even twenty years ago. We "speed +up" our sentences, just as we "speed up" our stories and our articles. +We have not time for lengthy introductions that arrive nowhere, and for +ornate perorations that are superfluous. "Labour-saving" and +"conservation of energy" are prominent watchwords of this present age, +and are being applied to our language no less than to our work. + +In order to get through all we must get through in a day (or, at any +rate, all that we imagine we must get through!) it has become an +unwritten law that the same thing must not be done twice over; more than +this, we try to find the shortest cut to everywhere. As one result, we +do not use two words where one will suffice; only the undisciplined, +untrained mind employs a string of adjectives where one will convey the +same idea, or repeats practically the same thing several times in +succession. + +Of course, all this curtailment can be--and often is--carried to excess, +till only a few essential words are left in a sentence, and these are +clipped of half their syllables; we find much of this in the newspapers +and the periodicals of an inferior class. And it could be pushed so far, +till at length we got to communicate with one another by nothing more +than a series of grunts and snaps and snarls! + +[Sidenote: Modernity of Style is Desirable] + +But I am not dealing with the forms of speech used by the illiterate or +the half-educated; I am referring to the language used by the most +intelligent of the educated classes, and I want the amateur to remember +that this is not necessarily the language of Shakespeare, even though +the same words be employed. There is a subtle difference in the +placement of words, in the turn of phrases, in the strength and even the +meaning of words, in the shaping of sentences, and that difference is +what, for want of a better word, I term "modernity," and it is a +quality that the amateur requires to cultivate. + +This lack of modernity is noticeable in amateurs of all types. It is a +marked feature in the writings of teachers and those who have had a +university education, or purely academic training; and equally it is +conspicuous in the MSS. of the one who leads a very quiet, retired +existence, or has a restricted view of life. + +At first sight it may seem strange to the 'varsity girl, who considers +herself the last word in modernity, that I classify her early literary +attempts with those of a middle-aged invalid, let us say, who knows very +little of the world at large. + +But those who concentrate exclusively on one idea, or have their outlook +narrowed to one particular groove--whether that groove be church-work, +or housekeeping, or hockey, or reading for a degree--drop into an +antiquated mode of expression, as a rule, the moment they start to write +anything apart from a letter to an intimate. The role of author looms +large before them. The mind instantly suggests the style of those +authors they have been in the habit of reading--and more particularly +those they would like other people to think they were in the habit of +reading--the books that are accepted classics, and, consequently, must +be beyond all question. + +It matters not whether amateurs are shaping themselves according to +Cowper and Miss Edgeworth, or striving to live up to the Elizabethan +giants, they arrive at an old-fashioned style for which there is no more +call in the world of to-day than there is for a crinoline or a Roman +toga. And this, despite the greatness of their models. + +Here are a few sentences taken at random from the pile of MSS. waiting +attention here in my office:-- + +[Sidenote: Instances of Antiquated Expressions] + +"Let us ponder awhile at the shrine of Nature." This is from an article +on "A Country Walk," written by a High School teacher. Now, would she +have said that, personally, either to a friend or to a class, if they +were going out for a country walk? Of course not! You see at once how +antiquated and stilted it is when you subject it to the test of natural, +present-day requirements. + +In another MS. I read, "King Sol was seeking his couch in the west." Why +not have said, "The sun was setting"? + +"He was her senior by some two summers," writes a would-be novelist, in +describing hero and heroine. Why "some" two summers, I wonder? And +would it not be more straightforward to say, "He was two years older +than she"? + +"They were of respectable parentage, though poor and hard-working +withal." Needless to say this occurs in a story of rustic life. Why is +it that the amateur so often describes the cottager in this "poor but +pious" strain? + +"We saw ahead of us her home--to wit, a rose-grown, yellow-washed +cottage." And a very pretty home it was, no doubt; but why spoil it by +the introduction of "to wit"? + +"He was indeed a meet lover for such an up-to-date girl." The word +"meet" is not merely antiquated and unsuited to a story of present-day +life; it seems particularly out of place when used in close connection +with so modern a term as "up-to-date." The two expressions are centuries +apart, and both should not have been included in the same sentence. + +One MS. says, "I would fain tell you of the devious ways in which the +poor girl strove to earn an honest livelihood and keep penury at bay; +but, alas! dear reader, space does not avail." On the whole, one is +thankful that it didn't avail, all things considered! + +In a letter accompanying another MS. the author explains, "You won't +find any slang in _my_ writing. I revel in the rich sonority of the +English language." That is all right; but some people confuse "rich +sonority" with artificiality. A word may be richness itself if rightly +applied, but if used in a wrong connection, or employed in an affected +or unnatural manner, it will lose all its richness and become merely +old-fashioned, or else absurd. + +I have not the space to spare for further instances, but I notice one +phrase that is curiously popular with the beginner, who frequently lets +you know the name of some character in these words, "Mary Jones, for +such was her name----" etc. I cannot understand what is the charm of +that expression, "for such was her name"; but it is one of the amateurs' +many stand-bys. + +Common sense will tell you that the surest way to gain a good modern +style is to read good modern stuff. + +[Sidenote: And now for a Remedy] + +Begin with a special study of the Editorials in the best type of +newspapers. This is reading that I strongly advocate for the amateur in +order to counteract archaic tendencies; though I wish emphatically to +point out that by the "Leading Articles" I do not mean the average +"Woman's Gossip," or whatever other name is given to the column of +inanities that is devoted to feminine topics; for in some newspapers +this is about as futile and feeble, and as badly written as it is +possible for a newspaper column to be. + +Unfortunately, the average person does not read the best part of the +newspaper. He, and more particularly she, reads the headlines, skims the +news, and runs the eye over anything that specially appeals, looks down +the Births, Marriages and Deaths, and not much more. But this will not +improve anyone's English. + +Take a paper like the _Spectator_. Here you have modern journalistic +writing at its best. Read the Leading Articles carefully each week. Read +also the paragraphs summarising the news on the opening pages. + +Read aloud, if you can; this will help to impress phrases and sentences +on your mind. Observe how clear and concise and straightforward is the +style. Of course, the articles will vary; they are not all written by +the same pen; but those that follow immediately after the news +paragraphs are always worth the student's attention. You will notice +that the writer has something definite to say, and he says it plainly, +in a way that is instantly understood. The words used will be to the +point; there will be a good choice of language, yet never an +unnecessary piling on of words. You may, or may not, agree with +everything that is said; but that is not of paramount importance at the +moment, as in this case you are reading in order to acquire a clear, +easy style of writing rather than to gain special information. +Nevertheless, you will be enlarging your mental outlook considerably. + +In the same way, study the Editorials in any of the daily or weekly +papers of high standing and reputation, avoiding the papers of the +"sensational snippet" order. You will soon get to recognise whether the +style is good or poor. + +The _British Weekly_ (London) is celebrated for its literary quality. It +will be a gain if you read regularly the article on the front page, and +"The Correspondence of Claudius Clear," which is a feature every week. + +This is to start you on a course of reading that will give modernity to +your style, and help to rid you of the antiquated expressions and +mannerisms that are so noticeable in amateur work. + +Mere "newspaper reading" may seem to you a disappointing beginning to +the programme. "The newspaper is read by everybody every day," you may +tell me, "and what has it done for their style?" + +But I am not advocating that type of "newspaper reading." This isn't a +question of reading some murder case, or imbibing the exhilarating +information that some one met Mrs. Blank on Fifth Avenue the other day, +and she looked sweet in a pale blue hat. + +Leave all that part of the paper severely alone. Study the Editorials as +you would study a book, since the writings of first-class journalists +are excellent models for the amateur, a fact that is curiously +overlooked by the student. Read a fixed amount each day, instead of +relying on a haphazard picking up of a paper and a careless glance over +its contents. Then, as a useful exercise, take the subject-matter of a +paragraph, or an article, and see how _you_ would have treated it; try +if you can improve on it (after all, most things in this world can be +improved upon if the right person does the improving). You will be +surprised to find how interesting a study this will become in a very +little while. + +Do not misunderstand me: I am not advocating newspaper reading _in +place_ of classical works, but as a necessary and valuable addition to a +writer's literary studies. + + + + +The Need for Enlarging the Vocabulary + + +Equal in importance to the cultivation of a modern style in writing, is +the necessity for having a wide selection of words at your command, and +a keen sense of their value. Some people think the chief thing in +writing is to have ideas in one's head. Ideas are essential, but they +are not everything. Your brain may be crammed full of the most wonderful +ideas, but they will be useless if they get no farther than your brain. + +It is one thing to see things yourself, and quite another to be able to +make an absent person see them. + +It is one thing to receive impressions in your own mind from your +surroundings, or as the product of imagination, and quite another to +record those impressions in black and white. + +Tens of thousands of people are conscious of vivid mental pictures, for +one who is able to reproduce them in such a form that they become vivid +pictures to others. And one reason for the inability of the majority to +express their thoughts in writing is the paucity of their vocabulary, +and their lack of the power to put words together in a convincing and +accurate manner. + +Girls often write to me, "I think such wonderful things in my brain; I'm +sure I could write a book, if only people would give me a little +encouragement," or, "if only I had time." + +But if they had all the encouragement and all the time in the world, +they could not transfer those wonderful thoughts from their brain to +paper unless they had practice, the right words at their command, and +the experience that comes from hard regular working at the subject. + +What people do not realise is this: wonderful thoughts are surging +through thousands of brains. They are fairly common _inside_ people's +heads; the difficulty is in getting them out of the head--as most of us +soon find out when we start to write! I shall refer to this later on. + +If you wish to write down your thoughts--no matter whether they are +concerned with the emotions, or religion, or nature, or cookery--you +must employ words; and the more subtle, or elevated, or complex the +subject-matter of your thoughts, the greater need will there be for a +wide choice of words, in order to express exactly the various grades +and shades of meaning that will be involved. + +If your vocabulary be small--_i.e._ if you only know the average words +used by the average person--there is every chance that your writings +will be flat and colourless, and no more interesting, or exciting, or +instructive, or entertaining than the ordinary conversation of the +average person. + +Hence the necessity for enlarging your vocabulary, so that you have the +utmost variety to choose from in the way of suitable words, expressive +words, and beautiful words, (this last the modern amateur is apt to +overlook). + +[Sidenote: The Average Person's Vocabulary is Meagre] + +The smallness of the vocabulary used by the average person to-day is +partly due to the mass of feeble reading-matter with which the country +was flooded in the years immediately preceding the War. + +In addition to this, life had become very easy for the majority of folk +in recent times; money was supposed to be life's sole requisite. Work of +all kinds was "put out" as much as possible; we shirked physical labour; +lessons were made as easy as they could be; games were played for us by +professionals while we looked on; effort of every sort was distasteful +to us. It has been said, that as a nation we were becoming flabby and +inert, and were fast drifting into an exceedingly lazy, commonplace +mental attitude. We boasted that we couldn't think (even though with +many this was merely a pose); we seemed quite proud of ourselves when we +proclaimed our indifference to all serious reading, and our inability to +understand anything. + +That pre-War period, given over to money-worship, not only curtailed our +choice of words by its all-pervading tendency to mind-laziness, but it +had its vulgarising effect upon our language, just as it had upon our +dress, our mode of living, and our amusements. + +[Sidenote: The dull Monotony of English Slang] + +Not only did we cease to take the trouble to speak correctly, but we +almost ceased to be lucid! We made one word--slang or otherwise--do duty +in scores of places where its introduction was either senseless or +idiotic, rather than exert our minds to find the correct word for each +occasion. Many people appeared to think that the use of slang was not +only "smart," but quite clever; whereas nothing more surely indicates a +poor order of intelligence. + +My chief objection to a constant use of slang is not because it is +outside the pale of classical English, but because it is so ineffective +and feeble. + +As a rule, slang words and phrases are, in the main, pointless and weak, +for the simple reason that we use one word for every occasion when it +happens to be the craze; and before long it comes to means nothing at +all, even if it chanced to mean anything at the start--which it seldom +does. + +Our grandmothers objected to their own set using slang on the ground +that it was "unladylike." The modern girl smiles at the term. "Who +desires to be 'ladylike'?" inquires the advanced young person of to-day. +Yet our grandmothers were right fundamentally; with their generation, +the word "lady" implied a woman of education, intelligence, and +refinement. The user of slang is the person who lacks these +qualifications; she has neither the wit nor the knowledge to employ a +better and more expressive selection of words. + +[Sidenote: Slang indicates Ignorance] + +Slang indicates, not advanced ideas, but ignorance--any parrot can +repeat an expression, it takes a clever person always to use the right +word. + +Many people who constantly employ any word that happens to be current, +do not really know what they are saying, neither do they attach any +weight to their words; they merely repeat some inanity, because they +have not the brains to say anything more intelligent, or they are too +indolent to use what brains they have. + +Notice how a set of big schoolgirls will, at one time, use the word +"putrid," let us say, and apply it to everything, from a broken +shoe-lace to examinations. And women will call everything "dinkie," or +"ducky," or something equally enlightening and artistic, working the +word all day long until it is ousted by another senseless expression. + +What power of comparison has a girl, such as one I met recently, who, in +the course of ten minutes described a hat as "awf'ly niffy," a man as +"awf'ly sweet," a mountain as "awf'ly rippin'," and another girl as an +"awful cat"? + +What does it all amount to, this perversion of legitimate words or +introduction of meaningless ones? Nothing--actually nothing. That is the +pity of it. If these "ornaments of conversation" enabled one to grasp a +point better, to see things more clearly, or to arrive at a conclusion +more rapidly, I, for one, would gladly welcome them, as I welcome +anything that will save time and labour. But, unfortunately, they only +tend to dwarf the intelligence and to lessen the value of our speech. + +I have enlarged on the undesirability of slang, because many amateurs +think it will give brilliance, or smartness, or up-to-date-ness to their +work. But it doesn't. It obscures rather than brightens; it tends to +monotony instead of smartness. The beginner will be wise to avoid it, +unless it is required legitimately in recording the conversation of a +slangy person. + +[Sidenote: Some Books that will Enlarge your Vocabulary] + +To enlarge your selection of words, you must read books of the +essay type rather than fiction, as these usually give the widest +range of English. Two authors stand out above all others in this +connection--Ruskin and R.L. Stevenson. Both men had an extraordinary +instinct for the right word on all occasions--the word that expressed +exactly the idea each wished to convey. + +Read some of Stevenson's essays slowly and carefully. Don't gobble them! +You want to impress the words, and the connection in which they are +used, on your mind. It is an effort to most of us to read slowly in +these hustling times; yet nothing but deliberate, careful reading will +serve to teach the correct use of words and their approximate values. +And I need not remind you to look up in a dictionary the meaning of any +word that is new to you. + +Ruskin's _Sesame and Lilies_ you will have read many times, I hope; if +not, get it as soon as ever you can. His _Poetry of Architecture_ will +make a useful study; also _Queen of the Air_ and _Praeterita_ (his own +biography). His larger works, while containing innumerable passages of +great beauty, are so often overweighted with technical details and +principles of art (some quite out-of-date now) that they become tedious +at times. Yet there is so much in all of his writings to enlarge your +working-list of words, that you will benefit by reading any of his +books. + +Among present-day writers I particularly recommend Sir A. Quiller-Couch, +Dr. Charles W. Eliot; Dr. A.C. Benson, Dr. Edmund Gosse, Coulson +Kernahan, and Augustine Birrell, whose volumes of essays will not only +enlarge your vocabulary, but will prove particularly instructive in +suggesting the right placing of words, and in giving you a correct +feeling for their value. + +Of course this does not exhaust the list of authors with commendable +vocabularies; but it gives you something to start on. + +[Sidenote: It is the Value of a Word, not Its Unusuality, that Counts] + +Notice that the writers I have suggested do not necessarily use +extraordinary words, or uncommon words, or very long-syllabled words, +or ponderous and learned words. One great charm of their writings lies +in the fact that they invariably use the word that is exactly right, the +word that conveys better than any other word the thought or sensation +they wished to convey. Sometimes it is an unusual word; sometimes it is +a familiar word used in an unfamiliar connection; but in most cases you +feel that the word used could not have been bettered--it sums up +precisely, and conveys to your mind instantly, the thought that was in +the author's mind. + +Many amateurs fall into the error of thinking that an uncommon word, or +a long word, or a word with an imposing sound, gives style to their +writings, and they despise the simple words, considering them +common-place. I heard an old clergyman in a small country church explain +to the congregation, in the course of a sermon, that the words "mixed +multitude" meant "an heterogeneous conglomeration"; but I think his +rustic audience understood the simple Bible words better than they did +his explanatory notes. + +I remember seeing an examination paper, wherein a student had +paraphrased the line-- + + "The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea," + +as, "The bellowing cattle are meandering tardily over the neglected, +untilled meadow land." + +This is an instance of the wrong word being used in nearly every case; +and as a complete sentence it would have been difficult to construct +anything, on the same lines, that conveyed less the feeling Gray wished +to convey when he wrote the poem! + +Good writing is not dependent upon long or ornate or unusual words; it +is the outcome of a constant use of the right word--the word that best +conveys the author's idea. + +If there be a choice between a complex word and a simple word, use the +simple one. + +Remember that the object of writing is not the covering of so much blank +paper, nor the stringing together of syllables; it is the transference +from the author's brain to other people's brains of certain thoughts and +situations and sensations. And the best writing is that which conveys, +by the simplest and most direct means, the clearest reproduction of the +author's ideas. + + + + +The Charm of Musical Language + + +There is a very special and distinct charm about literature that is +musical to the ear--words that are euphonious, phrases that are +rhythmic, sentences that rise and fall with definite cadence. + +Unfortunately, the twentieth century, so far, has been primarily +concerned with the making of noise rather than music. Even before the +War, we lived in a welter of hideous jarring sound, to which every +single department of life has added its quota. Outdoors the vehicles +honk and rattle and roar; in business life the clack and whirr of +machinery drowns all else; in the home doors are banged, voices are +raised to a raucous pitch, children are permitted to shout and clatter +about at all times and seasons--indeed, it is the exception rather than +the rule, nowadays, to find a quiet-mannered, well-ordered household. + +When Strauss put together his sound monstrosities, which he misnamed +music, he was only echoing the general noise-chaos that had taken +possession of the universe, permeating art and literature no less than +everyday life. The nightmares of the cubists and futurists were merely +undisciplined blatancy and harshness rendered in colour instead of in +sound, and were further demonstrations of the crudity to which a nation +is bound to revert when it wilfully discards the finer things of the +soul in a mad pursuit of money. + +[Sidenote: Sound--Refined and Otherwise] + +The sounds produced by a people are invariably a direct indication of +the degree of their refinement; the greater the blare and clamour +attendant upon their doings, and the more harsh and uncultivated their +speaking voices, the less their innate refinement. + +Bearing all this in mind, it is easy to understand why so much of our +modern literature became tainted with the same sound-harshness that had +smitten life as a whole. Some writers would not take the trouble to be +musical; some maintained that there was no necessity to be melodious; +some regarded beauty of sound as synonymous with weakness; others--and +these were in the majority--had lost all sense of word-music and the +captivating quality of rhythm. And yet few things make a greater or a +more general appeal to the reader. + +[Sidenote: The Dangers of the "Rough-hewn" Method] + +There is no doubt but what the idea that rough, unpolished work stood +for strength, while carefully-finished work implied weakness, was due to +the fact that several of our great thinkers adopted the "rough-hewn" +method. Such men as Carlyle and Browning were sometimes irritatingly +discordant and unshapely in style--occasionally giving the idea, as a +first impression, that their words were shovelled together irrespective +of sound or sense. + +Said the lesser lights, "This seems a very easy way to do it! And they +are undoubtedly great men. Why shouldn't we do likewise? It must save a +deal of trouble!" + +But there is one difficulty that we lesser lights are always up against: +whereas genius, in its own line, can do anything it likes, in any way it +likes, and the result will be of value to the world, those of us who are +not in the front rank of greatness cannot work regardless of all laws +and traditions; or, if we do, our work is not worth much. It was not +that Carlyle and Browning were permitted to write regardless of laws and +traditions because they were great; certainly not. They were great +because they could write regardless of laws and traditions, and yet +write what was of value to the world. So few of us can do that. + +Parenthetically, I am not saying that Browning was never musical; the +lyrics in _Paracelsus_, for instance, are beautiful; but often he went +to the other extreme. + +It no more follows that beautiful language is weak, than that uncouth +language is strong. The rough and often clumsy phraseology sometimes +used by the two men I have named was their weakness; and the fact that +the world was willing to accept the way they often said things, for the +sake of what they had to say, is an immense tribute to the worth of +their ideas. + +[Sidenote: To use Pleasing Language is Good Policy] + +There are invariably two ways of saying the same thing, and, all else +being equal, it is more advantageous to say what we have to say in a +pleasant rather than an unpleasant manner. We know the wisdom of this in +everyday life; equally it is the best policy in writing. + +I could name books that are moderately thin in subject-matter and yet +have had a large sale, and this, primarily, because of the charm of +their style and the music of their language. + +While there should be ideas behind all that is written, if those ideas +are presented in language that captivates the ear, the book has a double +chance, since it will appeal through two channels instead of only +one--the ear as well as the mind. + +It must never be forgotten that the object of our reading is +sometimes--very often, indeed--recreation and recuperation. We are not +always seeking information; the mind is not always equal to profound or +involved thought; but it is always susceptible to beauty and harmony (or +it should be, if we keep it in a healthy condition, and do not damage it +with injurious mental food). And whether we are seeking information or +recreation, there is a great fascination in reading matter that has +rhythm, melody, and balance in its sentences. + +I consider that the power to write on these lines is very largely a +matter of training. Though, obviously, some ears are more keenly alive +than others to the comparative values of sound, and some are born with a +certain instinct for good expression, there is no doubt but what +practice will do much to induce a graceful, melodious style of writing, +and study will help us to detect these qualities in the works of others. + +[Sidenote: Write Verse if you want to Write Good Prose] + +With regard to training: I strongly advise those who aim for a good +prose style to practise writing verse. When you start, you will probably +find that your early attempts are nothing more than a series of lines +with jingling rhymes at stated intervals. + +Nevertheless, even such productions as these are of definite use in your +training. You have had to find words that rhymed. You have had to +compress your ideas within a set limit; this in itself is a check on the +long-winded wandering tendencies of the amateur. You have had to +consider the respective weight of syllables--which is worth an accent, +and which is not, and so on. In short, you have had to give some +discriminating thought to what you were writing, and how you were +writing it, and that is what the beginner so seldom does. He more often +sits down and goes on and on and on--words, words, words--with no +feeling for their respective values, or the proportion of the sentences +and incidents as a whole. + +Viscount Morley, in his _Recollections_, writes: "At Cheltenham College, +I tried my hand at a prize poem on Cassandra; it did not come near the +prize, and I was left with the master's singular consolation, for an +aspiring poet, that my verse showed many of the elements of a sound +prose style." + +But the master's consolation was not so singular after all. It is quite +possible for one to write verse that may be excellent training for +prose writing, and yet that is not poetry in the most exclusive sense of +the word. + +[Sidenote: Read Poetry Aloud to Cultivate a Sense of Musical Language] + +In addition to writing verse, I urge all students who wish to cultivate +a sense of music in their writing to read good poetry, and, whenever +possible, to read it aloud. + +When reading aloud, the ear helps as well as the eye; whereas, when +reading silently, the eye is apt to run on faster than the ear is +able--mentally--to take in the sounds; and you are bound to miss some of +the finer shades of movement and melody. When you say the words aloud, +the sound and the beat of the syllables are more likely to be impressed +upon your mind. + +You cannot do better than Tennyson to begin with--one of the most +musical of our poets. Read "The Lotos-Eaters," the lyrics in "The +Princess," "The Lady of Shallott," "Come into the Garden, Maud." In "The +Idylls," and "In Memoriam," are many exquisite passages. Read +"Guinevere," and "The Passing of Arthur," for example, noting the lines +that are conspicuous for their charm of wording, or balance, or sound. + +Turning to other writers: I select a few instances at random, and am +only naming well-known poems that are within the reach of most +students:-- + +Christina Rossetti: The chant of the mourners, at the end of "The +Prince's Progress," beginning "Too late for love," is worth reading many +times. + +Jean Ingelow has, in a marked degree, a musical quality in her verse +which compensates in some measure for its slightness. Her habit of +repeating a word often gives a lilt and a cadence to her lines that is +very pleasing, as for instance in "Echo and the Ferry," and "Songs of +Seven." As an example by another poet, this repetition of a word is used +with delightful effect in "Sherwood," by Alfred Noyes. + +Other poems you might read are: "The Forsaken Merman," Matthew Arnold; +"The Cloud," Shelley; "Kubla Khan," Coleridge; "The Burial of Moses," +Mrs. Alexander; and "The Recessional," Kipling. "The Forest of Wild +Thyme," Alfred Noyes, contains much in the way of music. + +After you have studied these--and they will give you a good +start--search for yourself. To make your own discoveries in literature +is a valuable part of your training. + +[Sidenote: Anthologies are Valuable Text-Books] + +The student will find it very helpful to have at hand one or two small +volumes of selected poems by various authors. Such anthologies often +give, in a compact form, some of the choicest of the writers' verses; +and this saves the novice's time in wading through some work that may be +indifferent in search of the best. Moreover, a little volume can be +slipped into the pocket, and will provide reading for odd moments. + +Do not content yourself with a mere reading of the poems. Try to decide +wherein lies the charm (or the reverse) of each. Explain, if you can, +why, for instance, the following, by Swinburne:-- + + "Yea, surely the sea like a harper laid hand on the shore as a lyre," + +appeals to one more than Longfellow's lines:-- + + "The night is calm and cloudless, + And still as still can be, + And the stars come forth to listen + To the music of the sea." + +Compare poems by various writers dealing with somewhat similar themes; +note wherein the difference lies both in thought and workmanship. Mrs. +Browning's "Sonnets from the Portuguese" could be studied side by side +with Christina Rossetti's "Monna Innominata"; Longfellow's "The Herons +of Elmwood" with Bryant's "Lines to a Waterfowl"; Christina Rossetti's +"The Prince's Progress" with Tennyson's "The Day Dream." + +Such exercises will enlarge your ideas as well as your vocabulary; they +will help to give you facility in expressing yourself, and also that +genuine polish which is the result of close familiarity with good +writing. + + + + +Analysing an Author's Methods + + +It is not possible to suggest any definite course of reading for the +study of technique (or methods of authorship). The ground is too wide to +be covered by any prescribed set of books. + +In order to understand, even a little bit, "how the author does it," you +need to study each book separately, as you read it--deciding, if you +can, what was the author's central idea in writing it; disentangling the +essential framework of the story from the less important accessories; +analysing the plot; assigning to the various characters their degree of +importance; accounting for the introduction of minor episodes; noting +how the author has obtained a fair proportion of light and shade, and +secured sufficient contrast to ensure a well-balanced story; and how all +the main happenings combine to carry one forward, slowly it may be, but +surely, to the climax the author has in view. + +These are a few of the points you should observe. Now look at them in +detail, and at the same time apply them to your own work. + +[Sidenote: One Central Idea Should Underlie every Story] + +Every author of any standing has one central idea at the back of his +mind when he sets out to write a novel; this is the pivot on which the +plot turns--it may be called the keynote of the book, Sometimes the +author's "idea" is obvious or avowed, as in the case of much of +Dickens's works, and _Uncle Tom's Cabin_. Sometimes it is so deftly +concealed that you may not realise a book is giving expression to any +one special idea, so absorbing is the general interest. + +One great advantage of this keynote is the way it gives cohesion to a +story as a whole, a motive for the plot, a bed-rock reason for the +story's existence. + +The central idea which is invariably behind a well-written story must +not be confused with the "moral" that adorned all the praiseworthy books +of our grandmothers' day. The idea may be a very demoralising one, and +anything but a wholesome pill administered in a little jam, as was the +"moral" of by-gone story-books. But the point I want you to notice is +this: every author who is an experienced worker starts out with a +definite object in mind--good or bad, or merely dull, as the case may +be; he does not sit down and write haphazard incidents with nothing more +in view than the stringing together of conversations and happenings +that arrive nowhere, and illustrate nothing in particular, and reach no +climax other than a wedding. + +[Sidenote: A Wedding need not be the Chief Aim of a Novel] + +Possibly it will come as a surprise to many amateurs when I tell them +that the inevitable uniting of the lovers (or their disuniting, as the +case may be) in the last chapter, is not necessarily the chief object of +an experienced writer; often it is merely incidental. + +The average beginner--more especially the feminine beginner--has but one +aim when she embarks on fiction, viz., the marrying of her hero and +heroine. That the wedding bells ringing on the last page may be an +episode of secondary importance, so far as a book is concerned, seldom +occurs to her. The result is the monotonous character of thousands of +the MSS. offered for publication; and the weary reams of paper that are +covered with pointless, backboneless fiction, that amounts, all told, to +nothing more than the engagement (or the estrangement) of two +colourless, nondescript individuals! + +[Sidenote: The Ideas behind Books are as Varied as Human Nature] + +Sometimes the author aims to show you either the inhabitants and manners +and customs and scenery of some definite locality! or one particular +class of society; or the virtues or failings of an individual type; or +the beauty of an abstract virtue; or the pitiful side of poverty; or +vice decorated with gloss and glamour. + +But whatever the idea may be, one of some sort lies behind every novel +of recognised standing. + +Begin your study of a book, therefore, by looking for its central idea; +then observe how this permeates the whole, and how the author utilises +his characters and his incidents to demonstrate the idea. + +Some writers explain themselves in the title they give to a book. _The +Egoist_ tells you at once what to expect. But whether the motif of a +book be obvious or not at first apparent, it is important so far as the +staying quality of a story is concerned. And it is not until you have +studied standard authors, with this particular matter in mind, that you +realise how much more important it is that a book should have a keynote, +than that the hero should be handsome, or that the heroine should be +dressed in some soft clinging material that suits her surpassing +loveliness to perfection. + +[Sidenote: Look for the Framework of the Story] + +Having decided what is the central idea behind the book you are studying +(I am not suggesting any particular book; choose any work of recognised +merit by a dead or a modern writer and it will serve), next try to find +the framework of the story--the plot if you like, though the framework +is not always the plot. + +Each complete story is composed of an essential skeleton, with a certain +amount of secondary matter added to it to take away from its bareness. +It is well to notice that with the greatest writers the framework is +usually something fairly solid and substantial that will stand the +addition of other matter; and it often deals with some great human truth +that is world-old. It is not much good to have a framework composed of +trivialities. + +But suppose the framework be something like this-- + + Worthy John Jones becomes engaged to good Mary Smith; they quarrel, + and become disengaged. J. J. falls a temporary prey to the sirenical + wiles of Elsienoria Brown; M. S. lends a temporary ear to the + insidious suggestions of Adolphus Robinson. Elsienoria Brown + inadvertently listens to the innocent prattle of a little orphan + child, and forthwith mends her wicked ways and dies of consumption; + Adolphus Robinson is condemned to penal servitude for life after + absconding with the Smith family plate. J. J. and M. S. are finally + restored to each other through the kind offices of the same innocent + orphan child. + +It may take you a little thought and time to detach this framework from +the author's wealth of additional incidents or secondary matter. + +There may be talk about the lovely old Tudor mansion, Mary's home; the +life history of each of Mary's ancestors, whose portraits hang in the +long gallery; the eccentricities of Mary's grandfather; the Spartan +temperament of Mary's mother, with details about the perfection of her +servants, and the thoroughness of her spring-cleaning activities; +digressions as to non-successful aspirants for Mary's hand prior to the +advent of John; Mary's work among the poor; Mary's love of Nature, and +her exquisite taste in garden planning; Mary's patience with a gouty +father; the sordid history of the late parents of the prattling orphan +child whom Mary recently adopted; Mary's stay in Cairo (after the +quarrel), and her meeting there with Adolphus; details of Cairo natives; +measurements of the pyramids; a nocturne on moonlight over the desert; a +dissertation on flies; prices and descriptions of bazaar curios; +sidelights on hotel visitors, their tongues, their flirtations, and +their fancy-work---- + +And much more concerning Mary. + +Then there will be Elsienoria; her stage career; her intrigues; her +eyes; her interest in bull-terriers and bridge; a descriptive catalogue +of her jewels, and the furnishings of her palatial yacht; and a vignette +of her poor old mother taking in washing in Milwaukee. + +In like manner there will be copious data concerning John, and ditto +concerning Adolphus, with all sorts of entanglements to be straightened +out, and a legion of simple happenings that lead to confusions. + +It is from a mass of incidents such as these that you will have to +eliminate the framework, the part that cannot be dispensed with without +the rest falling to pieces. Practice in analysing stories will soon make +the framework of each clear to you. + +[Sidenote: Assess the Value of each Character in the Story] + +The characters should be studied individually, in order to find out why +the author brought them on the scene; what position each occupies in +relation to the whole; who are the most important folk, and who are +brought in merely to render some useful but unimportant service to the +story. + +Then note how the author keeps the circumstances that surround each +character directly proportionate to his or her place in the story. The +great deeds are invariably performed by the hero--not by some odd man +who appears only in one chapter and is never heard of again. The most +striking personality is never assigned to some woman who only has a +minor part given her, and who vanishes in the course of a dozen pages, +with no further explanation. + +In this way assess the value of each character to the story as a whole. + +Next study the matter that seems non-essential to you, and decide, if +you can, why each episode was introduced. + +[Sidenote: The Use of Secondary Matter] + +At first glance you may think that much of it could be done without, and +would make no difference whatever to the story, beyond shortening it, if +it were omitted altogether. + +This is perfectly true of poor work. The unskilled writer will pad out a +MS. with all manner of stuff that has no direct bearing on the plot. +There will be conversations that reveal nothing, that throw no lights on +the characteristics or the motives of anybody, and are obviously +introduced merely to fill up a few pages. There will be incidents that +in no way affect the movement of the story, that add no particular +excitement or interest, and carry you no nearer to the climax than you +were in the previous chapter. + +But the good craftsman wastes no space on unnecessary talk, even though +certain scenes and episodes may be of less importance than others. He +knows that secondary matter, such as descriptive passages, dialogues, +interludes and digressions are necessary in order to "dress" the +framework and give it something more than bare bones; they are also +needed to give variety and balance to a book. Some incidents that may +not appear to be vital to the story, are introduced to break what would +otherwise have been a monotonous series of events; or they are put in +for the purpose of giving brightness and a picturesque element as a +contrast to some sorrowful or gloomy occurrence. + +[Sidenote: Minor Details can be made to serve Two Purposes] + +If the book be written by a master, each character, each conversation, +each incident, each descriptive passage, each soliloquy is introduced +for a specific purpose; nothing is haphazard, nothing is merely a +fill-up. + +Moreover, the expert novelist is not content to put his secondary matter +to one minor use only; he frequently makes it contribute something to +the main issues of the story--and in this case it serves a double +purpose. + +For instance, take the imaginary story I sketched out just now. Let us +suppose that, half-way through the story, there occurs a stormy chapter, +in which John and Mary quarrel and part in a scene that is red-hot with +temper and emotion. It will be desirable to secure a decided contrast in +the next chapter, to give every one--readers as well as lovers--time to +cool down a little; besides, you do not follow one emotional scene with +another that is equally overwrought, or they weaken each other. The +author would, therefore, aim for something entirely different in the +chapter following the one that ended with John violently slamming the +hall door, and Mary drowning the best drawing-room cushion in tears. + +We will assume that the author transports Mary to Cairo for change of +air; and, in order to restore the atmosphere to normal, he decides on an +interlude, entitled "Moonlight Over the Desert"; this will serve as a +soothing contrast to the preceding upset. + +But he will not necessarily describe the moonlight himself. If he makes +Mary describe it in a letter to a friend, or to her father who remained +at home, he will be killing two birds with one stone; he will be +administering a pleasant sedative, after the turmoil of the lovers' +quarrel; also he will be showing you how Mary's temperament responds to +the beauties of Nature, and how appreciative she is of all that is good +and pure and lovely. In this way he will be helping you to understand +Mary better, and thus the "Moonlight Over the Desert" chapter will be +contributing definitely to the main trend of the book. + +Then, again, the author may wish to bring the reader back to the +everyday happenings in a light and whimsical manner, and he may give you +a scene showing the various ladies who are staying at the same hotel +with Mary in Cairo, retailing their conversation, with the usual +oddities and humours and irresponsibilities that are to be found in the +small-talk of a mixed collection of women at an hotel. In this way he +can introduce brightness and a light touch among more sombre chapters. +But in all probability he will make the conversation serve a second +purpose; Mary may, on this occasion, hear the name of Adolphus Robinson +for the first time, little realising that he is to play an important +part in her life later on; or an American visitor may chance to give +details of her old charwoman in Milwaukee, Elsienoria's mother, little +knowing that Elsienoria is the evil star in Mary's horizon, etc. + +These are indications of the way an experienced author can make every +incident in the story dovetail with something else, as well as serve an +"atmospheric" purpose, _i.e._, to change the air from grave to gay, or +from mirth to tragedy. He never writes merely for the sake of covering +paper, or bridging time; whereas the amateur only too often introduces +digressions and irrelevant matter with very little reason or apparent +connection, apart from a desire to cover paper, or, perhaps, because the +episode came into his mind at that moment, and he thought it was +interesting in itself, or that it would help to lengthen the story. + +[Sidenote: Never lose Sight of the Climax] + +Notice, too, how the clever author keeps his eye on the climax; how +ingeniously he will make everything lead towards that climax; and how he +puts on pace as he gets nearer and nearer the goal, instead of hurrying +on events at a terrific rate at the beginning, then getting suddenly +becalmed part-way through, and making the tragedy painfully +long-drawn-out at the end--as is the method of many amateurs! + +[Sidenote: The Main Rules apply to all Stories, irrespective of Length] + +You may tell me that all this does not apply to you personally, as you +are not so ambitious as to try your hand at a book; you only write short +stories. + +The same rules apply to all stories, whether 3,000 or 100,000 words in +length, the difference being that with a short story greater +condensation is necessary. Instead of devoting a chapter to some +contrasting episode, you would give a paragraph to it; and instead of +having a dozen or so secondary characters, you would be content with +only two or three besides the hero and heroine, and this in itself would +reduce your number of minor episodes and your descriptive matter. + +Whatever the length of your story, it is well to remember that there +should be one main idea at the back of all (apart from the wedding); +also a framework, to which is added a certain amount of secondary matter +that is well-balanced and introduced with a definite object in view; the +characters must bear a fixed relation to the whole; and there must be a +climax, concealed from the reader, so far as possible, till the last +moment, but ever-present in the writer's mind as the goal towards which +every incident, indeed every paragraph, in the story trends. + +You will find it very useful to study the short stories of Rudyard +Kipling, Sir James Barrie, and Mrs. Flora Annie Steel. + +[Sidenote: The Necessity for Careful Planning] + +Studying fiction in this way is exceedingly interesting, and wonderfully +instructive. Obviously every author has his own individual methods, and +no two work in exactly the same way. But if you examine these main +features, which are common to most, you begin to realise something of +the careful planning and forethought that go to the making of a story +that is to grip its readers, and live beyond its first publication +flush. + +Perhaps you may be inclined to think that the bestowal of such minute +care on the details of a book would tend to make it artificial and +stilted; there are those who argue that the rough, slap-dash style is +the only method by which we can catch the fine frenzy of genius in its +unadulterated form! But all Art calls for attention to detail; anything +that is to last must be the product of painstaking thought. Life itself +is a mass of detail carefully planned by the Master-Mind. If you study +your own life, you will be amazed to find, as you look back upon the +past, how every happening seems to be part of a wonderful mosaic, that +nothing really stands quite alone with no bearing whatever on after +events. + +That the slap-dash method is much easier than the careful, thoughtful +working-out of a story, I admit. But it does not wear--why? because +there is really no body in the work; it is all on the surface, and +therefore quickly evaporates. That which costs you next to nothing to +produce, will result in next to nothing. + +Of course, you can elaborate your work, and add a multitude of details +all apparently bearing on the story, till the readers (and also the main +features of the story) are lost in a mass of small-talk and unimportant +events. But the secret of all good art is to know what to take and what +to leave; and the genius of a writer is evidenced in the way he knows +just what incidents to put down in order to gain the object he has in +view, and what to omit as redundant, or unnecessary to the direct +working out of his theme. + +[Sidenote: The Application] + +I am not analysing any novel to give you concrete examples of the points +I have named. My object in writing these chapters is not so much to set +down facts for you to memorise, as to help you to find out things for +yourself. + +Our own discoveries are among the few things of life that we manage to +remember. + +Having dissected a novel, and made notes on the way it was constructed, +turn to your own work (whether a long or a short story), and see what +you have to show in the way of a main idea, a good framework, a purpose +for each character, a reason for each incident, well-balanced secondary +matter, with a steady _crescendo_ and _accelerando_ leading to a good +climax. + +I need not point out the application. It is for you to make your own +stories profit by your study of the methods of the great writers. + + + + +PART FOUR + +POINTS A WRITER OUGHT TO NOTE + + + Beautiful and striking thoughts are a common everyday + occurrence; the uncommon occurrence is to find the + person who can reduce those thoughts to writing in + such a manner as to convey, exactly to another mind + the ideas that were in his own. + + + + +Practice Precedes Publication + + +When you sit down pen in hand with the intention of writing +something--WRITE! + +This may seem unnecessary advice to lead off with; but it is surprising +how much time one can spend in not writing, when one is supposed to be +engaged in literary work (no one knows this better than I do). It is so +easy to gaze out of the window in pleasant meditation, letting the +thoughts wander about in a half-awake, half-dreaming state of mind. + +Girls often sit and think all kinds of romantic things, weaving one +strand of thought with another, letting the mind run on indefinitely +into space and roam about aimlessly among pleasant sensations. Such +girls sometimes think this an indication that they have the ability to +write a novel; whereas it is doubtful whether they could draft a +possible plot for the simplest of stories; their brain is not +sufficiently disciplined to consecutive thought. + +Others are possessed of high, noble impulses; or they feel a sudden +overwhelming sense of the beautiful in life; or a desire to attain to +some lofty ideal; and forthwith they conclude this indicates a poetic +gift of unusual calibre. All such experiences are good, they are also +plentiful (fortunately, for the uplifting of human nature); but they do +not imply the ability to write good poetry, even though they prove +exceedingly useful to a poet. + +[Sidenote: Beautiful Thoughts do not Guarantee Beautiful Writing] + +Most beginners think that the main essential for a writer is a +fair-sized stock of beautiful or striking thoughts; but it is quite as +important to know how to write down those thoughts. As a matter of fact, +beautiful and striking thoughts are of common, everyday occurrence; the +uncommon occurrence is to find the person who can reduce those thoughts +to writing in such a manner as to convey, exactly, to another mind the +ideas that were in his own. + +"But how ought I to start with writing?" the novice sometimes asks. +"There seems so much to say, yet it is difficult to know where to +begin." + +When a student commences the study of Art he does not begin with the +painting of some big, involved subject, such as "A Scene from Hamlet." +He spends some years working at little bits and making studies. He +practises on a profile, or a hand, or the branches of a tree; he will +sketch and re-sketch a child's head, or one figure; he will work away at +a few rose-petals or an apple--always endeavouring to render small +pieces of work well, rather than large pieces indifferently. + +When a great artist starts work on an Academy picture, he does not +commence at one side of the canvas and work right across to the other +side till the picture is finished. He does not necessarily begin his +masterpiece by painting on the canvas at all. As a rule, he makes a +rough-out of his idea (more than one, very often), merely blocking in +the figures, arranging and re-arranging the position of the main items, +then assigning the details to their proper places, till he gets all +properly balanced, and to his liking. + +Then he dissects the picture-that-is-to-be, making separate studies of +the figures, sometimes making several drawings of an arm, or a piece of +drapery, or a bit of foreground, expending infinite care and work on +fragments, and making dozens of sketches before a stroke is put on the +canvas itself. + +Thus you see both the novice and the master specialise on detail before +they tackle a piece of work as a whole. + +Some of the "studies" made by famous artists for their important +pictures are positive gems, and help us to understand something of the +immense amount of thought and preparation that go to the making of any +work of art that is to live. + +The student who is training for authorship must work on the same lines. +All too often the amateur starts by putting down the first sentence of a +story or an article, and then writes straight on to the very end, +without any preliminary rough-out or separate study of detail; and the +result is a shapeless mass of words, lacking balance and variety, and +either without any climax, or with two or three too many. + +[Sidenote: "It simply Came!"] + +When offering a MS. for publication, the writer will often tell me--as +though it were something to be proud of--"I merely sat down, and without +any previous thought, wrote the whole of this story from beginning to +end. It simply came." + +One can only reply: "It reads like it!" + +I have before me a letter and MS. from a would-be contributor, who +writes: "I just dashed this off as it first came into my head. I do so +love scribbling, and I simply can't help jotting things down when the +fit takes me." + +This is very well to a limited extent. There are times when all authors +just dash things off when the fit takes them; but, if they have any +sense (and no one succeeds as a writer if they have not) they do not +regard the dashed-off scribble as the final product, and rush with it to +a publisher. Much ability may be evidenced in a hurried "jot-down" of +this type; and if written by a master hand, it may be useful as an +object lesson, showing how a clever author makes his preliminary +studies; but as a finished piece of work it is of little value, for the +simple reason that it is not finished. + +Of course, the greater the writer the less revision will his +dashed-off-scribble need, because experience and practice have taught +him to know almost by instinct what to put down and what to omit. +Nevertheless, he is certain to go over it again, making alterations and +additions, before sending it out to the reading public. + +Before you can hope to write anything worth publication (much less worth +payment), you will require considerable practice in actual writing. + +Directly a beginner puts on paper a little study in observation, or +collects some facts from various already-published books, or induces +twelve or sixteen lines of equal lengths to rhyme alternately (rhymes +sometimes omitted, however, in which case the lines are styled "blank +verse"), that beginner invariably sends along the MS. to an editor, and +is surprised, or grieved--according to temperament--when it is not +accepted. + +Few would-be authors realise that what may be good as a study or an +exercise, is not necessarily of the slightest use to the general public. +And, after all, the final test of our work is its use to the public. If +the public will not take it, it may just as well remain unwritten +(unless we are willing to regard it as practice only), for it is certain +our acquaintances will not listen while we read our "declined" MSS. +aloud to them! + +"But why shouldn't the public buy my first attempt?" some one will ask. + +[Sidenote: Why "first attempts" have rarely any Market Value] + +The public seldom is willing to pay some one else for what it can do +quite as well itself. And most people have made first attempts at +writing. Rare indeed is the person who has not laboured out an essay, or +dreamed a wonderful love story, or put together a few verses. In the +main, all first attempts bear a strong family likeness one to the other, +and though the general public may not stop to analyse its own motives, +the truth is, it will not buy immature work as a rule, because it feels +it can produce writing equally immature. + +For this reason (among other things) first attempts have rarely any +market value--unless you have been dead at least fifty years and have +acquired fame in the interval! + +Of course there is always the remote chance that a genius may arise, +whose first attempt eclipses everything else on the market; but as I +have said before, we need not worry about that exceptional person, since +some one has estimated that not more than two are born in any +generation. And even these two have to be divided between a number of +arts and sciences; they are not devoted exclusively to literature! + +The average writer whose books have made his name famous, had to write +much by way of practice, before any of it found a paying market. And we +humbler folk must not be above doing likewise. + +Begin to train yourself in writing by making studies, in words, just as +the art student makes them in line or wash. Make studies of character, +of scenery, of temperament, of dialogue--of anything that comes to your +notice and interests you. + +To make a character study of someone you know intimately, or with whom +you are in daily contact, is a useful exercise--but I don't advise you +to read it to them afterwards, that is if you feel you have been quite +frank in your writing, and you value their friendship! + +Aim to make each study a little word-picture, embodying some idea, or +reproducing some trait, or conversation, or incident. But do not be in +too great a hurry to embark on a lengthy or involved piece of work. + +[Sidenote: The Style of Writing should Vary According to the +Subject-Matter] + +Practise various styles of writing--serious, conversational, gay, +didactic, colloquial, etc.; and see that the style corresponds with your +subject-matter. + +Watch good authors with this latter point in view. For example, the +style of writing in Kipling's "Barrack Room Ballads" is not the style he +used when writing "The Recessional." + +Often several styles of writing are necessary in one story, if we are +introducing contrasts in characters or in scenes. And though we may +think that one style is peculiarly our own, it is most desirable that we +should write just as readily in any style. This gives variety and colour +to our work; also it reduces the risk of our acquiring mannerisms, +which are generally tiresome to other people, though we are blandly +unconscious of them ourselves. + +But be sure that you do not appear to force an effect; do not make an +effort to be light-hearted, for instance, or overdo the sombre tone one +would use at a funeral. Sincerity should underlie all your writings; +they should carry the conviction with them that what you say happened, +actually _did_ happen, and was not invented by you merely to heighten +the gaiety or deepen the gloom, as the case may be. + +In order to make your style sincere and convincing, you must study life +itself, not take your models from other people's books. If you are to +write in a joyous style that will infect others with your cheeriness, +you must enjoy much of life (if not all of it) yourself, and be able to +enter into other people's enjoyment. If you are to make your readers +feel the grief that surrounded the funeral of which you write in your +story, you must have shared in sorrow and sympathised with others in +theirs. + +Once you enter into the very spirit of each happening, you will find +your style will soon shape itself according to the situation. You will +use the right words and expressions just as you would were you facing +the situation in real life, without having to stop to think out what is +best suited to the occasion. + +But the beginner has to learn to be natural when writing; that is one of +his hardest tasks, I often think; and he sometimes needs considerable +practice before he acquires the power to write exactly as he thinks and +speaks, and convey precisely what he himself feels. Therefore practise +your pen particularly in this direction if you find it an effort to be +natural on paper. + +[Sidenote: The Need for Condensation] + +All beginners need to practise condensation; our tendency while we are +inexperienced is to be diffuse, and to over-load our subject with +unimportant explanations or irrelevant side-issues. + +It will help you if, after a finished piece of writing has been put +aside for a few days, you go over it with a fresh mind, and delete +everything--single words or whole sentences--that can be omitted without +lessening the force or the picturesque quality of your writing, or +blurring your meaning. + +For example:--If the hero's grandfather has no bearing on the +development of the story (and you are not seeking to prove hereditary +tendencies), spare us his biography. + +Do not tell the reader, "It is impossible to describe the scene," if you +straightway proceed to describe it. + +It is waste of space to write, "It was a dull, gloomy, cheerless +November day"; one takes it for granted that a gloomy November day is +dull, likewise cheerless. + +If the colour of the heroine's eyes and the tint of her hair are +immaterial to her career, omit such hackneyed data. Of course these +matters may be important--if the lady is the villainess, for instance. I +have noticed that it seems essential the wicked female should have red +hair and green eyes, while the angel has violet (or grey) eyes, with +long sweeping lashes--in novels, at any rate. I cannot be so certain +about real life, for I have never met an out-and-out villainess in the +flesh; though I have known several really nice girls, who were a joy to +their aged and decrepit parents, and who married the right man into the +bargain--and all this on mere mouse-coloured hair, nondescript eyebrows, +and complexions verging on sallow! + +If, after consideration, you are bound to admit that it will make no +difference to the working out of the story, nor to its general interest, +if you omit some such trivial description, or a word or a phrase, take +it out; its deletion will probably improve the MS. In such a matter, +however, it is very difficult for us to judge our own work. + +[Sidenote: The Quest of the Right Word] + +As a useful exercise in the art of condensation, practise describing +incidents as forcefully as you can, using the fewest possible sentences. +This will also train you to select the word that best describes your +idea. You will soon realise that the one right word (and there is always +one right word for every occasion) carries more conviction with it than +half-a-dozen words when neither is exactly "it." + +The able writer is not the one who uses many words, but he who +invariably uses the exact word. + +It is safe to say that, as a general rule, the more you increase your +adjectives, and qualifying or explanatory phrases, the more you decrease +the strength and vividness of your writing. + +[Sidenote: Making Plots] + +The student should practise sketching out plots. This is a very +fascinating occupation, and all seems to go easily here--until you +examine them! Then you may be less elated. + +When you have completed the plot to your own satisfaction, look at it +carefully in order to discover if you have, by any chance, used an idea +or a theme that has been used by some one else before you. This is a +painful process, for, as a rule, one's most admired plot crumbles to +nothing under this test! If you are quite honest about it, you will be +obliged to confess--until you have had a fair amount of practice--that +your plots are nothing more than other people's plots re-shuffled. + +Do not delude yourself by saying that you will "treat it differently." +Perhaps you will; but you will stand more chance of success if you +determine to get a new plot that has not been used before, and treat +_that_ differently. + +The lack of any new idea or originality in the plot is the cause of +thousands of MSS. being turned down each year. Many amateurs seem to +think that the plot is of next to no importance, whereas it is the +foundation upon which you raise the superstructure; if there is no +strength in the foundation, the upper part is likely to be tottery. + +[Sidenote: Learning and Cleverness must not be Obtrusive] + +Until you start to scheme out plots, you have no idea how much there can +be (but often is not!) in this part of an author's business. + +Do not regard your writing as a medium for the exhibition of your own +cleverness. Never try to show off your own learning or to impress the +reader with your own brilliancy. + +Early amateur efforts often bristle with quotations, foreign words, +stilted phrases, pedantic remarks, or references to classical +personages. The reason for this is clear; when the amateur writes he +invariably sees himself as the chief object of interest in the +foreground, rather than his subject-matter. Almost unconsciously the +back of his mind is filled with the thought, "What will the public think +of ME when they read this?" Consequently he does all in his power to +impress the public, and his relations and friends (and by no means +forgetting his enemies) with his attainments and unusual knowledge. + +We are all of us like this when we start. But as we gain experience--not +merely experience in writing, but that wide experience of the world and +human nature, which is such a valuable asset to the writer--we come to +realise that the public pay very little heed to a writer personally +(until he or she becomes over-poweringly famous); it is the +subject-matter of a book that they trouble about, and the way that +subject-matter is treated. Readers do not care in the least if an author +can read Hafiz in the original (unless he is actually writing about +Persian poetry, of course); but they do care if he has written a bright, +absorbing story that holds their interest from first to last, or a +helpful illuminating article on some topic that appeals to them. +Therefore, why make a special opportunity to drag in Hafiz, or some one +equally irrelevant, when he is but vaguely related to the subject in +hand, or possibly is quite superfluous? + +Do not think I mean by this that a knowledge of languages and the +classics is immaterial or unnecessary for the writer. Quite the reverse. +The more knowledge we acquire of everything worth knowing (and standard +literature is the great storehouse of knowledge) the better equipped we +are for work, and the greater our chance of success. + +[Sidenote: The Well-Informed Man does not use his Learning for Show +Purposes] + +But remember this: the really well-informed man does not use his +learning for show purposes. Knowledge should not be employed for +superficial ornamentation. It must be so woven into the strands of our +everyday life, that it becomes as much a part of us as the food we eat +and the air we breathe. Our reading should not be made to advertise our +intellectual standing. + +We do not read Plato and Shakespeare and Dante that we may be able to +quote them, and thus let others know we are familiar with them. We read +them in order to get a wider outlook on life; to see things from more +than one point of view; to look into minds that are bigger than our own; +to learn great facts and problems of life that might not otherwise come +our way, yet are necessary for us to know, if we are to see human nature +in right perspective. In short, we study great authors in order to +arrive at a better understanding of our neighbour; some take us farther +than this, and help us to a better understanding of God and His +Universe. If we are reading the classics with any lesser aim, we are +missing a great deal. + +The knowledge we absorb from such reading should work out to something +far greater than a few quotations! It should affect our thoughts and our +life itself (which obviously includes our writing), because it has +helped us to clearer, altogether larger ideas of this world of ours and +the people who are in it. + +Such knowledge will make its mark on our writing in every direction, +giving it depth and breadth--_i.e._, we shall see below the surface +instead of only recording the obvious; and take big views instead of +indulging in puerilities and pettiness. + +Likewise it should make us more tolerant and sympathetic and +large-minded, knowing that life is not always what it seems. + +And it may help us to accuracy--a virtue of priceless worth to the +writer. + +Of course, the knowledge acquired from the reading of great books does +not take the place of the knowledge we gain by mixing with living +people; we need the one as much as the other. But it is a wonderful help +in enlarging our power of thinking, and the scope of our thoughts; and +it opens our eyes to much in the world around us that we might otherwise +miss. + +So much by way of precept. Now for an example of the type of writing +that is overloaded with learning. + +Some years ago, when I was assistant-editor of the _Windsor Magazine_, a +girl, who had taken her B.A., came to me with an urgent request that I +would help her to a start in journalism. If only I would give her the +smallest opening, she was sure she would get on; she was willing to try +her hand at anything, if only--etc. + +At the moment we were proposing to publish an article on the nearly +extinct London "Cabby." I had already arranged with some typical cabmen +to be at a certain cab-shelter on a given day, to be interviewed. As +this girl was so keen to try her hand at writing up a given subject, I +asked her if she would care to tackle the "Cabmen" article, explaining +that we wanted a simple straightforward account of their work and +experiences, the various drawbacks of the profession, any curiosities in +the way of passengers they had come across, and similar particulars +calculated to arouse public interest in the men. + +She was charmed with the idea, and grateful for the chance to get a +start. And she said she quite understood the simple, chatty style of +article I wanted. + +A week later the article arrived. And oh, how that girl had slaved over +it, too; it seemed to me she had tried to include in it everything she +knew! It started with an eight-line Greek quotation. It gave historical +details of the city of London; there were references to Roman +charioteers and the Olympic games, extracts from Chaucer and other +authors equally respectable. Indeed, there seemed to be something of +everything in the article--excepting information about the cabmen. What +little she had written about them, poor men, was swamped by the display +of her own knowledge. + +Yet it was difficult to make her understand that there was something +incongruous in the association of broken-down old cabmen with a Greek +extract; that the one topic created a false atmosphere for the other; +while equally it was unsuitable to introduce Greek into a general +magazine, seeing that the larger proportion of the grown-ups among the +reading public had forgotten all the Greek they ever knew. + +Unpractised journalists are apt to overload their articles with data +that has no immediate connection with the subject in hand, even though +it may be distantly related. Such inclusions often weaken the whole, as +they confuse rather than enlighten the reader. + +One other caution is necessary. Avoid quoting from other people's +writings. With some amateurs this amounts to a most irritating mania. +Now and then, an apt quotation may serve to enforce a point, but the +beginner should be sparing in their use. + +Remember that people, as a rule, do not care to pay for what they have +already read elsewhere! Also, a publisher only reckons to purchase +original matter (apart from books that are avowedly compilations). + +In any case, you are not gaining practice in original writing if you are +merely copying out what some one else has written. + + + + +The Reader Must Be Interested + + +The first essential in any publication is that it shall interest people, +especially the people who, it is hoped, will buy it. Every book does not +appeal to the same type of reader; but every book should appeal to +_some_ type of reader, and it should interest that type of reader, or it +will prove a failure. + +This does not necessarily mean that it must keep the reader wrought up +to a high pitch of excitement, or squirming with laughter, or bathed in +tears--though a judicious mixture of these things may contribute much to +the success of your work. It means that what you propose to tell people +must be something they will want to hear; and when you start to tell it +to them, you must tell it in such a way that they will be keen for you +to continue. + +Beginners often think the main point is their own interest in what they +write. It is certainly desirable that we ourselves should be interested +in what we write, otherwise the chances are it will not be worth +reading; but it is still more important that what we write should +interest other people. I have known a book to sell well, though the +author was thoroughly bored when writing it; but I have never known a +book to sell well if the public were thoroughly bored when trying to +read it! + +[Sidenote: If your Writings do not Grip, they will not Sell] + +And this necessity for interesting the reader applies to every class of +writing. It is useless to write a scientific treatise in such a dull way +that the student is not sufficiently attracted to read the second +chapter; it is useless to write a religious article in such a +stereotyped, conventional manner that nobody gets beyond the second +paragraph, and everybody is quite willing to take the rest as read; it +is useless to write such vague insipid verse that the reader does not +even take the trouble to find out what it is all about; and it is +useless to write feeble fiction that lands the reader nowhere in +particular, at the end of several chapters. + +If you cannot grip, and then hold, the reader's attention, your writings +will not be read. + +And if they are not read, they will not sell. + +You may think this last remark a backward way of putting it, and that a +book must sell before it can be read. But several people read it before +a copy is actually sold, and often a good deal depends on the verdict of +these people. It is read by the publisher, or his editor (sometimes +several of them); if they decide that it does not interest them, and +that it is not likely to interest the public--where are you? + +Even if you determine, after your MS. has been declined by a few dozen +publishers, to pay for its publication yourself, and in this way get it +into print, there are the reviewers to be thought of; should they be of +the same opinion as the publishers who declined it, and find it so +lacking in interest that they never trouble to finish it, and ignore it +entirely in their review columns--that, again, is unfortunate for you! + +Among other people who may read it, there are the publisher's +travellers. If it fails to interest them they can hardly grow so +enthusiastic over it, when displaying it to the bookseller, as they do +over another book that kept them sitting up all night to finish it! + +More than this, a keen, intelligent bookseller reads many of the books +on his counter, in order that he may know what to recommend his +customers when they ask him for a book of a definite type. Indeed, he is +often supplied with "advance copies" by the publisher. If he finds a +volume engrossing, you may rely on his introducing it to his customers; +and if the purchasers of the earliest copies are captivated by it, they +will certainly talk about it and urge their acquaintances to read it, +and send it to their friends on dates when gifts are due. + +Thus you see a book really must be read before it has a chance of any +sale. + +Beginners often think the all-important thing is to get their MS. set up +in type; that once it is published the public will buy it and read it as +a matter of course. But the public won't, unless it interests them. And +no matter how much money an author may be able to expend on the +production of a book, it will bring him little satisfaction if that book +does not sell, and he sees the major portion of the edition eventually +cleared out as a "remainder," or dumped in stacks on his door-step, when +the publisher can give it shelf-room no longer. + +[Sidenote: The Personal Outlook must be Taken into Account] + +To interest people you must write on subjects of which they know +something, or subjects which in some way make an appeal to them. You +seldom succeed in interesting them if you write of things quite outside +their usual range of thought or ideals or aspirations. To ensure some +attention from your audience, it is imperative that this matter of +personal outlook be taken into account. + +A subject may be of enthralling interest to you, but if it is not in any +way likely to interest your readers from a personal standpoint--if it +has no connection with their spiritual or material life, if it makes no +appeal to them on the score of beauty, if they cannot by any stretch of +imagination see themselves in a leading part--then it is risky to make +that the subject of an early article or book. When you are +well-established, and recognised as a capable writer, you can take your +chance with any exotic subject you please; but I do not advise it at the +beginning of your career. + +This does not mean that out-of-the-way subjects should never be chosen. +Obviously life would be deadly monotonous if we were always trotting +round the same circle. Novelty is most desirable; monotony is fatal to +success. But it must be novelty that is linked in some way with the +reader's life. + +Let us suppose you are absorbed in the study of a certain new germ--a +germ that is responsible for much mortality among tadpoles. Not only +have you discovered the existence of this germ but you have taken its +name and address, inspected its birth certificate, secured its +photograph, insisted on knowing its age and where the family go to +school, ascertained its average food ration, noted its climatic +preferences, and many other useful facts. All this would be very +interesting to persons who are rearing frogs; but as such people are few +in number, it would scarcely attract the bulk of the reading public, +hence you could not expect a book on the subject to have a large sale; +nor would an article be likely to find a resting place in a magazine or +newspaper that aimed to attract the general public. The subject would +have no interest for the majority of people, because once we have left +our unscientific youth behind, tadpoles are generally as remote from our +life as the North Pole. + +But, suppose you suddenly discover that these same germs are +communicated by tadpoles to water-cress, and therefore directly +responsible for hay fever or whooping-cough (or something equally +conclusive); you will find the general public all attention in an +instant, since water-cress and whooping-cough make a personal claim on +most of us. And in that case your writings would find a market at once. + +[Sidenote: A Novel must have "Grit" Somewhere in its Composition] + +The same ruling applies to fiction. Study any successful novelist, and +you will see how his knowledge of the things that appeal to men and +women guided him in the choice of a subject, and his manner of +presenting it. + +Some beginners think a peculiar plot, or a bizarre background, or an +eccentric subject is more likely to command attention than familiar +topics; but that depends entirely on what there is in it likely to +appeal to the reader and rivet his attention. Mere eccentricity or +peculiarity will not in itself ensure the reader's permanent interest; +behind the externals there must be something with more "grit" in it. + +While newness of idea is much to be desired, and a breaking-away from +hackneyed scenes and types should be aimed for, there must be a strong +underlying link to connect the unusual idea with the reader's sympathies +and mental attitude. You may lay the scene of your story in the Stone +Age, or make your hero and heroine some never-heard-of-before dwellers +in the moon; but unless you can interweave some fundamental human trait, +or some soul longing that will make such a story understandable to +ordinary humanity, it will not interest average readers, since they know +very little about the tastes and manners and customs of the folks who +lived in the Stone Age; neither are they likely to be at all convinced, +nor particularly excited, because you tell them certain circumstances +about beings, said to be in the moon, who could never possibly come +their way. + +[Sidenote: Mere Eccentricity will not hold the Public] + +Even though a few people may at first be attracted by some eccentricity +on your part (and, after all, if we only shriek loud enough, some one is +certain to turn round and look at us), there is no lasting quality in +such methods of catching attention. + +A troupe of pierrots at the seaside may get themselves up in a garb +bizarre enough to give points to the cubists; but unless they also +provide a fair programme, they will not retain an audience. After the +first glance at their peculiarities, the public will stroll farther +along the parade to the much plainer-looking company, if that company +provide a better entertainment. + +There must be "body" in the goods you offer the public, apart from +qualities that are only superficial, such as a weird or unusual setting. + +In some cases an author's strong appeal to human interest has even +borne him aloft over actual defects. + +[Sidenote: Why Fame has sometimes Overlooked Defects] + +The verses of Ann and Jane Taylor could never be called poetry; yet most +of the incidents recorded touch a sympathetic chord in every child's +life, and each "moral" emphasises exactly the claims of justice that are +recognised with surprising clearness by even the youngest; hence the +poems have a personal interest for any normal, healthy-minded child. +And, in consequence, they have lived for over a hundred years. + +In certain of his books Ruskin wrote much about pictures--pictures that +could only interest a small proportion of the general public, because so +few are able to go and see the pictures in the Continental churches and +galleries. Moreover, some of his art criticism is considered worthless +by many artists. Yet Ruskin has been, and still is, universally read. +Why? + +Because, in addition to his erroneous estimate of certain artists, and +his prejudices against others, and his remarks about unfamiliar pictures +many of his readers have never seen, he continually touched on matters +in which we all have a very personal interest--our duty to God, our +relations to our fellow-men, the inner workings of our mind, the +problems of the soul, the beauties and messages of Nature, and scores of +other topics that are of the keenest interest to every thoughtful +person. Ruskin himself complained that people did not read him for what +he had to say, but for the way in which he said it. Yet he was not quite +correct in this. People read him for something besides his style; they +often read him for the side issues, the comments by the way, the little +vignettes and pen-pictures of scenery, the great truths embodied in a +few sentences--matters that strike home to us all, even when the main +purport of a book may appeal only to a few. + +Having recognised the need for interesting the reader, decide next the +means by which you hope to do this. + +[Sidenote: Decide the Means by which you will Endeavour to Interest] + +It may be a merry jingle nonsense rhymes that you intend shall please by +their very absurdity; or it may be the voicing of some tragedy haunting +many human lives that you rely on to touch the human heart; or the +description of some scene of beauty that you feel will be the main +attraction of your writing; or perhaps it is the unselfishness of the +hero, the strong courage of the heroine, or the ingenuity of the +villain that is to be its outstanding feature. + +Whatever it may be--keep it well in view, and always work up to it. The +trouble with so many amateurs is their tendency to forget, before they +are half-way through their MS., the ideas with which they started! + +[Sidenote: Settle on Your Audience] + +The class of reader whom you hope to attract is another point to be +taken into consideration. The literature that appeals to the factory +girl is not the type calculated to enthuse the business man; the book +that delights the Nature lover might be voted "insufferably dull" by the +woman who likes to fancy herself indispensable to smart society. + +While we do not, as a rule, write only for one small section of society, +there are certain divisions, nevertheless, that must be recognised; and +the beginner who is not sufficiently versed in his craft to be able to +work in broad sweeps on a big canvas that can be seen and understood by +all, is wise to observe definite limitations, and work within a +clearly-marked area. + +You must decide whether a story is for the schoolgirl or her mother; +whether you are writing for those who crave sensation, or for those who +like quiet, thoughtful, restrained reading; whether your article is for +the student who already knows something about the matter, or for the +general reader whom you wish to interest in your theme. + +Having settled who are to be your readers--do not let them slip your +memory while you address several other conflicting audiences from time +to time. Writers of books for children are especial sinners in this +respect, frequently introducing passages that are quite outside the +child's purview, and obviously better suited to adults. + +[Sidenote: Be sure of your Object] + +Your object in writing should be definitely settled before you start on +your MS. Is it to instruct, or to help, or to entertain? Is it to +provide excitement, or to act as a soothing restorative to tired nerves +and brain? Is it to expose some social wrong, or to enlist sympathy for +suffering and misfortune? Is it to make people smile, or to make them +weep? Is it to induce a light-hearted and care-free frame of mind, or to +make the reader think? Is it to pander to a vicious taste, or to foster +clean ideals? + +Inexperienced writers often seem to think there is no need for any +defined purpose in their work, unless they are issuing an appeal for +charity, or writing an article that is to combat some special evil. Yet +everything we write should have a purpose. Unfortunately, we have +dropped into a habit of ticketing a work "a book with a purpose" when it +deals particularly with religious or social propaganda; whereas every +book should be a book with a purpose, or it will not be worth the paper +it is written upon. You must have some reason for what you write, or +some object which you keep in view, if you are to make any impression on +the reader. + +Many of you who are beginners will probably explain that your object in +writing is solely to entertain (and a very good object it is). In that +case, see to it that your writing _is_ entertaining. Don't let it be +flat and colourless and tepid for pages at a stretch. + +But you must remember that every book should be entertaining. This is as +much a primary necessity as that every book should be grammatical. It is +another way of saying that every book must interest people. Yet how few +amateurs stop to consider whether what they write is really +entertaining? + +Ask yourself, after your MS. is completed, "If I saw this in print, +should I be so impressed with it that I should write off at once to my +friends and urge them to buy it, and mention it to all my acquaintances +as something well worth their getting and reading?" If not--why not? + +If you can criticise your own work dispassionately in this way, it will +help you to detect some of your own weak points. But, unfortunately, so +few of us can look dispassionately upon the children of our own brain! + + + + +Form Should Be Considered + + +Form which plays a very important part in the construction of +literature, means shape and order; it means also definite restrictions. + +Though we do not realise it at first, these restrictions are +particularly desirable. Without them, we might go writing on and on, +till no one could follow us in our meanderings, the brain would be +worn-out with the attempt. Yet these same restrictions are what the +novice most resents, or at any rate is inclined to flout. + +Nevertheless, you must abide by certain rules if your work is to be +readable and profitable. + +[Sidenote: Established Rules save our Wasting Time on Experiments] + +You may regard all rules as arbitrary. I know how inclined one is, when +only just beginning to feel one's feet, to kick down every sort or prop +and barrier and sign-post and ledge, in order to run riot, without let +or hindrance, over all the earth. But we cannot do this when we are only +learning to walk, without tumbling down and acquiring bruises; and then +we lose a certain amount of time in picking ourselves up and getting +our bearings again. + +While the thought of starting out on brand-new adventure, without any +one's advice or dictation, is very enticing, the wise person is he who +first of all avails himself of the discoveries already made by other +folk (a time-saving policy to say the least of it). Then, when he has +assimilated as much as he can of what others before him have found out, +he can experiment on his own, and start on a voyage of discovery into +truly unknown lands. But it is sheer waste of energy to go pioneering +over land that has already been thoroughly investigated, and mapped out, +by men and women who have gone before us. + +And although we may consider the limitations of Form in Art as quite +superfluous in our own particular case, it is well to get thoroughly +acquainted with them, bearing in mind the fact that thousands of writers +for centuries past have been handling the subject, experimenting along +these same lines, often asking the same questions that we are asking. +And all whose opinions were worth anything came to the same conclusion, +viz:--that strict attention to Form is necessary in all creative work, +if that work is to have lasting value. + +Therefore you might as well accept this at the outset, at any rate until +you have reached the stage where you can do exactly as you please and +still command the attention of an admiring universe. + +[Sidenote: The Three-Part Basis] + +All the master-minds seem to agree that a story, whether long or short, +should consist of three main parts. Indeed most of the art-products of +the brain are constructed on a three-part basis. Experience has shown +that this form is the most satisfying to the mind--and remember, one of +the essentials of a work of art is that it shall satisfy the mind with +that sense of fitness and completeness and appropriateness, so very hard +to define exactly in words, and yet so necessary to our enjoyment of +anything. + +A painting has foreground, middle distance and background. A musical +composition, if short, has generally a first part in one key, a second +part in the minor or a related key, and a third part that is often an +amplification of the first part with additional matter that brings it to +a satisfactory conclusion. If the composition be lengthy, such as a +sonata or symphony, its First Movement, Slow Movement and Finale are +labeled for all to understand. + +The three-volume novel of our grandmothers' day was a recognition of +the desirability of definite division. And although we do not now spread +our stories over so much paper, nor trim them with such wide margins and +three sets of covers, the three parts are still there, and in many cases +the author still marks them plainly for the reader, by dividing his work +into specified sections. + +Sometimes we find a 4th Act, and a 5th, in a play, just as we sometimes +have four movements in a sonata; but in most cases the extra act is +really only an episode, not a main division in itself, and usually +belongs to the second part. + +[Sidenote: The Divisions of a Story] + +Broadly speaking, the divisions of a story may be ticketed-- + + 1. Starting things. + 2. Developing things. + 3. Accomplishing things. + +The first part is devoted to introducing the characters; starting them +to work, according to some pre-arranged scheme in the author's mind; +laying in the background, and generally "getting acquainted." + +In the second part, the scheme or plot is developed; complications and +side issues, contrasting episodes and by-play may be introduced. This is +the place for the author to exercise all his ingenuity in seeming to +wander farther and farther from the solution of the problem of the +story, while in reality he is ever drawing the reader towards it. + +The third part is concerned with the actual solution of the problem, and +shows how all the previous happenings helped to bring about the climax +with which the story should end. + +[Sidenote: Length must be Taken into Consideration] + +The three parts may, or may not, be about equal in length; but if one is +longer than the other, it should be the middle part. It is never well to +introduce delays in the first part, nor are they desirable in the last +part. + +To be complex or episodical at the start is unwise; the reader likes to +get well under way moderately early, to know who everybody is and what +they are after. When your story is fairly launched, you can lengthen it +with diversions, descriptions, dialogues, and episodes, and, granted +they are interesting and have a direct bearing on the story, the reader +will not complain. + +But once you reach the third part, and start to gather up the scattered +characters and far-flung incidents, in order to unite them all into one +convincing conclusion, you must not dally, nor divert the reader's +attention from the main issue. + +You will see from the foregoing that it is necessary to fix the length +of your story before you start to work--otherwise you will not get it +properly balanced. I do not mean that you must tie yourself down to an +exact number of words for each part, any more than for the whole; but +you should settle, before you start, an approximate estimate of the +amount of space you will allow to each part, and then see that you keep +somewhere near it. + +For instance, the probability is that, unless you keep an eye on +yourself, you will overdo the detail in the first part. So many novices +start writing their story before they have half thought it out in all +its bearings; the result is that all sorts of new ideas come to them, +and fresh developments, and different aspects of the plot; and they add +to their original plan, work in fresh characters, amplify those that are +already there, till all sense of proportion is gone. Or they may have a +special liking for one particular character (invariably it is the one +who, they secretly think, represents their own tastes and aspirations), +and they will overdo this one with detail, and unduly spin out that +portion of the book. + +Then again, when we are fresh, and only starting a work, we are more +inclined to stroll leisurely among voluminous particulars, and write +all that comes into our head, than we are when we have written forty +thousand words, and are wishing we could get the rest of it out of our +brain, and down on the paper, with less physical, as well as less +mental, effort! + +Therefore, when you eventually revise your MS. as a whole, overhaul the +first section very thoroughly, cutting it down ruthlessly if you find +you have been unduly diffuse. + +Nowadays a story that drags at the outset is doomed. + +[Sidenote: Form as Applied to Articles] + +But fiction is not the only class of writing ruled by Form; articles, +essays, verse are all subject to a certain order of presentation, and +certain restrictions, which no writer can ignore without lessening the +effectiveness of his work--and in the main the threefold basis applies +to all. + +When writing an essay or an article, it is useful to make your divisions +as follows-- + +1. State your theme and your reasons for its choice. (In other words: +make it quite clear to your readers what you are going to write about, +and why you decided to write about it.) + +2. Say what you have to say about it. + +3. Give the conclusions to be drawn therefrom. + +Here, as in the case of fiction, it is desirable to get right into your +subject quickly, never "side-tracking" the readers' mind on to a +subsidiary topic until they have a firm hold of your main theme. Ruskin +was particularly tiresome in the way he would turn off at a tangent, and +start talking about some minor matter, before the reader had grasped +what subject he was proposing to deal with. + +After you have turned your theme inside out, in the second part, and +told all the points about it that you think will be new to your reader, +make your third part a climax, in that it works up to a definite +conclusion. + +It does not matter what the subject of your article, broadly speaking it +should be built on these lines, since this is the form in which the +human mind seems best able to take in information. You cannot expect +people to follow your descriptions, your arguments, or your objections, +if they do not know what you are talking about; hence the need for a +very clear presentation of your subject at the beginning. + +And, in order to leave your reader in a satisfied frame of mind, _i.e._ +with a sense of certainty that things were brought to their logical +conclusion--also an essential in a work of art--the third section must +be primarily occupied with the reasons for, or the outcome of, or the +deductions to be drawn from, that which has gone before. + +This leaves the middle section of the article for digressions, side +issues, or any other form of amplification. + +Once the student recognises how desirable are the laws of Form, how they +give shape and proportion and cohesion to matter that would otherwise be +void and hopeless, he will realise how impossible it is to do good work +without preliminary thought, and careful planning. And he will also +understand how it is that MSS. which are merely "dashed off" without any +preparatory work, those that "just came of their own accord," as the +authors sometimes boast, invariably fail to arouse a spark of enthusiasm +in the soul of an editor. + + + + +Right Selection Is Important + + +The mere fact that the sun never sets on the British Empire does not +necessitate our including the whole of it in one MS. Yet some beginners +seem most industriously anxious to do this. + +Amateurs may be divided roughly into two classes: those who tell too +little, and those who tell too much. The majority come under the latter +heading. The literary artist is he who knows exactly what to select from +the mass of material before him (in order to make the reader see what he +himself sees); and what to discard as non-essential. + +I am inclined to think that the instinct for selection is largely born, +not made. It is one of the channels through which genius betrays itself. +Very few great artists can explain why they chose one particular set of +items for their canvas, or their book, and ignored others; or why that +particular set conveys a sense of beauty to the observer, when another +set would make no such appeal. + +Yet the sense or instinct can be cultivated to some extent, and the +first step is to recognise the necessity for careful selection. Few +beginners give a thought to the matter. They imagine that all they have +to do, when they set out to tell a story, or describe some incident or +scene, is to say all they can about it--the more the better. + +"I never spare myself where detail is concerned," a would-be contributor +wrote when offering a magazine article. Unfortunately she did not spare +me either; there were fifty-seven pages of close, nearly illegible +writing, describing the tombs of some long-dead unknowns in an +out-of-the-way Continental church. + +To enumerate every single item is not Art; it is cataloguing. + +Slight themes require but few details. + +[Sidenote: Training Yourself in the Matter of Selection] + +Look your subject well over before you write a line; decide what are its +outstanding features, which are its most prominent characteristics, and +what it is absolutely necessary to say about it, in order to give a +clear presentment. At the same time, note what is irrelevant to the main +purport of your writing, and what is comparatively unimportant. + +After all, the mind can only take in a certain amount of detail, a +certain number of facts; and as it cannot absorb everything, a limit +has to be placed somewhere. Common sense tells us that since something +must be left out, it is well to omit the colourless, unimportant data +that never will be missed! + +In every scene there are always definite points that arrest the +attention and give character to the whole, and many other points that +really do not make very much difference one way or the other. The artist +(whether he be making word-pictures or colour-pictures) selects those +points that give the most character to the scene, those incidents which +convey the most comprehensive idea of the place and the people and their +doings, in the fewest words. + +If you are writing a story, it is seldom necessary to describe every +thing appertaining to, and every one connected with, the heroine, for +example--at any rate, not on her first appearance. Her home, her +relations, her dress, can often be dealt with in a few sentences; but +those sentences must contain just the facts that give the key to the +whole situation. + +Probably it will not throw any vivid light on the lady if you state that +her drawing-room was upholstered in old rose, and she herself devoted to +chocolate; because the virtuous no less than the wicked, the most +advanced feminist as well as the silliest bundle of vanity, might all +have equal leanings toward old rose and be addicted to chocolate. But if +you state, either that she was reading a first edition of Dante, or +cutting out flannelette undergarments for the sewing meeting, or +powdering her chalky nose in public--the reader will have some sort of +clue as to your heroine's personality. An instinct for selection will +tell you which item will characterise a person most accurately. + +In the same way some incidents will directly affect the whole trend of a +story, others leave the main issues untouched. Select the incidents that +matter, and leave those that merely mark time without taking the reader +any further. + +[Sidenote: Caricature is not Characterization] + +But while it is desirable to record outstanding features, it is not +wise, as a rule, to emphasise mere peculiarities, as this only tends to +stamp one's writing as unnatural, exaggerated, or caricature. Far better +seize on general topical characteristics, only select those that are +prominent, colourful, and vigorous, rather than neutral, insipid traits +or happenings. + +People reading Kipling's story, "The Cat that walked by itself," +invariably exclaim, "That's just like _our_ cat!" Yet in all +probability Kipling's cat was not at all like either of their cats. He +merely chose the typical characteristics common to all cats, and each +person immediately sees his own individual pussy in the picture. + +A lack of an instinct for selection is one of the commonest failings in +amateurs, and is responsible for the rejection of an endless stream of +MSS. For this reason it is desirable that the beginner should pay +special heed to the subject, and note to what extent he is making actual +selection, or whether he is merely jotting down all and sundry in +haphazard unconcern. + + + + +When Writing Articles + + +There are two main difficulties in writing an article; one is to get a +good beginning, the other is to get a good ending. If you know your +subject well (and it is useless to write on a subject you do not know +well), it is wonderful how the middle portion takes care of itself in +comparison with the care that has to be bestowed on the entrance and +exit. + +I have seen amateurs write and write and re-write their opening +paragraphs (with intervals of perplexed pen-nibbling in between), +crossing out a sentence as soon as they put it down, interpolating fresh +ideas that ran off at a tangent, suddenly jumping back a hundred years +or so in their anxiety to start at the very beginning of the +subject--and finally tearing up their by-now-unreadable MS., and +commencing all over again. + +Here are two methods by which you may more easily get under way--and the +great thing is to get under way, and write _something_, then you at +least have a concrete MS. to pull to pieces and re-arrange and hammer +into shape. It is the blank paper, or the page you have crossed out and +then torn up in despair, that is so irritatingly non-productive! + +[Sidenote: Settle your Chronological Starting-point--and Stick to it] + +Decide, before you write a line, the exact point in the life-story of +your subject at which you will start. Remember that it is impossible to +say _everything_ about it, or give the whole of its history; therefore +settle quickly what can safely be left out concerning its antecedents +and early childhood without detriment to the subject as a whole. + +Once you have made up your mind as to the precise chronological starting +point, stick to it (half the initial trouble of getting into your +subject will be over if you do); and do not in the course of a few +paragraphs hark back to some previous happening or era, because you have +suddenly remembered something that might be made to bear on the subject. + +The way anxious writers will endeavour to tell every mortal thing that +can be told regarding the most distant prehistoric family connections of +their subject, is on a par with a certain type of chairman at a meeting, +who will persist in dilating on the sayings and doings of his +great-grandfather instead of dealing with the topic in hand. + +If I ask the untrained amateur to write me an article on "The Use of +Pigeons in War," the chances are all in favour of his starting with the +Ark, and talking for several paragraphs round the Dove with the olive +branch. By a natural and easy transition, he would presently be quoting, +"Oh for the wings of a dove!" Pliny's doves would have an innings, the +London pigeons of St. Paul's have honourable mention, the ornithological +significance of the botanical term _Aquilegia_ might be touched upon, +with other equally irrelevant or far-fetched allusions to the _Columbae_ +as a whole; and all this before any really serviceable information is +forthcoming under the heading specified. + +This is no exaggerated picture; it is the type of article frequently +submitted, and is due to a writer's lack of an instinct for selection, +and his determination to leave nothing unsaid. In the end, he of course +leaves a great deal unsaid, because the inevitable limitations of an +article make it impossible to give so much past history and still find +room to say what should be said about the present-day aspect. The space +is gone before the writer has barely got there! + +And because of this tendency to expend too much ink at the beginning on +details that are too far removed from the central point of interest to +be worth recording, I will give another hint that may occasionally prove +useful. + +[Sidenote: When in Doubt--Begin in the Middle] + +When in doubt where to start, begin in the middle; _i.e._ attack the +subject where the interest seems to focus; or launch out without any +preliminary whatever, into the very heart of the matter. It is quite +possible it may prove to be the beginning! + +The desirability of shaping an article according to the definite rules +of form was dealt with on page 136. A careful planning of the form +beforehand will help the writer to keep his article properly balanced, +and to avoid over-weighting it unduly with unimportant data at the +outset. + +[Sidenote: When you have Finished--Leave off] + +With regard to the wind-up of an article, here again the writer has much +in common with the speaker, and happy is he who knows instinctively just +when to leave off. So few do! + +Failing an instinctive perception of the right ending, or the desirable +climax, the writer can deliberately plan one and then work up to it. And +it is well to plan it fairly early, in order to make the whole of the +article gravitate toward this finale. + +[Sidenote: It is the Final Impression that Counts] + +In writing, as in so many other things, it is the final impression that +counts. The reader's attitude of mind, when he comes to the end of the +last page, is a powerful factor in settling your success as a writer. If +you end lamely, with non-effective sentences, or with pointless +indecision--if, in short, the reader does not feel he has got somewhere +or achieved something by reading the article, he will not be remarkably +keen on anything else you may write. + +The beginner seldom pauses to inquire: What is my object in writing this +article? If I were to put the question to a number of would-be authors, +and they replied truthfully, they would say, "To see myself in print," +or, "To make money"; yet I cannot reiterate too often that what we write +must have more in the way of backbone than this. The reason that +thousands of MSS. are returned to the senders every year is because +those senders had no other object in view, apart from money-making or +getting into print. + +Decide therefore on a more useful object--useful, that is, from the +reader's point of view. The reader does not care one iota whether you +are going to make money, or whether you now see yourself in print for +the first time. The point _he_ is concerned with is what he himself gets +out of his reading--whether he has been amused and entertained, or has +gained information, or a new light on an old subject, or a spiritual +uplift, or useful facts, or some fresh interest, or a soothing narcotic +for an anxious brain. + +And you must have some such object in mind, when you plan the shortest +article, no less than when you scheme out a novel. + +In writing the article on "The Use of Pigeons in War" your object might +be the giving of information that would be fresh to the public (and we +never need trouble to tell them that which they know already); +information calculated to increase their knowledge of the ways in which +we waged the great war for the world's freedom, and also to give them a +new interest in these wonderful birds. Bearing all this in mind, it will +be seen at once that the preamble about the Ark would be quite +unnecessary, since it would convey no new information whatever. + +Mere recapitulation of ancient well-known facts is never desirable, +outside a text-book. + +[Sidenote: Keep an Eye on Topicality] + +Topicality has often much to do with the acceptance of an article; but +the beginner seldom takes this point into consideration. The finest +article one could write would be turned down if the subject were out of +date--and twenty-four hours make all the difference. We move at such +express speed, and events hurry past at such a rapid rate, that the +article an editor would jump at to-day may be useless to him to-morrow; +the book that would be marketable this season may be unsaleable next. + +Of course this does not apply to every MS., but it does to a good many, +and particularly in regard to articles for periodicals. If you think +your subject will have special interest for the public at the +moment--send it at once, and if it is the burning question of the day, +send it to a newspaper rather than to a magazine, remembering that +magazines have to go to press some weeks before the date of publication. +If a magazine editor receives your MS. January 1st, the very earliest he +could get it into his magazine would probably be April, and the chances +are he would have everything planned and set up until May. In the +_Girls' Own Paper and Woman's Magazine_, for instance, the final sheet +of the September number has to be passed for press the first week in +June. + +Bearing these facts in mind, you will realise that it is useless to send +an article on a Christmassy subject to an editor in November. His +Christmas number was probably put together in August, and by November it +is travelling by train or steamer, bullock-wagon or native carrier, to +distant parts of the world. + +[Sidenote: Articles that are not Wanted] + +And I must mention another fault common with beginners. It is useless to +offer articles that are nothing more than a _rechauffe_ of encyclopaedic +facts. Any schoolboy can string together text-book information, and +compile facts from other people's works. + +If your article is on an old-established theory, or some well-known +theme, you must contribute some new personal experience, if it is to be +of any worth. Readers will not pay for books or articles that contain +nothing but what they could write themselves, given the time and the +works of reference. + +Then, again, it is useless to choose a subject merely because it appeals +to you personally; if there is no likelihood of its appealing to the +majority of the readers, it is valueless to an editor. + +[Sidenote: Study the Readers' Preference no less than your Own] + +The business of writing is like every other business in that +self-effacement may contribute much to success. The good business man +does not spend his time talking about his own tastes and achievements +and preferences; he keeps an eye on what interests his customers and +talks about that. + +The good writer does not write merely to air his own likes and dislikes +and grievances, or to impress people with his own attainments and good +fortune; he keeps his eye on what interests his readers (who are his +customers) and follows this up in some degree in his writings. + +This need not mean any relinquishing of personal ideals, or pandering to +cheap tastes. The readers' ideals may be as high--or even higher--than +yours; their tastes may be quite as refined--but they are not +necessarily the same as yours. Therefore, study what will interest them +to read rather than what it will interest you that they should read. +Think it out, and you will find there may be a world of difference +between the two. + +[Sidenote: Send Suitable Articles to Likely Magazines] + +Writers are often told to study the type of articles appearing in the +magazine in which they are anxious to see their own work published. This +is very sound advice. The unsuitabilities that are offered at times are +past counting. A man wrote recently to the editor of a prominent +Missionary Monthly: "I notice you have no chess columns in your paper. I +could supply one regularly, and I assure you it would help your +circulation considerably." For the _Woman's Magazine_ I have been +offered murder stories of the most lurid and revolting character; +articles on "Seal-hunting in the Arctic as a Sport," "Curiosities in +Kite-Flying," "The Making of Modern Motor Roads," and others equally +outside the range of women's activities even in these days of wide-flung +doors. + +[Sidenote: Editors do not want Repeat-Subjects as a Rule] + +Avoid offering articles on subjects that have already been dealt with in +a periodical. Unless you have unique and valuable information to add to +that already given, space cannot be spared to repeat matter. Moreover, +the public does not want to pay twice for the same thing--and that is +what it would amount to. + +It is no recommendation to write to an editor, "I see you have an +article on 'Glow-worms as a Hat-Trimming' in your last issue; I am +therefore sending you another article on the same subject." Unless you +have some new and really informing data to contribute, the probability +is that you would only be covering the same ground as the previous +writer. + +Neither are you likely to get your MS. accepted if you write, "I have +read the article on 'Glow-worms' in your last issue, and disagree with +many of the statements made therein. Far from glow-worms being things of +elusive beauty and suggestive of fairyland, as your contributor calls +them. I regard them as noxious pests. I have written my views in detail, +and hope you will be able to publish the article in your next issue to +counteract the wrong impression that the other one conveyed." + +Now, an editor to a large extent identifies himself with the views +expressed in the pages of the paper he edits. And had he not approved of +the statements made, he would not have been inclined to print them in an +ordinary non-controversial paper. Is it likely, then, that he would want +another contribution calmly informing his readers that the previous +article was entirely wrong and unreliable? + +[Sidenote: On The Subject of "How to----"] + +Most editors are overdone with the usual "How to--" articles. The public +has by now been told "How to" do everything under the sun, I am inclined +to think; but if you feel it laid upon your soul to impart still +further instruction--try to find a fresh form of title. + +Do not choose too big a subject. "Heaven," "Human Nature," "Eternity," +and kindred themes are beyond the powers of any mortal--much less the +beginner. + +Get right away from hackneyed phrases and allusions. So many MSS. are +peppered throughout with such expressions as "all sorts and conditions"; +"common or garden"; "let us return to our muttons"; "tell it not in +Gath"; "but we must not anticipate." + +If you feel drawn to write an essay on "Friendship," it is not necessary +to start with David and Jonathan; they have already been mentioned--more +than once, in fact--in this connection. Neither is it desirable, when +writing about Jerusalem to quote, "a city that is set on a hill cannot +be hid." + +Variety is always pleasing, and editors do like to come upon something, +occasionally, that they have not read more than a dozen times before. + + + + +Suggestions for Style + + +If you are writing with the object of giving information, avoid the +indefinite style. Either make a clear, decided statement (if you are +competent to do so), or leave the matter alone. You not only weaken the +force of your statements, and smudge your meaning, by beating about the +bush and walking round your subject, but you cast doubts in the reader's +mind as to whether you are fully qualified to write about it at all. + +Here is an extract from an article sent to me on "The Cultivation of +Broad Beans." Speaking of blight, the writer says: "I would not presume +to dictate to the experienced gardener, who doubtless has his own method +of dealing with the black blight that is so common on these plants; but +for the benefit of the novice I would say that, personally, I always +find it a good plan to nip off the tops of the beans so soon as the +black fly appears. And, failing a better plan, the amateur might try +this." + +Articles written in this strain are fairly common, and are often the +outcome of modesty on the part of a writer who does not wish to appear +too dogmatic, or "to take too much upon himself." But from the utility +point of view they are poor stuff, and are suffering as much from +"blight" as the unfortunate beans, since each statement seems to be +disparaged in some way by the over-diffident author! + +Either the remedy suggested for the black fly _is_ a remedy, or it +isn't. If it is a remedy, then it is as applicable to the bean owned by +the experienced gardener as to the one owned by the novice. In short--if +it be advantageous to nip off the tops of blighted broad beans, the +writer should have said so in simple English, without apologising for +his temerity in making the statement, and thereby discounting all he +says. + +[Sidenote: Ambiguity must not be Allowed to Pass] + +Aim at writing with accuracy, clearness and precision. Ambiguity should +never be allowed to pass. Any sentence that you feel to be in the +slightest degree uncertain, or obscure, as to meaning should be reworded +so as to leave no doubt whatever as to your meaning. + +If, on re-reading your article, you are not quite sure what you meant +when you wrote any passage, take it out altogether. Do not leave it in +to puzzle the reader, even though you add a footnote--as Ruskin +did--explaining that you have no idea what you meant when you wrote it. + +In order to avoid an ambiguous style, two things are necessary: the +ability to think clearly and concisely, and the ability to write down +exactly what one thinks. + +[Sidenote: The Subject Should Regulate the Choice of Words] + +The choice of words should be influenced by the subject of your writing. +A dignified subject calls for dignified language. A racy subject calls +for racy language; and so on. + +If your theme be a lofty one, do not "let down" the train of lofty +thought it should engender, by introducing some word or phrase that +induces a much lower--or a different--plane of thought and ideas. It is +a backward policy, to say the least of it, to weaken, or obliterate, by +ill-chosen language, the ideas you set out to foster in the reader. It +is no extenuation to plead that the jarring phrase is particularly +expressive; if it actually counteracts the ideas you seek to convey, it +cannot be expressing your meaning. + +The beginner often gets himself tied up in a knot with negatives; and +even if he steer clear of actual error, he is apt to overdo himself with +double negatives. It is better to make a direct statement in the +affirmative if possible, than to involve it in negatives. + +Instead of saying "a not uncommon fault," it is clearer at first sight +if you say "a common fault," or "a fairly common fault." I know it does +not always follow that the exact reverse fulfils the purpose of the +double negative; a fault may be "not uncommon" and yet not exactly +common. Nevertheless it is always possible to get the precise shade of +meaning in the affirmative; and until a writer is quite fluent, it is +better not to risk confusing the reader's mind by the introduction of +too many negatives. + +[Sidenote: The Tendency to Use Involved Sentences] + +In the praiseworthy desire to use fine English, the beginner is very apt +to get a sentence such a mixed-up maze of words that there seems little +hope of the meaning ever getting out alive at the other end! + +I take this from a MS. just to hand:-- + +"Not that her parents would have entirely agreed with the supposition +that there might have been that in his character which, had he not felt +himself unequal to the task which affected him not a little in its +apparent issue, even though actually simple in its ultimate object, it +would have been possible for him to utilise to such an extent that he +might not have entirely disappointed their none too sanguine estimate +of his ability." + +I admit that all amateurs do not rise to such cloud-wrapped heights; but +many are nearly as bad! + +Then, again, I have known the idea the author had in view when he +started a paragraph, to get lost half-way through! This is due to the +fact that the mind has not been trained to sustain consecutive thinking, +but is permitted to veer round to all points of the compass like a +weather-cock. + +[Sidenote: "Every Why hath a Wherefore"] + +If you enunciate a problem, see that you give the solution. If you start +to elucidate some theory (or the reader is led to believe that you are +going to elucidate it), do not forget all about it, and switch off to +something else. + +If you have no solution to offer, it is wiser and more satisfactory, as +a general rule, not to put forward a problem at the close. A sense of +incompleteness--or of something still awaiting fulfilment--is as +disastrous to the success of an article as it is to the success of a +book. + +[Sidenote: Undesirables] + +Beware of labouring a thought. If your point is only a slight one, do +not reiterate it in various forms or over-embellish it. + +If no big idea lies behind your sentences, no amount of impressive, +ornate language will make your writing great. + +People sometimes think that a fanciful style of writing will hide +defects; whereas, on the contrary, it often emphasises them. + +Avoid using many quotation marks and italics; they make a page look +fidgety. Also they indicate weakness. If your remarks are not strong +enough to stand alone, without words or phrases being propped up by +quotes or underlinings, they are no better when so decorated. + +A lavish use of extracts from other people's writings is undesirable. As +I have said elsewhere, neither the publisher nor the reader is keen to +pay for what they can read--and probably have already read--elsewhere. + +A pedantic style of phraseology, and a desire to let other people see +how much one knows, are amateur failings. + +Some beginners go to the other extreme, and adopt a slangy, +purposely-ungrammatical style, with the beginnings and finals of words +clipped away, and a cultivated slovenliness that they imagine gives a +picturesque quality, or an ultra up-to-dateness, to their writing. + +But no good work is ever built on such foundations. The first thing to +aim for is clarity, and the ability to express yourself in an easy, +natural and concise manner, always using the fewest and the best words +for the purpose, and employing them according to modern methods. + +[Sidenote: Improbabilities, misnamed "Imaginative Writing"] + +Amateurs often lean towards the improbable--calling it imaginative +work--partly because they fancy they are less hampered by rules and +restrictions than if they take everyday, mundane subjects. Yet--paradox +though it may seem--the improbable must be bounded by probability in its +own sphere; and imagination must be kept within definite limits and work +according to definite forms--else it is no better than the gibberings of +an unhinged mind. + +Beginners frequently choose the moon, the stars, or the ether as the +background for their imaginary characters; or they revel in after-death +scenes that are supposed to represent the next world--either of +suffering or of happiness. And a favourite ending is something like +this, "Suddenly I awoke, and lo, it was only a dream," etc. + +Avoid all these hackneyed themes, and obvious tricks. + +It takes a Dante to lead us convincingly through the mazes of an unknown +world. + +Perhaps you feel that you are a Dante? Possibly you are: greatness must +make a start somewhere. But in that case, there will be no need for you +to strain after effect; genius can be evinced in the treatment of the +simplest subjects. + +Therefore experiment at the outset with everyday themes, and perfect +your style in this direction before embarking on a very ambitious +programme: we must learn to walk before we can run. The airman does not +start turning somersaults the first time he goes aloft (or, if he does, +that is the last time we hear of him, poor fellow). + +It is a mistake to think that the undisciplined wanderings of an +untrained mind betoken imaginative genius. It is the way one handles the +commonplace that reveals the true artist; and style plays an important +part in this, though it is by no means everything! + +The question of imaginative work is big enough to deserve a volume to +itself: much has already been written on the subject, and much remains +to be said--too much to make it possible to do it justice in a book of +this description. But I mention it here, in passing, to warn the +beginner against spending much time on work that is not imaginative but +merely impossible, until thoroughly grounded in the rudiments of his +craft. + +[Sidenote: Pecularity is not Originality] + +Literature seldom gains by peculiarities of style or marked mannerisms, +even though these are to be found in the works of certain writers who +are of unquestionable ability. Such devices tend to become monotonous, +and as a rule the public will only tolerate them when the subject matter +of a book is so good that it is worth while to plough through the +writer's mannerisms to get at it--_i.e._ mannerisms are put up with only +when the writer is great in spite of them: no one is great because of +his mannerisms; they are only superficial disturbances. + +I am not saying this to discourage any attempt at originality of style; +real originality is usually most desirable; what I am anxious to impress +on the beginner is the fact that mere peculiarity is not originality. + +Nor will it benefit anyone's work to copy the mannerisms of great +writers--since these are often their defects. + +[Sidenote: Mannerisms are soon Out of Date] + +It must also be remembered that many mannerisms are nothing more than +fashions of the moment, just as most slang is; and in these rapid times +they quickly become out of date, whereupon they give a book an +antiquated touch. And few things are more difficult to survive than an +atmosphere that is merely old-fashioned and nothing more. + +It will be quite time enough, when you are expert at writing clear, +understandable English, to decide whether your genius can best find +expression in long and complicated sentences as used by Henry James, or +in such cynical scintillations as those favoured by Bernard Shaw, OF in +the paradoxical methods of G. K. Chesterton, or what you will. No limit +need be set once a person has ideas to give the world, and can write +them down in simple, direct, well-chosen language. + + + + +The Ubiquitous Fragment + + +Amateurs often think it is much easier to write a "fragment" than to +write a complete anything. The one who hesitates as to whether he has +the ability to write a long story, is quite sure he is capable of +writing a fragmentary bit of fiction--one of those vague scraps with +neither beginning nor ending that are always tumbling into the editor's +letter-box--and he feels that all vagueness, and lack of finish, and the +fact that the MS. gets nowhere, are sanctioned because he adds, as a +sub-title some such qualification as "An Episode," or "A Character +Study," or "A Glimpse." + +In the same way a writer who is too diffident to attempt a volume of +essays, will feel perfect confidence in sending out a MS. labelled "A +Reverie," or "A Meditation," even though it be nothing more than a +rambling collection of platitudes on the sunset. + +In most cases it is a distrust of his own powers that inclines the +amateur to embark on writing of this type. + +[Sidenote: A Fragment may be Incomplete, but it should not be Formless] + +Fragments may be exceedingly beautiful; they are really most acceptable +in this hurrying age when life often seems too crowded with work-a-day +cares to leave us much leisure for sustained reading. But they must +embody the fundamental principles of Form; and they must be constructed +with even more attention to artistic presentment, (or the means used to +captivate the reader), than would be necessary for a lengthier work. + +Also, though they are but fragmentary, they must appear to be portions +of a desirable whole, sections of a well-finished piece of work. Their +apparent incompleteness should seem due to the author having +insufficient time--not insufficient knowledge--to finish them. + +What is set down must not only be good work in itself, but it must +suggest other good work as a completion. + +You have probably seen some reproduction of a fragmentary pencil or +pen-and-ink sketch, by an experienced artist, showing only a portion of +a figure or a building; yet so suggestive that the onlooker +instinctively fills in the remainder, and constructs out of the artist's +unfinished drawing a picture complete and beautiful. + +I have several such sketches before me on my study wall. One shows a +corner of a quadrangle in the precincts of a cathedral. In the +background there is a Gothic west window, a buttress, and a piece of a +tower; while a flight of steps in a corner of the quadrangle, a bit of +old-world stone-work around a doorway and window, a fragment of roof and +a cluster of chimneys, with half a dozen lines indicating an ancient +flagged walk, comprise the remainder. Only a few inches of paper and a +few pen-strokes--nevertheless instinctively the mind runs on, and sees +the whole of the cathedral in the shadowy background; the side of the +quadrangle past the old doorway; even the street beyond with its cobble +stones and market women. Indeed, you can visualise all the life of the +quaint sleepy, French town if you look long enough at the little +fragment; not because it is all indicated by the artist and left in an +incomplete state, but because what he did put down is so vital, so +suggestive, so fraught with possibilities, that the mind fills in all +the blanks, and fills them in with beauty corresponding with the +specimen he has shown us. + +And while we are studying the sketch, it may be noticed that though this +is but an unfinished fragment, it is perfectly balanced, and shapely +and proportionate as it stands. The patch of light on the flagged path +is balanced by the shadow in the doorway. The flight of crumbling stone +steps, the most conspicuous feature in the foreground, has been drawn +with the utmost pains in every detail. Even the cathedral window looming +in the background has its exquisite tracery carefully drawn, no scamping +the work because it was only the background of an incomplete sketch. + +In the same way, a fragmentary word picture should be properly +constructed, and absolutely accurate in detail (so far as that detail +goes), well proportioned, carefully balanced, containing distinct charm +in itself. The background may be only lightly indicated, but even so, it +should contain possibilities--(the cathedral may be in misty shadow, but +you must be able to see enough of it to know that it _is_ a cathedral, +and a great cathedral at that). + +The central idea must be placed well in the foreground, it should be +clearly stated, and be something worth calling an idea. + +The points you mention, but leave unamplified should be something more +than windowless, blank walls, or blind alleys leading nowhere; they +should open up fresh vistas of thought, and send the reader's mind out +and beyond the limits of your sentences. + +Your word-picture must be satisfying in itself, even though one realises +that it is but a small part of a much larger whole that might have been +written, had time and space permitted. + +Certain literary fragments extant are probably portions of large works +the authors had in view but did not finish; Coleridge's "Kubla Khan," +for instance. The type of fragment I am talking about in this chapter, +however, is actually finished, so far as the author's handling is +concerned; but unfinished in detail and setting, or with only a +vignetted background. + +Some writers have set down a few lines with neither introduction nor +development plot, yet such is the force and the revealing quality of the +sentences they put down, and the accuracy of their sense of selection, +that they have conveyed as much, and suggested as much, to the mind of +the reader as if they had written pages. The following verse of William +Allingham is an example Here is a volume of suggestion in seven lines. + + Four ducks on a pond, + A grass bank beyond, + A blue sky of spring, + White clouds on the wing:-- + What a little thing + To remember for years-- + To remember with tears! + +Tennyson wrote some beautiful fragments. "Flower in a Crannied Wall" +contains a world of thought, and could easily furnish a theme for a row +of ponderous books; "Break, break, break," has poignant possibilities. + +William Sharp, as "Fiona Macleod," wrote some charming prose fragments; +but behind each you will invariably find a complete idea, and an idea +that suggests others. + +Practise writing fragments by all means, but see that they are shapely, +and suggestive of greater space and a bigger outlook than can be +measured by the number of sentences. Above all, let each embody some +idea--and let there be no uncertainty as to the whereabouts of that +idea, no ambiguity as to what you are driving at. + +To produce a good fragment you must do some intensive thinking, because +you have not space to spread yourself out. This will be a gain to all +your writing. The rambling, formless habit of thinking is the bane of +the amateur, and the type of MSS. resulting therefrom is the bane of the +editor. + + + + +Concerning Local Colour + + +Local colour can be a powerful factor in enhancing the charm of a story +or article. It may be introduced as the background against which the +scene is laid; or as a sidelight on the scenery, customs, and types of +people peculiar to a district. Anything can be utilised that conjures up +in the reader's mind the idiosyncrasies of a definite locality--only it +must be something that _will_ conjure up the scene. + +One advantage of local colour is the opportunity it gives the writer of +a double hold on the reader's interest--he may captivate by the setting +of his theme no less than by the theme itself. Also it enables him more +effectually to take the reader "out of himself," and place him in a new +environment--an essential point if that reader is to become absorbed in +what he is reading. + +Mere verbatim description of scenery is not the best way to work in +local colour; it is liable to become guide-booky. Neither is a catalogue +of the beauty spots of a locality any better. Usually the most +advantageous method is a judicious, illuminating touch here and there, +revealing outstanding characteristics, and emphasising the material +things that give "colour," _i.e._, variety and vivid distinction, to a +scene. + +They may be topographical characteristics or they may be personal +characteristics. + +Beginners think that local colour is primarily a matter of hills and +hedgerows, sunbonnets and smocks--the picturesque element that we look +for in the countryside. But conversation can give local colour to a +story without a single descriptive sentence. Pett Ridge can transport +you in an instant to the heart of Hoxton or the Walworth Road, by means +of some bit of cockney dialect. W. W. Jacobs will give a salty, +far-sea-faring flavour to the most untravelled public-house in Poplar, +in merely recounting a trifling difference of opinion between some of +the customers! + +Local colour has justified the existence of more than one book that is +thin both in literary quality and in plot; _The Lady of the Lake_ is an +instance. But I do not advocate a writer aiming for success on similar +lines. + +Some words and expressions open up a much wider vista to the mind's eye +than do others. Consider your descriptive passages critically, and see +if, by a different choice of words, you can, in the same length of +sentence, give the reader a larger outlook. + +[Sidenote: American Writers excel in the Handling of Local Colour] + +Some British writers appreciate to the full the artistic value of local +colour (Rudyard Kipling and Mrs. F. A. Steel can make one feel as well +as see India; Blackmore's books breathe Devonshire; Lafcadio Hearn--if +one can call him British!--envelops one in the Oriental odour of +Japanese temples; Shan F. Bullock's stories are Ireland herself); but +many ignore its possibilities and set the scene with a nondescript +society background, or an equally non-commital rural haze. + +American writers make rather more use of local colour. And the reason is +clear: no other country presents so great a variety in the way of +climate, scenery, and human types as does the United States. An American +author need only sit down and write of what he sees immediately around +him, and, so long as he keeps away from such modern items as the +ubiquitous commercial traveller and advertisement signs, and devotes his +attention to natural objects and local paraphernalia (human and +otherwise), he is certain to be recording what is novelty to a large +proportion of his fellow-countrymen. Moreover Americans are more given +to dealing with things in a straightforward, unconventional manner than +are the British writers, writing of what they actually know and see +around them, unhampered by classical traditions and age-old literary +usages. Hence, there is often a freshness, a vividly-alive quality in +their descriptions, that can only be obtained by writing with a subject +red-hot in the mind. + +The author who merely rushes into the country for a few days, or spends +a couple of weeks on the Continent, or sprints through the European +ports of China, to obtain local colour, for a story, usually gets about +as "stagey" and artificial a result as does the home-keeping, +middle-class girl, who has her heroine presented at the Court of St. +James, and draws the local colour from the Society columns of a daily +paper! + +You must know your "locality" well yourself if you are to make the local +colour real to your readers; second-hand or hastily collected data are +no good. + +The would-be author will do well to study typically-American authors, +with a view to observing their use of local colour--particularly those +who wrote some of their best work before the motor-car and telephone +exercised their levelling and linking-up influences. + +To name one or two: Mary E. Wilkins and Sarah Orne Jewett have +specialised on New England village life; Charles Egbert Craddock (Miss +Murfree) on the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee; George Cable on +Louisiana; James Lane Allen on Kentucky; Amelie Rives, in her earlier +books, on Virginia; etc. + +And it is worth while noting that such writers give, not only pictures +of the scenery about them, but also an insight into the native +character. Thus both Mary E. Wilkins and Sarah Orne Jewett depicted the +rigid pride of the New Englanders, as well as the poor but picturesque +quality of the soil. George Cable showed the temperament of the +Southerner as well as the tropical glamour of the Southern States. Owen +Wister has made us love the large-hearted, child-like, primitive cowboy, +as well as feel the vastness and the very air of the plains and the +mountains of Wyoming. + +Such work is local colour at its best, since it gives us the human +traits as well as the scenic conditions predominating in a locality, and +enables us to form a mental picture of the people and the place as a +whole. + +Closely allied to this, is that most fascinating study--the effect of +climate, scenery, and general environment on character. But as that +subject is outside the purview of this book, I merely suggest it to the +student as something well worth following up, if there be an opportunity +for first-hand observation. + +For the novelist who specialises on temperamental delineation, it has +wide possibilities. + + + + +Creating Atmosphere + + +Have you ever seen a landscape painting that was one expanse of +correctness in detail, and yet seemed either utterly dead, or to walk +out of the canvas at every point and hit you violently in the eye? Such +a painting often has a bright-red tiled roof--every tile visible and in +its proper place; a violently blue sky decorated here and there with +solid masses of apparently unmeltable snow; grass an acute green; trees +emphatic as to outline, every branch clearly defined in its appointed +place; sheep standing out like pure-white snowflakes on the acute grass; +the smoke from the cottage chimney a thick grey mass suggesting a heavy +bale of wool; each brick, each window frame, each paling emphasised with +careful exactness. + +The amateur who produces a painting after this style is usually very +pleased with it, and attributes any adverse criticism, that a competent +artist may pass upon it, to professional jealousy! + +"What is wrong with it?" I have heard a student ask, when a master has +condemned such a canvas. "It was all there, every detail, exactly as I +have painted it." + +Yes, it may have been all there, but something else was there which the +artist omitted to include, and the something else was "atmosphere." The +artist may put in every twig and tile, every plant and pane of glass; +but if he omit the play of light, the glamour of haze, the mystery of +shadow, the marvellous suggestiveness of the undefined, his painting +will be lifeless and wooden, or altogether unbalanced, no matter how +accurate the drawing. + +Equally, the author needs atmosphere if his writing is to rise above the +dead level of the uninspired; but while one can define to some extent +(though not entirely) what is atmosphere in a painting, it is next to +impossible to give an exact definition of atmosphere in writing. It is +an elusive quality difficult to describe off-hand. So intangible is it +that you can seldom put your finger on a passage and say, "Here it is!" +yet all the while you may be fully conscious of there being--back of the +writing--something more than plot, or purpose. + +The atmosphere of a book may appertain to matters moral or material; it +may affect the mind or the emotions; it may be beneficial or baneful; it +may give colour or glamour, light or shade; it may be mysterious or +mesmeric. But whatever its trend, in the main it lies in suggestiveness +rather than in definite statement. Like its prototype, "atmosphere" in +writing is an unseen environment, yet it permeates and influences the +whole, giving it character and even vitality. + +[Sidenote: "Atmosphere" is Invaluable as a Time Saver] + +In writing it is possible to suggest a great deal that could not be +described in detail within the limits imposed on you by the length of +your book and the consideration of balance. Moreover, the things +suggested may be of secondary importance beside the main action of the +story, and yet be very useful in furthering the idea you have in mind, +or in helping to convey a particular impression. + +In such cases the introduction of atmosphere may do much for you. While +you give only a hint here and there, or a few sidelights in passing, you +may yet manage to convey to the readers a "feeling" that carries them +beyond the cut-and-dried facts you may be handling, or lifts them above +the mere working-out of a plot. It is the haze that may hide, and yet +indicate, a something in the distance, just beyond the range of +sight--and the suggestion of something still beyond is always alluring; +the infinite within us rebels against finite limitations, and welcomes +anything that points to further ideas, further possibilities. + +Thus atmosphere is invaluable as a time saver. Life is too short (and +the publisher too chary of his paper and printing bill) to allow any of +us, save the truly famous, to describe minutely the whole background of +our writing, spiritual, mental, or material. If we can, by a few +expressive words, or phrases, create an atmosphere that shall reproduce +in the reader's mind the train of thought, or the scene, that was in our +own mind as we wrote, we shall, obviously, be spared the making of many +sentences, and the covering of much paper with descriptive matter and +soul analyses, that might otherwise overweight our main theme. + +[Sidenote: Abstract Qualities are Usually Suggested] + +Atmosphere usually suggests some abstract quality rather than a concrete +item. We say that a work has an outdoor atmosphere or an old-world +atmosphere or a healthy atmosphere; or we may merely say "it has +atmosphere," meaning a subtle over- (or under-) current that clothes the +framework of the narrative with a glamour or a spiritual quality that +will help to reinforce, or mellow, or illuminate the author's picture. +But we do not say a book has a millionaire atmosphere, or a detective +atmosphere, even though the book be about these people. They correspond +with the solid objects in the landscape, and are quite distinct from the +atmospheric effects that can do so much to enhance the charm, or subdue +the sordidness, of these solid objects. + +It does not necessarily follow that the atmosphere of a book is a +wholesome one. There are some writers who create a positively poisonous +atmosphere for the mind; but, fortunately, the trend of humanity is in +the direction of clean thought and wholesome living, even though our +progress be slow and we encounter set-backs; and vicious books are +seldom long-livers, while those the public call for again and again are +invariably books with a healthy atmosphere. + +The student might make a special note of this! + +Atmosphere in a well-written book is often so unobtrusive that the +reader fails to recognise it as a specific element in the make-up of the +story that did not get there by accident. It is so easy to fall into the +error of thinking that this or that characteristic or ingredient is due +to the author's style, or temperament, or genius; certainly it may be +due to either or all of these things, but if it is worth anything it is +also due to a well-thought-out scheme on the part of the writer. + +In other words, atmosphere only gets into a work if it is put there. It +does not merely "happen along," and if you want your writing to be +imbued with atmosphere, you must supply it; it won't come of itself. And +before you can supply it, you must first think out what you want that +atmosphere to be and then decide how best you can secure it. + +[Sidenote: "Atmosphere" covers a Wide Range of Suggestion] + +It may have to do with spiritual aspects of life--high ideals, faith, +healthy thought, right living. Ruskin's _Sesame and Lilies_ comes under +this head, even though the subject-matter is not religious according to +our ordinary use of the word. From beginning to end one is thinking on a +higher plane than that of material consideration; one's thoughts are +continually branching out beyond the actual purport of the book as set +forth by the author. + +An old-world atmosphere has a special charm for many readers. We find it +in _Cranford_, Jane Austen's books, and many others of a bygone +period--though it should be noticed that in these cases the authors did +not purposely incorporate it in their work. They put atmosphere, +certainly; but it has only become an "old-world" atmosphere by the +courtesy of Father Time: in their own day, these books were quite +up-to-date productions. Certain modern books have an old-world +atmosphere--_The Broad Highway_ and _Our Admirable Betty_, by Jeffery +Farnol; _When Knighthood was in Flower_, by Charles Major (and many +others will occur to the mind); but in each case the old-world +atmosphere had to be put there very carefully by the author. + +The hysterical atmosphere needs no description. We know too well the +type of book that keeps its characters (and aims to keep its readers), +from the first chapter to the last, keyed up to an unnatural pitch of +emotionalism, with copious details about everybody's soulful feelings +and temperaments and lingerie. Books with this atmosphere were +constantly striving to get their heads above water in the years of this +century preceding the war. They are interesting from one, and only one, +point of view: they indicate the diseased mentality that has always come +to the surface in periods of the world's history prior to some great +human upheaval. + +A pessimistic atmosphere is fairly common--especially does it seem to +find favour with young writers. One of the best examples of a book with +a really pessimistic atmosphere is the _Rubaiyat_ of Omar Khayyam. + +Atmosphere has sometimes transformed the commonplace into something rare +and delightful. _Our Village_, by Miss Mitford, is an instance. Here you +have the most ordinary of everyday events described in such a way that +they are invested with a halo of charm. + +[Sidenote: To Create an Atmosphere] + +To create the atmosphere you desire, you must be thoroughly imbued with +it yourself--you cannot manufacture it out of nothing. It must so +possess you while you are at your work that it is liable to tinge all +you write. You will never make other people sense what you do not sense +yourself. + +For instance, it would not be possible for an out-and-out pagan to write +a book with a sympathetic evangelical atmosphere, any more than the +Kaiser could write a book imbued with the spirit of true Democracy. + +Then you must insinuate your atmosphere at times and seasons when it +will make the most impression on the reader without interfering with, or +hindering, the development of the story; remembering that it is always +better to suggest the atmosphere than to put it in with heavy strokes. + +You may wish to make a story the very breath of the out-doors. But in +order to do this, it would not be necessary to stop all the characters +in whatever they were saying or doing, while you describe scenery and +sunsets, or explain to the reader how "out-doory" everything and +everybody is! This would easily spoil the continuity and flow of the +whole, by switching the reader's mind off the plot and on to another +train of thought. Instead, you would make the whole book out-doory +without any pointed explanation--"setting the stage" in the open air as +much as possible, emphasising the features of the landscape rather than +boudoir decorations, mentioning the sound of the soughing trees or the +surging sea, rather than the tune the gramophone was playing; +introducing the scent of the larches in the spring sunshine rather than +the odour of tuberoses and stephanotis in a ballroom. In each case the +one would suggest freedom in the open air, while the other would suggest +conventionalities indoors. + +In some such way, you would rely on touches in passing to produce the +desired effect, always bearing in mind the importance of getting these +touches as telling as possible. + +Such allusions (often merely hinted at, rather than spoken) should be +equal in effectiveness to long paragraphs of detailed description; +therefore, choose carefully the means by which you hope to secure your +end. Your touches must be so true and so sure that they instantly +convey to the reader's mind your own mental atmosphere. + +In this, as much as in any other phase of writing, you need an instinct +for the essentials, _i.e._ a feeling that tells you instantly what will +contribute most surely to the making of the atmosphere you desire, and +what is relatively unimportant. + +Atmosphere is the element in your work that can least of all be faked +without detection--or cribbed from other writers. + +It must permeate the whole of your story whether long or short, and be +something beyond the mere words you write down. The readers must feel, +when they finally close the book, that they have got more from you than +what you actually said; that you led their thoughts in directions that +carried them off the highway of the obvious, giving them visions of +things that were unrecorded. + + + + +The Method of Presenting a Story + + +The method of presenting the story needs a little consideration. + +The most common, and the most desirable as a rule, is the narrative, +told in a third person; _i.e._ the writer relates a story about certain +people, but does not himself pose as a character involved in the story. +Beginners will do well to adhere to this type of story, until they have +attained to a certain amount of fluency with their ideas. + +[Sidenote: Writing in the First Person] + +Another popular method is the narrative told in the first person, _i.e._ +the writer relates a story about certain people, in which he also plays +a more or less important part. If well written, this form makes a +pleasant change from the story written in the third person; but it +necessitates a certain amount of experience on the part of the writer, +if it is to be saved from dulness. + +Moreover, its limitations are hampering to the beginner. If you are +writing in the third person, you, as the author, are allowed (by that +special concession granted to makers of fiction) to know everything that +every character in your story thinks or does. You may relate in one +paragraph what the hero was thinking and doing in San Francisco, and in +the next what the heroine was thinking and doing at the same moment in +New York. + +But if you are writing in the first person, you have not the same +licence to roam all over the universe, penetrating the deepest recesses +of people's lives and laying bare their secret thoughts to the glare of +day. You are supposed to stick to your own part and mind your own +business. If you manage to find out other people's business as the story +proceeds, there must be some sort of circumstantial evidence as to how +you found it out; it will not be enough merely to state that it is so, +as you could do were you writing in the third person. + +For instance, in a MS. I pick up from the pile on my table I read: + + "He paused when he reached the drawing-room door and glared at her, + livid with rage. She returned his look with one of haughty + indifference. Then he left the house, and as he walked along the + cheerless streets, he clenched his fists and hissed between his teeth, + 'You shall suffer for this.' She, meanwhile, rang the bell for tea and + resumed the novel upon which she had been engaged when he arrived." + +Told in the third person, it is easy to let the reader know what he and +she were thinking and saying and doing at the same moment. But supposing +you were writing all this in the first person with yourself as the +heroine, it would not be so easy to convey the same information to the +reader. You could write: + + "He paused when he reached the drawing-door and glared at me, livid + with rage. I returned his look with one of haughty indifference. Then + he left the house, and I rang the bell for tea and resumed the novel + upon which I had been engaged when he arrived." + +But if you wished to let the reader know how the bad-tempered creature +clenched and hissed, you would have to get at it by some round-about +means--your dearest friend might call at the moment and tell you that +she had just passed him in the cheerless street clenching and hissing; +or some other such device could be employed. But all this involves +extra thought and care in the construction of the story. + +[Sidenote: A Stumbling-block to the Amateur] + +Amateurs are much given to story-writing in the first person; it seems +such an easy method (when they know nothing about it); they invariably +see themselves in a leading part, and make the hero or heroine do and be +all they themselves would like to do and be. But they never go far +before they trip up against this block of stumbling--the impossibility +of the first person singular "I" being in two places at the same time, +and seeing inside people's hearts and brains, to say nothing of their +locked cupboards and secret drawers. + +Also, the beginner is apt to forget the _role_ he is supposed to be +playing when he puts himself into a story, and he lapses, at intervals, +into the third person. + +Sometimes, in order to dodge the difficulties, an author will write one +part in the form of a diary, thus enabling a character to talk about +herself (it is usually a feminine character who keeps a diary!). Then, +when the limitations of the first person singular hamper the progress of +the story, the diary is dropped for a time, while the author revels in +the all-embracing freedom of writing in the third person. + +This is a weak method, however, and plainly a subterfuge; being +practically an announcement that the author could not or would not take +the trouble to work the story through in correct form. It is also bad +from an artistic standpoint; it does not hang together well; past and +present tenses are apt to get mixed; it produces an unsatisfactory +feeling in the mind of the reader, who so often is in doubt as to +whether the author is writing as a character in the story or merely as +the author--and anything that leaves a confused, unsatisfactory feeling +in the reader's mind is poor art. + +[Sidenote: Writing a Story in the Form of a Diary] + +A story written entirely in the form of a diary is sometimes attempted. +And closely allied to this is the story written as a series of letters. + +Both methods are popular with amateurs. Most people regard a diary as +the simplest type of writing, requiring neither style nor sequence, nor +even the thinnest thread of connection running through the whole, unless +the author so desires. Moreover, though every one does not feel +competent to write a book or even a short story, we all feel competent +to keep a diary--most of us _have_ kept one at some time in our career. +What can be easier therefore than to write a story in diary form? And we +proceed to write our story as we wrote our own diary, with this +difference that we put into the fiction diary the sort of happenings we +used to deplore the lack of, when we wrote down our own daily +experiences. + +Until we have given some study to the subject we do not recognise that, +while a series of somewhat disconnected sentences and brief entries may +be very useful as records for future reference, likewise may be +moderately serviceable as safety-valves for overwrought, self-centred +temperaments, they are seldom of interest to any one save the writer, +and if put forward as recreational reading, may easily prove +uninteresting in the extreme, even with the addition of a love episode! +A story in diary form needs to be written by an experienced pen if it is +to resemble a genuine diary, and yet hold the reader's interest +throughout, and culminate in a good climax. + +[Sidenote: A Story told in Letters] + +A story told in a series of letters can easily be the dullest thing +imaginable. What is an excellent letter seldom makes an excellent +chapter in a novel. A letter, if it is to seem a real letter, should be +discursive; and this is the very thing the amateur needs to guard +against when writing a story, if that story is to show force and action; +he is prone to be too discursive as it is. In any case, unless it is +remarkably well done, the reader chafes at the delay inevitably caused +by the irrelevant small talk that is the hallmark of most letters. + +Some writers have managed to handle the "letter-form" in an interesting +manner, by relying on descriptive narrative, rather than any striking +plot, to hold the reader. _The Lady of the Decoration_ by Frances +Little, is a good example. + +[Sidenote: The Introduction of Dialect] + +Dialect should be approached with caution. It is so easy to be tedious +and unintelligible in this direction. + +Remember that you are writing in what is almost a fresh language to most +people, when you employ a dialect that is purely local; hence you are +imposing an extra mental strain on the reader; and in order to +compensate for the additional demand you make on his brain, you must +give him something above the average in interest. No one, in these days +of hustle, is going to take the trouble to wade through a species of +unknown tongue, and wrestle with weird spelling and unfamiliar idiom, +unless there is something remarkably worth while to be got out of it. +And for one who will spare the time to fathom the mysteries of the +dialect, there are thousands who will give it up. + +[Sidenote: The Object Of Writing a Book is not to Befog the Reader's +Mind] + +If it be necessary to write in a particular dialect, avoid so far as +possible the use of expressions that in no way explain themselves, and +crowding the pages with the more obscure colloquialisms of the district. +The object of writing a book is not to befog the reader's mind. + +One knows that dialect is sometimes imperative in order to create the +right atmosphere and to state things as they actually occurred. In such +cases it is usually best to use it only in small quantities--as where a +native strolls across very few pages, and is on view for only a short +while. Yet you must see that your dialect is correct. Merely to write a +few words phonetically, and put a "z" in place of an "s" (as is +sometimes done, for instance, when making a native of Somerset speak), +is not convincing. + +To write a story throughout in dialect calls for exceptional skill; and, +as a rule, it can only be done successfully by those who have known a +dialect from childhood, or at any rate have spent some years in its +company. The names of Sir James Barrie and S. R. Crockett naturally come +to one's mind in this connection. + +[Sidenote: "An Honest Tale speeds best being Plainly Told"] + +The beginner will be wise to write his early experiments in plain +English and in the third person. Fiction that is free from confusion of +style, mixed methods, and uncertainty of handling always does the best. +The story that is related in a clear direct manner is most popular with +the public--likewise, it is the most difficult to write well, though few +beginners believe this: it looks so very simple! + + + + +Fallacies in Fiction + + +I have come to the conclusion that the contrariness of human nature is +largely responsible for the rejection of many of the MSS. that never get +into print; but not the contrariness of the editor (as the unsuccessful +writer generally thinks when he sees his MS. back once more in the bosom +of his family). + +Most of us, at one period or another, feel we could shine much more +brilliantly in some other environment than the one in which we find +ourselves. It has been described as "a divine discontent." There is +plenty of discontent about it, I allow; but I am not so sure that it is +divine. While it may be, and often is, the expression of a real need for +a little more growing space, it is sometimes the outcome of mere +restlessness, or a lazy, selfish desire to escape the irksome things +that are in our own surroundings, vainly imagining that we can find some +pathway in life where there are no disagreeables to be faced. + +But whatever the motive may be, there is a universal idea among the +inexperienced that some other person's job is preferable to their own; +some one else's circumstances more interesting and romantic and dramatic +and enthralling than theirs could ever be. And the result is--much +wasted opportunity. + +[Sidenote: The Amateur so Seldom has First-hand Knowledge of his +Subject] + +Now the sum-total of this, in regard to story-writing, is the fact that +fully 80 per cent. of the fiction submitted to editors deals with +situations of which the writer has practically no first-hand knowledge; +as a natural consequence it is unconvincing and often incorrect. + +The schoolgirl who has never travelled beyond Folkestone or Boulogne, +and whose knowledge of fearsome weapons is limited to a hockey-stick, +riots one across the Continent on a "Prisoner of Zenda" chase, directly +she starts to write. + +The girl of twenty, living a quiet, useful life in some small provincial +town, in close attendance upon a kindly invalid aunt, devotes the secret +midnight candle to writing the life-story of a heartless butterfly of a +faithless wife: while the kindly invalid aunt is surreptitiously writing +decorous mid-Victorian stories of very, _very_ mild wickedness coming to +a politely bad end, and oppressively good virtue arriving at the top +(with more moral advice than plot, or anything else). The niece +imagines she is writing just the type of story that the public craves; +and the aunt is under the delusion that hers is just the sort of +literature that is wanted for distribution among factory girls. + +The maiden of high degree writes of the lily-white beauty of the girl in +the grimy garret. The democratic daughter of the colonies invariably +sprinkles a few titles about her MS. + +Before the war, the anaemic young man in a city office, who spent most of +the year in a crowded suburb and his short vacation at some crowded +seashore resort, persistently wrote of the exploits of a marvellous +detective who ran Sleuth-hound Bill to earth in Gory Gulch. Since 1914, +he (the young man) has sent me many MSS.--from France, Salonika, Egypt, +India, and Flanders--and these are generally love stories, and seldom +bear a trace of battle-smoke or high adventure. (I am speaking of +amateur work, remember.) + +I have nothing to say against a desire for new horizons; it is a +legitimate part of our development. And I can understand that for a +certain type of weakly and rather starved personality there is a slight +compensation for the lack of change they crave, in putting down on paper +their longings and ideals, and in writing romance in which they +secretly see themselves in the leading part. + +But this is not saleable matter; neither is it particularly readable +matter, as a general rule (though there are occasional exceptions, of +course). Because in such cases the writers are invariably dealing with +situations the inwardness of which they know really nothing. Or else all +their knowledge has been obtained from the writings of others; they are +merely repeating other people's ideas and other people's descriptions. + +[Sidenote: Choose your Topic from your own Environment] + +You cannot write convincingly on topics about which you know little. You +can cover reams of paper--amateurs are doing it every day of the +year!--with descriptions of people, and houses, and scenes, and walks of +life with which you have only a hearsay acquaintance; but such writing +is scarcely likely to be worth printing and paying for. + +If the schoolgirl, instead of wasting her time on something that reads +like a washedout _rechauffe_ of _The Scarlet Pimpernel_, would try her +hand at a story of schoolgirl life, she might produce something really +bright and alive, even though it lacked the symmetry and finish that +years of practice bring to a writer. And though the MS. did not find a +market at the time, on account of immaturity of style, it might prove +valuable later on when the writer had gained experience. It would give +her data she had forgotten in the intervening years. + +And the girl who spends her ink on the philanderings of the faithless +wife (a species, by the way, that she has probably never set eyes on, +having been brought up like most of the rest of us in a decent circle of +sane relations and friends) might, perhaps, have done some charming +pictures of domestic life, as did the authors of _Cranford_ and _Little +Women_ in their day. + +If the aunt, instead of hoping to influence factory girls of whom she +knows absolutely nothing, and whose conversation, could she but hear it, +would be an unintelligible language to her, had turned her invalidism to +practical account, and passed on useful hints and ideas to other +invalids, she might have written something that would have been welcomed +by others similarly handicapped. + +And so on, down to the city clerk, who never can be made to realise that +a type of story most difficult to lay hands on is the one that deals, +accurately, with the inside of that world peopled by the bankers and +stockbrokers and money magnates. The detective tracking Sleuth-hound +Bill has the tamest walk-over in comparison with the daring, and tense +excitement, surrounding some financial deals. + +[Sidenote: Original Work is rare: the Universal Tendency is to Copy] + +I do not say that these writers would necessarily have placed their MSS. +had they written on the lines suggested; it takes something besides the +theme and background to make a good story. But I do say that they would +have been many degrees nearer publication, had they dealt with types and +circumstances that had come within their personal cognisance, rather +than with those they only knew by hearsay. + +The outsider would scarcely credit how rare it is for an editor to +receive a piece of really original work; the universal tendency is to +copy other people's productions rather than trouble to discover original +models. + +The schoolgirl, studying water-colour drawing, prefers to work from a +"copy," showing some other person's painting of a vase of flowers, +rather than have her own vase filled with real flowers before her. Some +one else's work saves the inexperienced the responsibility of +selection--and selection is always a difficult point for the beginner, +who finds it hard to decide what to include in, and what to leave out +of, a picture. + +[Sidenote: Beginners are Seldom Aware that they are Copying others] + +In the same way, inexperienced fiction writers find it easier to copy +other people's stories; though, unlike the schoolgirl and her +painting-copy, they are quite unconscious that they are doing so; they +usually imagine that what they have written is entirely original. + +It is difficult to get the novice to distinguish between writing +anything down on paper, and creating it in his own brain. So many think +the mere passing of thoughts through the brain, and the transmitting of +those thoughts to paper, are indications of their ability to write; and +that what they write must be original. + +And yet in most beginners' MSS. scarcely any of the incidents, or +situations, or plots ever came within the writer's own purview; the +majority are hashed up from the many stories one reads nowadays--though +the author has no idea that he is only stringing together selected ideas +that originated in other people's brains. + +There are many reasons to account for this. For one thing, the novice +feels safe in using the type of material that has already been +published. The world is wide, human nature is varied, and it is not +easy to decide what to take; therefore the writer who plans his story on +time-honoured lines is relieved of the responsibility of selection. + +Then, again, if a particular type of story has been accepted and +published, it has received a certain hall-mark of approval, and +forthwith others tread the same path; there is less uncertainty here +than in breaking new ground. + +There is yet another reason: to evolve anything that is new and +unhackneyed necessitates our taking trouble; and some amateurs will not +take any more trouble than they can possibly help; they do not recognise +that writing stands for hard work. + +[Sidenote: Tried Old Friends we have Met before] + +I cannot spare the space to touch on well-worn plots, but here are a few +of the sentences and expressions that haunt amateur MSS. + +Have you ever read a story that opened, "It was a glorious day in June," +followed by a page of blue sky, balmy breezes, humming bees, not a leaf +stirred, and scent of roses heavy on the air? Of course you have. We all +have. That glorious day in June is one of the most precious perennials +of the story-writer's stock-in-trade. + +You know at once that twenty summers will have passed o'er _her_ head, +and that _he_ is just round the corner waiting to come upon her all +unawares, so soon as the author can quit cataloguing nature's beauties. + +And have you ever read a story that opened with "A dripping November fog +enveloped the city"? Of course you have; and you know at once, before +you get to the next line, which describes its denseness and the slippery +pavements, and a host of other discomforts, that you are going to be +ushered into an equally dismal city boarding-house, and introduced to a +lovely-complexioned girl whose frail appearance is only enhanced by her +deep mourning, and hear the sad story of the pecuniary straits that +necessitated her bringing her widowed mother (often fractious), or it +may be a younger sister (always sunny and the lodestar of her life), +from their lovely old home in the country, while she earned a living in +town. And, without fail, she has always imagined that they were well +provided for, till the family lawyer (always old) broke the news after +the funeral that the place was mortgaged up to the hilt, and even her +father's life insurance had been allowed to lapse. + +You know all the rest--the dreary tramp round in search of work, and the +way she irons out her threadbare garments to make them last as long as +they can (irrespective of the fact that the mourning was new only a few +weeks before, and she presumably had a good stock of underwear in her +prosperous days), and a host of other harrowing experiences until--it +comes right in the end. + +And all because the story opened with a dripping November fog! Why, I +believe the average amateur would consider it almost improper to start a +desolate orphan on a quest for work in the metropolis in anything other +than a dense November fog! + +And yet--how much more cheerful for her, poor dear, could she but begin +her career on a dry day--and some November days in London are quite +sunny and bright--so much better for her in the thin jacket she always +wears on such occasion, and her worn-out shoes! + +It would be such a blessed thing if we need not start with the weather, +nor the number of summers that had floated over the sweet young +heroine's head (or winters, if the central figure be an old man). But +the amateur clings to these openings. + +Then take "the boudoir." After the weather I don't think anything haunts +me more persistently than the boudoir. "Lady Gwennyth was sitting +reading a letter in her luxurious (or cosy, or dainty) boudoir, +when----" etc. + +Now why is it that the girl who starts out to write fiction loves to +introduce her heroine in this wise? It is most unlikely that the amateur +knows much about a boudoir--few of us do. It is a room that appertains +solely to the rich, and to only a small proportion of the rich at that. +I know many wealthy women and many well-born women who haven't a +boudoir, simply because the cramped conditions of modern living seldom +leave them a room to spare for this purpose. The fact is the boudoir +proper does not really belong to this purposeful age. It is a relic of +the more leisurely Victorian times and the ease-loving, well-to-do +Frenchwoman of pre-war days. Most modern women have very little time to +spend in a boudoir if even they need one; nevertheless it appears with +unfailing regularity in stories dealing with the richer ranks of life, +till you would think it was as necessary to a woman's entourage as--an +umbrella! + +Why is it that the heroine has usually refused a couple (if not more) +offers of marriage, before she is brought to our notice, with yet +another offer looming on the horizon? In real life, as we know it in +this twentieth century, it is most unusual for a girl to be constantly +turning down offers of marriage like applications for charity +subscriptions though there are exceptions here and there, certainly. + +Yet I scarcely open a love-story that does not state that the heroine +had already refused "every eligible man in her circle"; though the +reader can seldom see why _one_ man should have proposed to the damsel, +much less a crowd! + +The heroine presented to us by the amateur is invariably a most ordinary +young person, often quite uninteresting, and lacking the faintest streak +of distinctiveness. And then the question arise--Why should all the +eligible men in the town have proposed to her? + +Perhaps one explanation is the fact that inexperienced writers have not +learnt the art of depicting character; as they do not know how to convey +an idea of her attractiveness, they think if they state that she was +attractive that is sufficient. But statements are not sufficient; she +must be attractive. + + * * * * * + +The youthful heroine and the aged grandmother may also be quoted as +evergreen types that long ago had become monotonous. Whether girls +married in their teens as a matter of course, a couple of generations +ago, I do not know, as I was not there; but the youthful heroine was a +_sine qua non_ in Victorian fiction. + +She is not a _sine qua non_ now, however; anything but; the +seventeen-year-old bride is by no means the rule in these times; there +is practically no limit nowadays to the age at which a woman may receive +offers of marriage. + +Nevertheless, the amateur persistently follows bygone models, and still +clings to the very young heroine; no more than eighteen summers are, at +the outside, allowed to pass over her lovely head before she is +introduced to our notice. + + * * * * * + +And certain traditions are still followed in regard to other details. +Her complexion is always of the rose-petal order, her hair is always +escaping in a series of stray curls about her neck and forehead (and, by +the way, these "stray curls" of fiction are sadly responsible for many +of the untidy lank locks of to-day!). If you read as many MSS. as I do, +you would think that no straight-haired, ordinary complexioned girl had +the least chance of a personal love-story, despite the fact that most of +the girls one knows in real life, who have married and lived "happy +ever after," have been either sallow or sunburnt or colourless, or just +healthy-looking. + +If you doubt whether a successful heroine can be evolved out of a woman +no longer in her teens, and with a complexion that would not stand +pearls, remember the Hon. Jane, in _The Rosary_. + + * * * * * + +In addition to the youthful heroine, the aged grandmother needs to be +given a long rest. When the young wife who married in her teens visits +her old home in company with her one-year-old infant, it is invariably +the dearest old lady who comes forward to embrace her first grandchild; +and from her own conversation and the description of her general +appearance, the sweet old soul must be at least eighty, despite all that +Nature might rule to the contrary, to say nothing of the dressmaker! + +Tradition has it that grandmothers must have white hair, and spectacles, +voluminous skirts, and knitting in their hands as they sit in an +easy-chair with comfortably slippered feet on a hassock; and that is the +sort of grandmother the amateur brings on the scenes, irrespective of +the fact that the grandmother of to-day is skipping about in girlish +skirts and high-heeled shoes, with hair and complexion as youthful as +she likes to pay for. + + * * * * * + +Nothing in the way of fiction is more difficult to write than a +thoroughly good love story. And yet the beginner invariably starts with +a love story, and continues with love-stories, as though there were no +other possible selection. + +I do not think it is often possible to write a good love-story until one +has had some experience of life. It is so easy to mistake neurotic +imaginings and over-strung emotionalism for love; and it is still easier +to fall back on the conventional things that the conventional hero and +heroine do and say in the conventional novel, and imagine that we are +recording our own ideas and experiences. + +There are several reasons why the love-story appeals to the girl who is +starting out to write. She is looking forward to a love-story of her +own, if she be a normal girl, and has already seen herself in the part +of her favourite heroine. Naturally it is not surprising that +love-stories are of absorbing interest to her. And a girl usually sees +herself as the heroine of her own early love-stories; and she invariably +makes her heroine do and say what she would like to do and say under +the circumstances, and at the same time she makes the hero do and say +what she would like her own lover to do and say--but it does not follow +that this is true to life; or that her lover would say the things she +credits him with in her story. Very few proposals in real life ever +resemble the proposals in fiction! + +A girl will often introduce her heroine in a picturesque pose against +some lovely background of hills, or woods, or garden flowers; and the +hero coming upon her suddenly is made to pause, lost in admiration +of the exquisite picture she makes. The girl writes this +because--unconsciously, perhaps--she sees herself in the part, and likes +to think she would make a very attractive picture that would rivet a +man's attention. + +But it is not true to life. In reality, the average man seldom notices +the scenic fittings under such circumstances. He either sees the +girl--or he doesn't. Unless he is an artist looking for useful subjects +for his pictures, the background is not often seen in conjunction with +the girl. I merely give this as an instance of the way amateurs are apt +to see themselves in an imaginary part that in reality is at variance +with "things as they are"; and their writings become artificial in +consequence. + +There is another reason why the love-story is the beginner's choice: it +calls for so few characters. The simplest ingredients are--a nice, +beautiful girl and a strong, manly, deserving masculine. Of course, you +can vary the flavour by making them rich or poor, misunderstood, +down-trodden, capricious, and what not. And you can amplify it by +introducing the bold, bad rival (masculine); the superficial, +fascinating butterfly rival (feminine); the irate forbidding parent +(_his_, if he is rich and she is poor; _hers_, if he is poor and her +mother is ambitious and money-grabbing); the designing mischief-maker (a +black-eyed brunette, or a brassy-haired blonde); and a host of other +well-worn familiar types. But when all is said and done, you need have +but two characters to delineate, if you do not feel equal to more--and +there is a distinct save of brain in this! + +When you reach the climax in any other than a love-story, you are +expected to make the _denouement_ something of a slight surprise at any +rate, if no more; and we all know that surprises--slight or +otherwise--are not altogether easy to manufacture for purposes of +fiction. It is simple work to go on talking and describing and making +the people talk--about nothing--for pages and pages; but by no means +simple to lead it all up to a definite point of culmination. There must +be some sort of point to a story; and that point is the trouble as a +rule! + +But with a love-story, the amateur thinks he need not worry about +hunting for a climax--every one knows what the climax must be. "All you +have to do is to bring them along the road of life to a suitable spot +where they can fall into each other's arms"--thus the novice argues, and +proceeds to do it. Another save of brain wear and tear! + +In any other situation the _dramatis personae_ are bound to do at least a +little talking, to explain how the thing has worked out, or to let you +know how matters finally adjusted themselves. But not so our happy +lovers! About the longest sentence he is called upon to construct is, +"At last!" as he clasps her to him; while her contribution to the +duologue need only be, "Darling!" which she whispers, resting her head +on his shoulder. And they need not say even this much: for one very +favourite method of conclusion, with inexperienced authors, is to bring +the hero and heroine suddenly face to face with some such final sentence +as, "What they said need not be recorded here: such words are too sacred +to be repeated"--a finale that always annoyed me in my young days! + +Amateurs are generally very weak in character-drawing, and nowhere is +this more noticeable than in love-stories. There is a time-honoured +notion that the chief requisites in the heroine are youth and beauty, as +I have already said, while the hero must of equal necessity be +clean-cut, manly and masterful. With these ideas already fixed in his +head, the novice seldom sees any necessity for character-delineation. He +explains that the heroine is lovely and the hero in every way a +desirable young man, and leaves it at that; forgetting that the mere +statement that she is "winsome," or "wistful," or possessed of "clear +grey eyes that are the windows of her soul," does not necessarily make +her all these things. In the majority of amateur MSS. the heroine, as +she depicts herself by word and deed, is a most colourless, stereotyped +nonentity; and by no means the glowing, fascinating thing of originality +and beauty that the author's adjectives would have us believe; and the +hero is frequently no more animated, no more human, than the elegant +dummy in a tailor's window. + +This may be taken as a fairly safe ruling: If it be necessary for you to +label your characters with their chief characteristics, your writing is +unconvincing and weak. Their actions should speak louder than your +adjectives. + +One of the prominent novelists of to-day--who is clever enough and +experienced enough to know better--has a trick of letting some one of +his characters make a semi-witty remark; after which he adds, "And +everybody laughed." This last should be quite unnecessary. If the remark +be sufficiently laugh-at-able, it will be self-evident that people +smiled; if it is not sufficiently witty to suggest a laugh to the +reader, no amount of ticketing will raise a smile, either in the book or +out of it. + +The same principle should be applied to the presentation of one's +characters. If they are to have anything more than a mere walk-on part, +they should very quickly explain themselves. The bald statement that the +hero is a fine, manly fellow means nothing in reality. What is important +is whether his actions and speech suggest a fine, manly character. If +they do not, no amount of descriptive matter on the part of the author +will conjure up a fine, manly fellow in the reader's imagination. + + + + +Some Rules for Story-Writing + + +In presenting a story it is essential that the reader shall have some +idea as to what it is about. To start by keeping the reader roaming +along for a page or two among unintelligible remarks, and references to +unknown or unexplained events, is to give him strong encouragement to +shut up the book without troubling to go any further. + +There is something very exasperating about a writer who gives no clue as +to who anybody is or what anything is; he is every bit as irritating as +the one who goes to the other extreme, and drags the reader through the +babyhood and school days of the hero's parents. + +These are the opening paragraphs of a MS. offered to me. It is quite a +short story, hence there was every reason why space should not have been +wasted on unintelligible preamble. + + "It happened in this way: through the lions. No, that isn't exactly + right though; the lions didn't really do it, would never have thought + of doing such a thing; but if I had not gone to see them, it would + never have happened. So, you see, they were to some extent + responsible. + + "I expect you are saying to yourself, 'What was it that happened?' + Well that is what I'm going to write about. But first I must tell you + that one of my failings from childhood upwards has been the habit of + starting to tell my story right in the very middle; and then I always + feel so annoyed when, after I've been chattering away for I don't know + how long, people look at me and say, 'Perhaps you will try and be + lucid and explain what you are talking about!' It never seems to occur + to them that it is they who are so stupid. But I will tell you at once + about 'me' and then tell you about 'it.' I'll begin at the very + beginning, and try to tell you everything in proper orthodox style." + +After much more of this description, it turns out at last that the lions +were celebrities at a dinner-party where the narrator met the man she +ultimately married. + +That was all! + +It is foolish to keep the reader dangling in suspense, unless the +subsequent revelations are to be sufficiently striking to warrant the +suspense. A long explanatory deviation from the actual theme is seldom +satisfactory or desirable, in a short story, even when the theme is a +big one (unless it be absolutely necessary, in order to elucidate some +important detail): but it is inexcusable when the subject is trivial and +obvious. + +The more "body" there is in your MS. the more it will stand digressive +or dilutive passages; the lighter your main theme, the less can you +afford to allow the reader's interest to be dissipated over extraneous +matter before you reach the main theme. + + * * * * * + +Until you are an experienced craftsman, introduce the important +characters as early as possible. The reader should know them as long as +possible if he is to take a keen personal interest in them. + +It is better not to describe your characters more than is necessary for +actual identification; they should describe themselves by their actions +and conversation, as the story proceeds. + +To save the monotony of long descriptive passages, that always hamper +the movement of a story, it is often possible to make one of the +characters, in the course of conversation, give the information that the +author is anxious to convey to the reader. But in order to effect this, +do not fall into the error of making a character say things that in real +life there would be no reason for his saying. You may want to convey the +information to the reader that the heroine's ancestors were eminently +respectable; but it would be bad art to make her remark to her own +parent (or a relative): "As you know, mother dear, grandfather was a +distinguished general." + + * * * * * + +Beginners imagine that the strength of a story is in direct proportion +to the way they crowd together incidents, or multiply their characters. +But this entirely depends on the quality of the incidents and the +importance of the characters. + +The whole is greater than a part--always has been and always will be; +and if each individual character is weak, and each episode is feeble, no +matter how you may elaborate your story, the whole will be weaker than +each part. + + * * * * * + +It is time-saving, when writing a story, to lay the scene in some +locality you know well, even though you change the name and preserve its +incognito. It is most useful to have a fixed plan of the streets and +lanes and buildings and railway station in your mind when writing. + + * * * * * + +Try to distinguish between a longing to voice your own pent-up emotions, +and a desire to give the world something that you think will interest or +instruct them. Three-quarters of the love-stories girls write are +merely outlets for their own emotions; and picture what they wish would +happen in their own lives--with no thought whatever as to whether the +MS. contains anything likely to interest the outsider. + + * * * * * + +Short sentences and short paragraphs are usually an advantage in stories +as well as in articles; they give crispness and brightness to the whole. +Whereas long sentences and long paragraphs are both stodgy to read and +uninteresting to look at, (and it must not be forgotten that the look of +a page sometimes counts a good deal with the public). + +I know that instances can be cited where celebrated people have written +long sentences and ungainly paragraphs, and yet have been read. +President Wilson, in his most famous Note to Germany, led off with a +sentence of one hundred and seventy-one words, while there were only +twelve full-stops in the whole message. But President Wilson, at that +particular date, scored heavily over every other writer, in that the +whole world was eagerly willing to read anything he wrote--even though +he had omitted all stops and capital letters!--whereas the majority of +us, alas, have to persuade or coax or beguile the public into looking at +our words of wisdom, and we have to make the reading as easy for people +as we can. Otherwise they will not bother their heads about us! + +People were willing to put up with President Wilson's diffuse and +"trailing" manner of writing, because at the moment he was the +mouthpiece of the inhabitants of the United States. Any one who is the +mouthpiece of over ninety millions of people can cease to worry about +style--some one is sure to read him no matter how he expresses himself. + +But so long as we manage to avoid having positions of such greatness +thrust upon us, we shall do well to keep our sentences terse and short, +and our MSS. broken up into paragraphs. + +[Sidenote: The Question of Polish] + +There is much divergence of opinion as to how far it is desirable to +polish one's work. Personally I think it all depends upon the work. + +Some authors put down their ideas in a very rough form, and seem unable +to realise the possibilities of those ideas and their development, till +they see them on paper. + +Others are able to think in minute detail before they put a line on +paper. + +Some people can never leave anything alone, and will tinker with half a +dozen fresh proofs (if they can induce the publisher to supply them). +Others are more sure of themselves, or disinclined to alter what they +have written. + +The late Guy Boothby used almost to re-write his stories, after they +were set up in type; the margins of most of the slip proofs being so +covered with new matter and alterations that they had often to be +entirely reset. So expensive did this become, that at last I decided to +keep his typed MS. in a drawer for a week or two, and then send it back +to him, asking him to do whatever rewriting was necessary before it was +set up. + +Of course, writers may alter a good deal in their first MS., before ever +it gets to the publisher; but my experience has been that the author who +worries his proof is the one who has previously worried his MS. (and +sometimes his family too)! It is primarily a matter of mind-certainty, +combined with the question of temperament. + +One thing is undeniable: some writers will polish their MSS. into things +of beauty; others will polish all the individuality and life out of +theirs. In the latter case, however, I am inclined to think there was +not much individuality and life to start with! + +So far as the beginner is concerned, my advice is Polish; most of us can +stand a good deal of this without losing anything worth keeping, or +coming to a bad end! + +[Sidenote: To get under way, Start where you are] + +Do not waste time in waiting for something extraordinary or sensational +to turn up, in the way of a plot, or you may have to wait a long while. +Begin with some everyday happening and invest it with personality. + +If you can, avoid making your early MSS. love stories. The _denouement_ +of a love story is so obvious: try to write something on less obvious +lines; it will be better practice for you. + +Study some of the many delightful books that have been written in other +than love motifs, yet dealing with events of ordinary life; such as _The +Golden Age_, and _Dream Days_, by Kenneth Graham; _A Window in Thrums_, +by Sir James Barrie; _The Country of the Pointed Firs_, by Sarah Orne +Jewett; _Timothy's Quest_, by Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +Genius is shown in the ability to take simple themes, and treat them +greatly. + + + + +About the Climax + + +The most important part of a story should be the climax (I use the word +climax in its modern sense, meaning the terminal point where all is +brought to a conclusion, the _denouement_, the final catastrophe). The +climax must be in the author's mind from the very first sentence, and +everything he writes should be with this in view--_i.e._, his own view, +not that of the reader; it must be his aim throughout the story to +conceal the climax from the reader till the last moment. Nothing with an +obvious solution will hold the reader's interest. + +Every piece of writing should have some sort of a conclusive ending--a +satisfactory one if possible. Writers sometimes make their fiction +terminate in an abrupt, unsatisfactory manner, which is no real finish, +and leaves the reader wishing it had not all ended like that, and +wondering if there is more to come. + +When such defects are pointed out, the amateur invariably replies, "But +it must end like that, because that is what actually happened." They +forget that the fact a circumstance actually happened is no guarantee +that it was worth recording; nor is the circumstance necessarily the +symmetrical finish to the story,--and a piece of writing should be +symmetrical, and in well-balanced design. You cannot always detach an +incident from contingent happenings, and then say it is complete. The +larger proportion of our actions are linked with, and interdependent +upon, other actions. + +Therefore see to it that your story terminates in a satisfactory manner. +That which apparently ends in failure to-day, may take a new lease of +life to-morrow and prove to be merely a stepping-stone to new +developments. + +It is not bound to be a happy ending (though if there be a choice, happy +endings are by far the best, in a world that has enough of sorrow in its +work-a-day life); but it must be an ending leaving a sense of right +completion with the reader--the conviction that this is the logical +conclusion of the whole. + +All great works of art leave behind them a sense of fulfilment, the +"something attempted, something done," that is always the desirable +finale to the human heart and mind. We hate to be left in a state of +never-to-be-satisfied suspension; and we invariably reject and condemn +to oblivion the work that deliberately leaves us thus. + +Some people have an idea that it is "artistic" to leave a story in a +half-finished condition, or with a disappointing ending, or a general +feeling of blankness. A few years ago there was a mania for this type of +story among small writers: those who were not clever enough to produce +originality of idea, and at the same time get their work logical, +symmetrical and conclusive, would seize on some miserable, or at any +rate uncomfortable, ending--drown one of the lovers the day before the +wedding; part husband and wife irrevocably, and possibly kill their only +child in a railway accident in the last chapter--anything in fact that +would produce what one might call a "never-more" finale. And then a +certain section of the public (who really did not like it at all, but +feared to say so lest they should appear to be behind the times!) would +exclaim, "So artistic!" + +Yet it was anything but artistic; three-quarters of the time it was +logically and morally bad; logically bad because it was seldom the true +and natural conclusion that one would have seen in real life; morally +bad because it is actually wrong to manufacture and circulate gloom +unnecessarily. + +I repeat again I would not imply that all endings must be happy; great +tragedies need tragic conclusions; suffering is as much a part of real +life as joy; a certain course of action must inevitably lead to a +sorrowful ending, and there is no getting away from the unalterable +truth, "The wages of sin is death." But the type of story to which I am +alluding is seldom great or tragic: it is not even painful; it is more +often weak and washy, and ends with unsatisfactory incompletion because +the author fancied it was brilliantly original! + +Always work steadily towards the climax, speeding up the movement as you +near the end. Make big events come closer and closer together, with less +detail between, the nearer you are to the conclusion. + +Do not anticipate your climax, and get there too soon, and then try to +make up the book to the required length by adding on an after-piece. + +The climax should be such that it leaves in the reader's mind a sense of +absolute fitness, a certainty that it was after all the one right +ending--even though it came as a great surprise. + + + + +The Use of "Curtains" + + +When a story is presented in sections, as in a serial or a play, it is +advisable to make each section end--so far as possible--in such a manner +that the reader is set longing for the next part. Thus, while the climax +is generally the solution of a problem, a "curtain" is usually a problem +needing solution (literally, a good place for ringing down the curtain, +since the audience will be on tenterhooks to know what happens next). + +This arrangement is sound business as well as a good mental policy. It +is wise to make an instalment leave some final, incisive mark on the +mind of the readers, if there is to be an interval before the story is +resumed, otherwise it may be difficult for the public to recollect what +went before, and the thread of continuity will be lost. + +More than this, an editor, despite the usual backwardness of his +intelligence, realises the desirability of securing readers for +subsequent issues of his periodical, no less than for the current +number. If each instalment of the serial terminate with some mystery +unsolved, or some hopeless entanglement needing to be straightened out, +or some problem that baffles everybody (most of all the readers), it is +much more likely that people will rush to secure the next number to see +how things turn out, than if the instalment merely ends with the hero +indulging in a tame, lengthy soliloquy on artichokes, and leaves nothing +more exciting to be settled than whether these same artichokes shall, or +shall not, be cooked for the heroine's lunch. + +On more than one occasion I have had readers write protestingly because +an instalment of a serial has left off cruelly "just when one was +frightfully anxious to know what would happen next!" But that is the +very place for an instalment to end: good "curtains" are worth as much +to a serial as a good plot; and if a story lack good "curtains," an +editor thinks twice before purchasing it for serial publication, even +though it has undoubted literary merit and will make a good volume. + +Inexperienced writers overlook this necessity for holding the reader's +attention from section to section, and sometimes offer an editor serial +stories without sufficient backbone or dramatic interest to hold the +readers' attention from the first instalment to the second, much less +for twelve or more detachments. + +Or they crowd several excitements into a couple of chapters, and then +run on uneventfully for a dozen or so. + +This does not mean that problems must crop up mechanically at stated +intervals, and the serial be produced on a mathematical basis of one +murder, or mystery to so many words! But it does mean that the author +must see to it that his important incidents are fairly distributed +throughout the work as a whole, and that each chapter ends at the +psychological moment. This gives an editor a chance to break the story +at places where the excitement runs highest. + +Careful attention to balance will help the writer to get the action +fairly distributed. If the MS. be examined as a whole, with this +question of balance in mind, the writer will be able to detect if too +much movement has been concentrated in one part, with undue expanses of +uneventfulness stretching between. + +[Sidenote: Dickens was an Adept at "Curtains"] + +No one knew better than Charles Dickens how to keep the reader on the +_qui vive_ for the next chapter. Joseph H. Choate says in his Memoirs: +"As Dickens' books came out they were eagerly devoured in America. +_Dombey and Son_ came out in numbers long before the laying of the +first Atlantic cable, and several numbers went over in fort-nightly +steamers, the most frequent communication of that day. In an early part +of the story little Paul was brought to the verge of the grave, the last +number to hand leaving him hovering between life and death, and all +America was anxious to know his fate. When the next steamer arrived +bringing decisive news, the dock was crowded with people. The passengers +imagined some great national or international event had happened. But it +was only the eager reading public who had hurried down to meet the +steamer, and get the first news as to whether little Paul was alive or +dead." + +The late Dr. S. G. Green has told how, at the day school he attended as +a boy, "work was suspended once a month on the publication of the +instalment of _Pickwick Papers_, which the head master read aloud to the +assembled and eager boys. When Mr. Pickwick was released from the Fleet +Prison, a whole holiday was given, to celebrate the event!" + +This is the type of serial story an editor yearns for: one that will end +with so dramatic a "curtain" each month, that the public suspend all +employment in order to secure copies of the following issue, and learn +what happened next! + +Even the final sentences of an instalment with a good "curtain" can be +made to do wonders in whetting the reader's appetite for more. But it is +advisable to see how they read in connection with the words that +inevitably follow. For instance, there was a lurid serial in a daily +paper which ended one day with the words: + +"'Cat,' she cried, 'vile, odious, contemptible cat.' To be continued +to-morrow." + +"But," commented _Punch_, "could she do any better than that even after +she _had_ slept on it?" + + + + +On Making Verse + + +Most of us break out into verse at one period of our life. Youth +starting out to explore a world that seems teeming with new discoveries, +generally tries to voice his emotions in poetry--not because youth has +any special aptitude for this form of literature, but because the poet +has expressed, as no other writer has done, the hopes and ideals, the +craving for romance and the thirst for beauty, that are among the +characteristics of our golden years. And youth, wishing to voice his own +emotions, naturally selects the literary form in which such emotions +have already been enshrined. + +Verse-writing is a very useful exercise for the student--as I have +already stated in a previous chapter; but until we are fairly advanced, +it is well to avoid regarding our efforts too seriously. + +To string together certain sets of syllables with rhymes in couples, is +an exceedingly simple matter; but to write poetry is the highest and the +most difficult form of literary art. + +It is hard to convince the beginner that the verses he has put together +are not poetry--even though they may be technically correct as to +make-up, which is by no means always the case. He is inclined to argue +that he has dreamed dreams, and seen visions, and travelled far from the +prose of life; what he writes, therefore, must be scintillating with +star dust, if with nothing more heavenly. + +For the making of poetry, the dreams of youth are valuable; take care of +them, they are among the precious things of life, and they vanish with +neglect or rough handling; but something more than dreams is needful. + +[Sidenote: Study the Laws governing Metrical Composition] + +If you feel you can best express yourself in verse, make a comprehensive +study of the laws governing metrical composition. Such knowledge not +only enables you to write in a shapely, orderly, pleasing form, but it +may also help you to ascertain what is wrong, when something you have +written seems jarring, or halting, or lacking at any point. + +To many amateurs, laws and rules suggest a cramping influence; they feel +sure they could do far better work if unhampered by any restrictions. In +reality, however, the limitations such laws impose are a gain to the +poet, since they compel him to sort out his ideas, to differentiate +between essentials and non-essentials, to condense his thoughts and +measure his words. And if properly carried out, all this should result +in the reduction of verbosity to the minimum, and a moderately clear +presentation of a subject--it does not always, I know, but it ought to +do so. + +I am neither enumerating nor discussing these laws in this volume, since +excellent books on the subject have been published. I merely wish to +point out to the student the necessity for giving the matter attention. + +Some people think the fact that the idea embodied in their verse is good +and ennobling, should condone weak or faulty workmanship. But, alas! in +this callous world it doesn't, as a rule. + +The ideal verse is that which presents beautifully a great thought in a +small compass. + +[Sidenote: Ideas are more Important than Rhapsodies] + +A poem should centralise on some special thought or idea. Rhapsodies, no +matter how intense, do not constitute poetry; every poem, be it ever so +short, should suggest some definite train of thought. Haphazard +statements or description are no more permissible in a poem than in a +novel. + +All nonsense verse, even, must have an underlying semblance of a +sensible idea, though when you come to analyse it, it may turn out to +be the height of absurdity. + +[Sidenote: Moreover the Ideas should be Poetic] + +Not only must a poem contain a definite idea, it must be a poetic idea, +something that will lift the reader above the prose of life. Try to make +him see beauty if you can; and to hear beauty in the music of your +words. Poetry should be beautiful and suggest loveliness, whenever +possible. + +However simple and ordinary the subject of your verse, try to carry the +reader beyond superficialities, to the wonderful and the unordinary that +so often give glory to life's commonplaces. + +Take a well-worn subject like the incoming tide; how many people have +been moved to write on this topic! + +I could not possibly reckon up the number of times I have seen "ocean's +roar" rhyming with "rocky shore." The writer who is nothing more than a +versifier is content with a description of the sights and sounds of the +beach; but the poet looks further than this. Read Mrs. Meynell's "Song," +and you will better understand my meaning when I say that the poet must +endeavour to show us, through the substance of things material, the +shadow of things spiritual. + + +SONG + +By ALICE MEYNELL + + As the unhastening tide doth roll, + Dear and desired, upon the whole + Long shining strand, and floods the caves, + Your love comes filling with happy waves + The open sea-shore of my soul. + + But inland from the seaward spaces, + None knows, not even you, the places + Brimmed at your coming, out of sight + --The little solitudes of delight + This tide constrains in dim embraces. + + You see the happy shore, wave-rimmed, + But know not of the quiet dimmed + Rivers your coming floods and fills, + The little pools, 'mid happier hills, + My silent rivulets, over-brimmed. + + What, I have secrets from you? Yes. + But, O my Sea, your love doth press + And reach in further than you know, + And fill all these; and when you go, + There's loneliness in loneliness. + + _By Courtesy of + The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd._ + +[Sidenote: Amateur Verse usually falls under these Headings] + +Putting on one side religious verse (which one does not wish to dissect +too brutally, since one recognises and respects the spirit underlying +it, despite its sometimes poor technique), amateur verse usually falls +under one of four headings: + + 1. Lovers' outpourings. + 2. Baby prattle. + 3. Nature dissertations. + 4. Stuff worth reading. + +The first of these explains itself, and includes perennial poems +entitled "Blue Eyes"; "Parted"; "To Daphne" (or Muriel, or Gladys, or +some other equally nice person); "Absence"; "My Lady"; "Twin Souls," +etc. In these the following are generally regarded as original and +delightful rhymes: Love and dove; mourn and forlorn; girl and curl; moon +and June; eyes and skies. + +Without wishing to hurt any sensitive feelings, truth compels me to +state that it is rare for such productions to have any literary value. + +The verses coming under the second heading are frequently written by +young girls, unmarried aunts, and very new fathers; occasionally mothers +give vent to their maternal affection in this way, but more often they +find their time fully occupied in attending to the little ones' material +needs. + +Such poems (often entitled "Lullaby") are usually characterised by an +entire lack of anything that could possibly be called an idea. They will +apostrophise the infant, and tell it how lovely it is, begging it to go +to sleep, and assuring it that mother will keep watch the while--which +no up-to-date mother would dream of doing in these busy, servantless +days! But as to any concrete reason why the verses were penned, one +looks for it in vain. + +I do not think such effusions serve any useful purpose. They are not +even desirable as an outlet for the feelings, since there are better +ways in which one can work out one's affection for a child--woolly +boots, pinafores, personal attention, and the like. Nevertheless every +woman's paper is deluged with MSS. of this type. + +The Nature dissertation is a trifle better than the preceding, because +it does offer a little scope for looking around and noting things. But +the weakness here is this: the writers do not always look around; they +as often sit at a comfortable writing-table indoors and amalgamate other +people's observations; and the outcome is a recital of the obvious, with +oft-repeated platitudes. + +The following are well-worn titles: "A Spring Song"; "Bluebells"; +"Twilight Calm"; "Sunset"; "Autumn Leaves"; occasionally they take a +Wordsworthian turn, "Lines written on the shore at Atlantic City" or +"Thoughts on seeing Stratford-on-Avon for the first time" (such a poem +naturally beginning "Immortal Bard, who--" etc.). + +At best, the majority of nature poems, as written by the untrained, +contain little beyond descriptive passages. This again results in a +pointless production that seldom embodies any idea worth the space +devoted to it. + +You may record the fact that the sun is setting in a blaze of colour; +but there is nothing sufficiently remarkable about this to warrant its +publication: most people know that the sun occasionally sets in this +fashion. If the beauty of the sunset affected you strongly, lifting you +above earthly things, and giving you a vision--dim perhaps, but +nevertheless a vision--of the Glory that shall be revealed, then it is +for you so to describe the beauty of the sunset that you convey to your +readers the same feelings, the same uplifted sense, the same vision of +the yet greater Glory that is to be. When you can do this, the chances +are that you will be writing poetry. But until you can do this, you may +be writing nothing better than fragments of a rhyming guide-book. + +You may argue that not only did you feel an uplift when you gazed on the +sunset, but you re-experience it as you read the poem you wrote upon it. + +[Sidenote: You see the Scene you are describing: the Reader does not] + +Possibly so; because to you the lines conjure up the whole scene; _i.e._ +they serve to remind you of much that is not written down. One word may +be enough to recall to your mind the overwhelming grandeur of the +sundown in every detail; but it will not be sufficient to spread it out +before the eyes of those who did not see the actual occurrence; neither +will it reveal to them the uplift of the moment. + +The novice so often forgets that his own mind fills in the details of +what he has seen, and makes a perfect picture out of an imperfect +description. But the reader cannot do this; he has nothing to help him +beyond the written words. Therefore the writer must take care to omit +nothing that is essential, nothing that will enforce the mental and +spiritual conception of a scene. And in order to do this, he must +analyse the scene, and ascertain (if he can) what it was that aroused +such deep emotion within him. If he can tabulate these items (sometimes +it is possible to do so, sometimes it is not), then he must give them +special emphasis in his description, no matter what else is omitted. + +Whether you are writing descriptive matter in verse or prose, it is well +to bear in mind that memory helps _you_ to visualise the whole scene, +whereas the reader will have no such additional aid. + +[Sidenote: Poetry should Voice Worldwide, rather than Individual, Need] + +The primary object of the beginner, in writing verse, is often to voice +his own heart's longing; whereas, if his verse is to be of interest to +others besides himself, it must voice the longings of other people, +Poetry of the "longing" kind should touch on world-wide human need, not +merely on an individual want, if it is to waken response in the reader. +Of course the individual want may be a world-wide human need: it very +often is; but it is not wise to trust to chance in this particular. + +Look about you, and see if your experiences are likely to be those of +your fellow-creatures. If so, there is more probability that your work +will appeal to others than if you take no count of their requirements +and centre on your own. + +The poet, among other qualifications, has the ability to recognise what +humanity wants to say but cannot, and is able to set it down in black +and white, so that when the world reads it, it exclaims: "Why, that is +just what I think and feel! Only I could never put it into words!" + +When Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote the "Sonnets from the Portuguese," +she was writing of her own love for one particular man. So far she was +dealing with her own experiences; and if that had been all, the matter +might have ended there. But because uncountable women in every land have +loved in that same way, have thought those thoughts, and experienced +those identical emotions, though they were not able to write of them as +Mrs. Browning did, her "Sonnets" found an echo in hearts the world over: +they voiced a great human experience, a universal human longing. + +[Sidenote: The So-called "New Poetry"] + +One modern phase of verse-making has had a very demoralising effect on +the amateur. I refer to the outbreak of shapeless productions--devoid of +music, beauty, rhythm, and balance, and often lacking the rudiments of +sense--that developed before the war, and has been with us ever since. + +The followers of this cult advocate the abolition of all law and order: +each goes gaily on his own way, writing whatsoever he pleases, no matter +how crude, or banal, or incoherent, or loathsome; lines any and every +length; unlimited full stops, or none at all; just what is in his +brain--and what a state of brain it reveals! This so-called "new poetry" +resembles nothing in the world so much as the MSS. an editor +occasionally receives from inmates of lunatic asylums! + +Literary effusions of this type are on a par with the cubist and +futurist monstrosities that have tried to imagine themselves a new form +of pictorial art. + +Unfortunately, the desire to kick over all laws and rules, and +everything that betokens restraint and discipline, is no new one. +Periodically the world has seemed to be attacked with wholesale madness, +as history shows; and a pronounced feature of each upheaval has been the +attempt of certain deranged imaginations to abolish that order which is +Heaven's first law (and which cannot be abolished without wide-spread +ruin), and in its place to exalt the deification of self. The years +preceding every outbreak have invariably been marked by excesses, +licence and extravagance of all kinds; while real art, wholesome living, +serious thinking, and steady, well-regulated work, have been at a +discount. + +Do not be misled by high-sounding statements, that all the incoherency +and carelessness and indifferent workmanship exhibited in recent +travesties of Art was a groping after better things, the breaking of +shackles that chained the free heaven-born spirit of man to miserable +mundane convention. + +It was nothing of the sort. + +Rather, it was a form of hysteria that was the outcome of the "soft" +living, the feverish quest of pleasure, the craving for notoriety at the +least expenditure of effort, the longing to be perpetually in the +limelight, and the absence of self-discipline that was all too +noticeable in the earlier years of this century. + + +THE LIMITATIONS OF YOUTH + +By EUGENE FIELD + + I'd like to be a cowboy an' ride a fiery hoss + Way out into the big and boundless West; + I'd kill the bears an' catamounts an' wolves I come across, + An' I'd pluck the bal-head eagle from his nest! + With my pistols at my side, + I would roam the prarers wide, + An' to scalp the savage Injun in his wigwam would I ride-- + If I darst; but I darsen't! + + I'd like to go to Afriky an' hunt the lions there, + An' the biggest ollyfunts you ever saw! + I would track the fierce gorilla to his equatorial lair, + An' beard the cannybull that eats folks raw! + I'd chase the pizen snakes, + An' the 'pottimus that makes + His nest down at the bottom of unfathomable lakes-- + If I darst; but I darsen't! + +The "new" poetry was a manifestation of the decadence undermining +pre-war Art. + +Do not be deluded into thinking that the aberrations of ill-trained +minds that sometimes flaunt themselves before your bewildered eyes, in +some very "thin" volume of verse, or in some freakish periodical, are +art, or even worth the paper they are printed on. They are not. Very +probably they would never have got into print at all, but for the fact +that those who affect the cult are, for the most part, people with more +money than discrimination, who can afford to pay for publicity. + +Just as a certain type of eccentricity of action may be the precursor of +mental disease, so a certain type of eccentricity of thought may be the +forerunner of moral and spiritual disease. + +Avoid unnecessary abbreviations: _th'_ for the, _o'_ for of, and similar +curtailments. These are often mere mannerisms, and introduced with the +idea that they are distinctive: but they are not. + +[Sidenote: Some General Hints worth Noting] + +Long lines are better for descriptive verse than short ones. + +A stately metre, with well-marked cadence, is best suited to a lofty +theme. This is illustrated in "The Valley Song," by the late Mable +Earle, which we reprint by courtesy of the _American Sunday School +Times_. + + +A VALLEY SONG + +By MABLE EARLE + + _"Because the Syrians have said, The Lord is God of + the hills, but He is not God of the valleys."_ + + God of the heights where men walk free, + Above life's lure, beyond death's sting; + Lord of all souls that rise to Thee, + White with supreme self-offering; + Thou who hast crowned the hearts that dare, + Thou who hast nerved the hands to do, + God of the heights! give us to share + Thy kingdom in the valleys too. + + Our eyes look up to those who stand + Vicegerents of Thy stainless sway, + Heroes and saints at Thy right hand, + Thy priests and kings of glory they. + Not ours to tread the path they trod, + Splendid and sharp, still reaching higher; + Not ours to lay before our God + The crowns they snatched from flood and fire. + + Yet through the daily, dazing toil, + The crowding tasks of hand and brain, + Keep pure our lips, Lord Christ, from soil, + Keep pure our lives from sordid gain. + Come to the level of our days, + The lowly hours of dust and din, + And in the valley-lands upraise + Thy kingdom over self and sin. + + Not ours the dawn-lit heights; and yet + Up to the hills where men walk free + We lift our eyes, lest faith forget + The Light which lighted them to Thee. + God of all heroes, ours and Thine, + God of all toilers! keep us true, + Till Love's eternal glory shine + In sunrise on the valleys too. + +Short lines, irregular metre and unusual construction, are best for +light or whimsical subjects. "The Limitations of Youth," by Eugene +Field, is an example. + +To put it another way: when the subject is dignified, the lines should +roll along; when the subject is light and airy, the lines should ripple +past. + +The more peaceful the subject, the more need for mellifluent treatment. + +Stern or tragic subjects can stand rugged wording and shape. + +Verses written for children, or on childish themes, should be simple in +construction, with rhymes near together, and lines of not more than +eight syllables as a rule. 8.6's, rhyming alternately, are the easiest +to memorise, and therefore the most popular with children. + +Examine the poems in Stevenson's _A Child's Garden of Verses_, and note +the simplicity of their construction, the music of their rhymes, and +their clear, direct method of statement--the latter an essential if +children are to be interested. + +One of the reasons for the appeal that "Hiawatha" makes invariably to +children is its direct form of statement, with few involved sentences; +and its eight-syllable lines. + +Eugene Field's poems on childhood themes, and some of the passages in +"The Forest of Wild Thyme," by Alfred Noyes, are delightful examples of +the possibilities of 8.6 lines with alternate rhymes. + + * * * * * + +Merely to break up prose into lines of irregular length, is not to +produce poetry. + +There must not only be beauty in individual lines and phrases, but there +must be beauty of idea and form in the verses as a whole. + +At the same time, never sacrifice sense to sound. + +Young writers sometimes say to me, "I see so much, and feel so much, yet +I cannot put it into words: the thoughts are beautiful while they are +inside my brain, but there seem no words adequate to express them; I am +baffled directly I try to put them down on paper." + +Don't despair. Every poet has felt the same: but let it encourage you to +recollect that many have got the better of the feeling, by hard work and +sheer determination. After all you have all the words there are, and the +most famous of poets had no more than this to work with. We sometimes +forget that in the end, the greatest writer that ever lived had to +reduce everything to the same words you and I are free to use. + +You may remember that Mark Twain once went to a well-known preacher, who +had delivered a magnificent sermon, and, after extolling it and thanking +him for it, the humourist added, "But I have seen every word of it +before, in print!" + +The astonished preacher asked, indignantly, "Where?" + +"In the dictionary," replied Mark Twain. + + + + +The Function of the Blue Pencil + + +Just as we all know that a king would be no king without a crown, and +the Lord Mayor of London would be but a mere mortal man without his mace +and his gorgeous gilt coach, so no self-respecting editor is supposed to +exist apart from a blue pencil. And I admit it is a serviceable article, +but, personally, I prefer that it should be used by the contributor. I +do not want to have to spend time in revising a MS., to get it into +publishable shape; neither does any other editor. + +The blue pencil stands for deletion. Practically every writer needs to +cut down the first draft of a story or article. Some prune more severely +than others, but all experienced workers reduce and condense before they +finally pass a MS. for publication. + +It is not until a MS. is completed--roughly--that one can actually tell +where it is balanced, and where it is light-weight or top-heavy. Things +expand in unexpected directions as we go along; developments suggest +themselves temptingly when we are halfway through, and then throw the +earlier chapters quite out of proportion to the story as a whole; +matters that seemed of great moment when we were in Chapter 2 have toned +down to the very ordinary by the time we have piled on ten more chapters +of stress and thrills and emotion. + +One cannot stop to adjust it as one goes along, because no one can say +whether the re-adjustment itself may not be out of gear by the time the +finale is reached. + +Consequently, the best way is to go right on, letting everything fall as +it happens (but keeping as near as you can to your original plan, unless +there is just cause for a departure therefrom). When you have written +"Finis," overhaul the MS. from beginning to end, sparing neither your +blue pencil nor your feelings, if common sense, and knowledge of your +craft, tell you that certain portions or sentences would be better +omitted. + +It is neither an easy nor a pleasing task--especially to the novice. The +early children of our brain seem of such priceless worth, that we regard +them with a certain sense of awe. "Did _I_ write that beautiful passage +about the moon silvering the tree-tops? Then it _must_ belong just where +I put it. Cut it out? Certainly not! I consider it the most exquisite +paragraph in the whole story." + +This is the way we look at our work when we have not many published +items to our name. Later, experience and the training that comes from +practice, teach us to arm ourselves as a matter of course with a blue +pencil, ignore personal sentiment, and look at our MSS. with a coldly +critical eye. Then we may discover that a sentence or paragraph, though +of undoubted merit and beauty--(we need not deny it that much!)--does +not quite fit in where we originally placed it. Possibly it is +superfluous, in view of what follows later; or redundant, in view of +what went before; or it may have lost life and colour with the passage +of time; or it may seem hackneyed, or weak, (though we do not use such +insulting words to our own writings till we are fairly advanced). But +whatever the reason, if on examining a sentence, it does not appear to +serve any vital purpose, take it out. If you think there is worth in it, +save it for a possible use at a later date in some other MS., though, +personally, I do not believe in any sort of _rechauffe_ of old matter, +simply because as time goes on we change in our style of writing as we +do in our tastes and preferences in neckties. And what you write this +year, will not necessarily dovetail in with what you write in a few +years' time. Still, if you feel it would be wasting flashes of genius +to destroy it, and it would be any comfort to you to hoard it--do so; +the main thing is to delete it from the MS. you are revising, if there +be any doubt about its value. + +A beginner's MS. usually needs to be cut down to about half its original +length. Hard luck, for the beginner, I know, considering the way he will +have laboured lovingly over every sentence. + +[Sidenote: MSS. need to be "Pulled Together"] + +Nevertheless, it pulls the work together if the blue pencil be applied +generously. Some articles and stories appear to sprawl all over the +place (sprawl is not a pretty word, but it is expressive). The writer +does not seem able to follow up any idea to a logical conclusion, +without interpolating so much irrelevant matter that the main theme is +nearly smothered by the extraneous items, and the reader gets only a +confused impression of what it is all about. + +Such work needs "pulling together," _i.e._ the essential portions that +should follow each other in natural sequence need to be brought closer +together; and this can only be done by clearing away the non-essentials +that separate them. + +[Sidenote: The way Phil May made his Sketches] + +The late Phil May once showed me how he drew his inimitable sketches, +that always looked so simple, oh _so_ simple! to the uninitiated. First +he made a sketch full of detail, with everything included, much as +other people make sketches. When this was finished to his satisfaction, +he started to take out every line that was not actually necessary to the +understanding of the picture. Finally he had left nothing but a few +strokes--yet, such was his genius for seeing what to delete and what to +leave, the picture had gained rather than lost in character, force, and +comprehensiveness. + +The secret of the matter is this. By removing everything that is not of +vital importance to the whole, (whether in painting or in writing), +there is less confusion of vision, less to distract the mind, or switch +it off to side issues. + +This does not mean that everything is better for being given in bare +outline. Undoubtedly certain additions and decorations and descriptions +can be made to emphasise the author's meaning, to impress a scene more +vividly on the mind. We do not want all our pictures to be modelled on +the lines of Phil May, clever as his work was. There is room for endless +variety. The author should remember, however, that it is better to err +on the side of drastic deletion, rather than leave in matter that is no +actual gain to the picture, and only serves to distract and confuse and +overload the reader's mind. + +[Sidenote: Beware the Plausible Imp] + +There is a Plausible Imp who perches on the top of every beginner's +inkstand, and passes his wicked little time assuring them all that they +are too clever to need hedging about by rules, that their work cannot be +improved upon, and would only be spoilt if it were altered in any way. + +Don't heed him! The beginner's work is never spoilt by condensation; +rather it is invariably improved by cutting down. In the main, every +writer's work needs pruning, until he has had sufficient practice to +know what is not worth while to put down in the first place--and one +needs to be exceptionally gifted to know this. + +If, on reading your MS. after its completion, you feel your work is so +good that it needs no blue pencil--beware! You have not got there yet! + + + + + +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. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LURE OF THE PEN*** + + +******* This file should be named 36837.txt or 36837.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/8/3/36837 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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