■ n iNE * : %m$'&k'-' y ; '£.«& H| HH llflll Bi ■5HBBS Lib, ,RY OF CONGRESS, fti^****. Shelf, JA&_ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. TTtrn^s ADYICE TO YOUNG AUTHORS TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS CONCERNING ALL SORTS OF LITERARY AND JOURNALISTIC WORK PERSONALLY CONTRIBUTED BY LEADING AUTHORS OF THE DAY COMPILED AND EDITED By ALICE R. MYLENE For sale by the Co-operative Literary Press 59A Ames Building, Boston in&X / BOSTON, MASS. : MORNING STAR PUBLISHING HOUSE, 1891. Copyrighted, 189k BY ALICE R. MYLENE All rights reserved CONTENTS. PAGB Preface . • . . . v To Write or Not to Write 1 The Literary Life 18 General Suggestions 34 The Modern Press. — Journalism 57 Humorous Writing. — Translations 82 Writing for the Dollar .91 Index to Contributors 97 Index to Subjects 99 PBEFACE "To write or not to write "; or, in other words, "Shall literature be adopted as a profession ? " is the question to-day with thousands of young writers who have satisfied themselves that they possess more or less talent in this direction. After having decided the first question, the would-be writer looks about him for tools with which to learn his trade ; and, in doing this, he discovers that in no line of professional work to-day is there sharper competi- tion than in authorship. A casual glance into the world of letters shows him that writers are already legion, and the number is every day increasing, and that the public is growing to be more and more of a reading public, con- sequently more critical, exacting, and less easily pleased. He begins to realize that these are especially the days in which a man must be qualified for what he undertakes to do ; to get a hearing he must be quite equal to his com- petitors ; to earn a livelihood by writing he must be supe- rior to the majority. These things show him that he must use care in choosing his tools, and that the same industry and painstaking with which a carpenter learns VI PREFACE. to build a house, or an engineer to run a locomotive, are necessary to success in authorship. This little volume has been rendered necessary by the large number of inquiries in regard to these matters called forth by the recent publication of "A Letter of Advice to Begin- ners." It meets the accumulated and urgent inquiries of many young contributors with one comprehensive reply. Through the kindness of many eminent authors and jour- nalists who have personally contributed words of counsel, and without whose generous assistance the book could never have been written, the compiler is able to offer information and advice that, coming from persons who know whereof they speak, cannot fail to be useful and inspiring to the young writer thirsting for literary fame. Alice R. Mylene. I. TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. Contributors. — Herbert Milton Sylvester, Edmond Picton, George William Curtis, Maurice Francis Egan, Hezekiah Butterworth, Oscar Fay Adams. The theory that one must be a genius or the object of special endowment to be a successful author or journal- ist was exploded long ago. Yery few of the successful writers of to-day can be said to possess that gift of the gods that made the whole world listen to Burns while he sang his wonderful songs from field and furrow, and compelled men to ask, "Who is this man Shakespeare that can afford to set at naught all common rules and precedents, and people the world with such marvelous creations ? " Who knows what his gifts are until he tests them? Is not that which is commonly termed genius largely intensity of feeling, emotion, thought, activity? Who can say that true greatness does not in a great measure spring from culture, and that high endeavors are not the secret of glad success ? 2 TO WHITE OR NOT TO WRITE. There are indeed vast differences between men; but the secret of those differences lies far less in special gift vouchsafed to one and withheld from another than in the differing degree in which we use or fail to use those elements of human greatness which lie within the grasp of all. Genius is energy quite as much as insight ; and insight is as much dependent upon tireless activity as upon Divine gift. Power of attention, forceful habits of industry, wisdom in seeing and promptitude in seizing opportunity, patient perseverance, courage and hopeful- ness under disappointments, are the forces that win. For my own part I do not believe in heaven-born geniuses unless they supplement their genius with the healthy drudgery of daily work. Anthony Trollope said that the best aid to a genius was a bit of cobbler's wax to fasten yourself to your stool until you had accomplished your allotted task. He evidently believed genius nothing but commonplace, honest, hard work. In a multitude of witnesses lies the surety of truth. In a multitude of individual experiences in any one line of work is the certainty of a well-guided and profitable exer- tion ; and I can give no better expression to my thought and feeling upon this question than by giving the helpful words of well-known authors and journalists, permitting them to speak for me. TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 6 Herbert Milton Sylvester, author of " Homestead Highways " and " Prose Pastorals/' is one of the later recruits to the ranks of successful word painters. His clear and forcible style, keen analysis of character, and insight into human nature entitle him to a foremost place among writers of the John Burroughs school. He makes abundant use of Nature's color and romantic effects, but writes in a manner peculiarly his own, — a manner that is subtle and very modern. He has been spoken of by some of our leading critics as the Richard Jeffries of New England. He deals in his essay work with the quaint and old-fashioned qualities of New England life after a most idyllic fashion. He has an assured place in Ameri- can literature. Mr. Sylvester says : — u Given a palette of colors, a hand of brushes, a fresh canvas, and good working light, one has the material for a chef d' centre. The thing is to show others what is clear- est to your own inner consciousness, — what you see, feel, and love. Technique is a great thing. Tone, delicacy of touch, crispness of handling, breadth of treatment and composition, are separately quite as important. To com- prehend all and to use them is art. " To write is as much art as to paint. G-oose-quill or pen, ink and paper, are the material, but the successful combination is of the subtle, intangible essence of life and living, the every-day, commonplace experiences that 4 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. come to all. People begin and end with the comparative. Be it books or their own kind, it does not matter pro- vided the experience differs from their own. This is something the author does not always have in mind. u There is no common road to prestige in literary work, so much depends upon the writer. A broad humanity and love for the common things in life only will arouse the same instinct and quality in others and reinforce them. " Imagination, vividness, action and coloring, and a good vocabulary are indispensable. With good matter, dra- matic force, and truthfulness to incident and detail, a successful hearing should be obtained. The canvas, the tersely-spoken word, and written epigram are the blue- print reproductions of the negatives into which the mental visions have been developed. Every written sentence is the visual interpretation of the inner consciousness, which should be the best in us no matter what the book may be or who its author. The test of value is sincerity. " Were you ever on a rummaging expedition in the old house garret to find stowed away with the ancient house- hold belongings a bundle of time-yellowed missives, odor- ous with the scent of crumbling rose leaves, — old-fashioned love-letters, sweet, tender, and romantic, like when dear grandma was a ruddy-cheeked girl and first broke their waxen seals ? Then, with your treasure in hand, did you TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 5 dust a place to sit and pore over the olden romance in the half-light, weaving a newer in the cobweb draperies of the single gable window, forgetful of time and all else? "Ah, when you write from like impulse and like intensity of purpose, you will compel a large " reading parish," as Dr. Holmes terms it. You will get fame ; and, what is better, a good bank account. "Books are born in the heart. Mrs. Stowe's 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' is a heart romance. Mrs. Stowe's heart held all her characters. They lived in that capacious organ, — not in her brain, which was their sunny Southern planta- tion, — until their doings and sayings were made public in book form. Topsy-like, they ' growed ' there in Mrs. Stowe's heart, and, when old enough to do the work to which she had trained them, they were sent into the world we know to make their own ways and to be loved and cherished by others. "Do you think of writing ? What do you wish to say ? What end do you seek ? Is it a selfish one, or can you contain yourself no longer ? Do heart and soul compel you ? Is it something which will better the world and its dwellers ? Important questions all, for the quality of your work depends upon your object. If you are posing, if you are anxious to see yourself in print and your name upon the title-page, if you have money, there are publish- 6 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. ers who will take both manuscript and money and return you the empty distinction of unrequited authorship and a batch of criticisms that will be likely to make you feel intensely uncharitable and uncomfortable whenever you see or think of them. " You will say the critics are a heartless set, a selfish guild. They are not heartless, but generally truthful and forbearing. They say cutting things to arouse you to better effort or the futility of further attempts at author- ship. It is a great deal sometimes to attract attention. If your faults are kindly pointed out, you may believe and go on to higher aspirations. If the critic empties his cornucopia of good things into your lap, question his sin- cerity or his judgment. That is one kind of ridicule, and very effective generally. The critic is not infallible, but human. His mental make-up may be cut on the bias; his humanity warped and twisted ; his fairness on a protracted spree. He is then a subject for your compassion and patience. Unfortunately there are a few of the ilk. Mr. G-unther's experience with the critics is in point. The disregard of the public for the critic's opinion in that case was a notable one. " How far your work is spontaneous is for others to say. Your own enthusiasm is no test. Your story completed, you submit it to the good judgment of another ; but beware of soothing speech and faint praise. Better the worst to TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 7 be said than that. A faithful friend will advise you to lay your work aside for a time until you will be able to peruse it with an unfeeling, judicious severity. You will then discover what your friend did, — the loose, sleazy places, the halting gait of your characters, its obscurity and unevenness. Your vision is clearer. You begin to " cut " timorously at first ; then more boldly ; and finally you "blue-pencil" with a growing delight, almost savagery ; removing whole paragraphs and chap- ters, even, in your Draconian rigor, — that is, if you are to get on. It is like having the measles, rash, or chicken- pox. One has to have them in a literary sort of way. Whatever is in you will come out. Yet if, like a cracked teacup, your work is beyond mending, throw it away and begin over again. Your success will be more assured. "Writers are too anxious to rush into print. Once before the public, they wish to stay there either by new ventures or by persistent newspaper paragraphing. Don't be discouraged if your name is not mentioned in some article which purports to be a write-up of your literary locality while the author of a single poem may be accorded a line of distinction. Let your own work sound your praise. It is by far the more solid and substantial. People are paid to do things sometimes. Show the crit- ics your appreciation of what they think you deserve, but don't run after them. They will respect you the more 8 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. if you are independent and are not constantly asking favors. "Don't be a 'fad.' It is generally a condition to ulti- mate indifference. We can't all be Stevensons, Hag- gards, Ibsens, or Kiplings, who have all had in their turn to give way to others. Instances are rare where continu- ous literary activity has been well sustained or profitable. People tire of too much of one thing. The rarity of a toothsome delicacy but whets the appetite to a keener edge. Don't make haste, — don't write yourself out. u ' What shall I write ? ' Write that which is in you which must be written. Any thing suits the public — the reading public — that takes it out of itself. Sensationalism as such has had its day, if the signs are to be read aright. As to writing what is in you, I mean that which you feel, know, love, and which you wish to share with others. Truth, like good coin, will go anywhere; so tell the truth as you see it. "'How did you do your books ? ' you ask. " I was impelled to write them. I had no idea of a book when I began. When l Prose Pastorals ' was pub- lished, ' Homestead Highways ' was complete in the manuscript. I could not tell you by what method I wrote. I simply wrote what was in my heart and what I wished others to see with me, and found myself on the bookshelves along with other authors. No one can tell TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 9 you how to do it. It is impossible. You must find the road for yourself. The best compensation which has come to me are the letters from strangers, near and far away, thanking me for writing those two books. In a recent note from the author of ' Over the Teacups ' he said, — and I presume I am revealing no confidences, — 'It does an author good to tell him he has pleased or profited a reader who does not know him personally, but is will- ing to take the trouble to let him know that his thoughts have found hospitable reception in the mind and heart of at least one of his reading constituency.' " Most authors feel the same way, and it is worth writ- ing for, worth seeking, for the individual who delights to borrow your vision for a look at familiar things to say how much you have helped him, with such a wide audi- ence as a book brings to one. Write for your neighbor and the stranger as well, and you will get on." Edmond Picton, a young writer whose keenness of insight, mental acuteness, and literary instinct, make him a conspicuous figure in the front rank of literary journal- ists, says : — '•'Not to write' directed to those whose brains are teeming with ideas, whose crowded thoughts want air and recognition, would be a cruel mandate. Seldom has a young writer, in whom the ' divine spark ' has been 10 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. implanted, been swerved aside from a course known to him as the right one. Through the thorniest of paths, the weariest of climbings, he will go until the voices of the dissuading ones are a mere echo from his attaining height. A musician will melodize into music, a song- stress will carol forth song ; why may not a writer indite words ? But you say, ' Words, words, — only words ! ' From words may be shaped a thought ; from a thought a line ; from lines, something for good or ill. " All men know not like expression ; yet there is some- thing sacred in the outpourings of a mind, — in the voicing of a God-given attribute; and minute dissection will find therein some beauty, as in a gem lying lowly at our feet. Those high in the dizzy ascent prate of the perils of the way, the difficulties to be surmounted, little judging that invincible spirits are not to be turned back, and that each admonition is but a lodestone to their feet. " ' But every one is dabbling in ink,' some one declares. Let them dabble, I say, as long as ink is plentiful ! For the earnest ones it will not be dabbling long. Something to be seen and remembered will take form, and the patient fingers that wield the pen will ere long be convinced of its mightiness." George William Curtis, the celebrated author and lecturer, whose style, both spoken and written, is re- TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 11 markable for its transparency, its energy, its elegance, writes : — " You propose a large text for a little sermon, but I should be very glad if I could say a word that might help any of my younger fellow-workers. It is useless to dis- cuss qualifications for authorship, because the one qualifi- cation with which we all begin is the desire to write and publish. Some success in the beginning generally deter- mines the decision for the literary profession. Then the first rule is regularity and order in study and work, for a desultory habit tends to end in entire indolence and inactivity. Style in writing comes by natural perception and careful familiarity with the masters. If there must be an arbitrary rule it should be lucidity, conciseness, and simplicity. But these are consistent with amplitude and richness. Addison and Goldsmith are not more masters of style than Milton and Burke, not to venture into nearer realms. Barrenness is not simplicity, nor want of color lucidity. But a man should confine himself to drawing unless he have the taste and power to deal with strong color. u It is, indeed, all instinct and thoughtful practice, based upon a reverence for the art of literature like that of an artist in all other branches." Maurice Francis Egan is an author who deals with 12 TO WEITE OR NOT TO WRITE. difficult and unusual inquiries, whose books are the result of extremely laborious research, and are marked by great ingenuity, originality, and earnestness. Mr. Egan is one of the professors at Notre Dame University, Notre Dame, Ind. Speaking of the art of authorship, he says : — " No man or woman ought to attempt to enter the pro- fession of letters unless that man or woman has talent, tact, energy, and indomitable perseverance; and talent, tact, energy, are useless without the last quality, which is as coal to an ocean steamer. It ought to be remem- bered, too, that, while a lawyer may defend a criminal, or a business man look on his talent as a means for mere money-making without too closely considering the aims of his employer, the writer's function is more spiritual, more delicate ; it demands more scruples. Otherwise, he will have greater consolation in the keeping of a peanut stand and his own self-respect than in bending the highest gifts and acquirements to earn a living at the expense of his principles and the morality of his people ; for every time a man sells his conviction or falls below himself he drags down many. " Literature is an endless art. One must regard lan- guage as the sculptor regards his mass of marble. One cannot take another man's statue and call it one's own ; the chisel must be used through weary days until the marble begins to breathe. Words are hindrances to TO WKITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 13 expression; a writer must learn to conquer them until they fit his thoughts like a glove and are plastic, until they are not mere symbols of his thought, but are saturated with the thought itself. One begins with a good diction- ary, a book of synonyms, ' The Yicar of Wakefield,' and 1 Apologia pro Yita Sua.' With these tools, industry in using them, and constant practice in the art of saying exactly what one wants to say, the hard rock of language will yield — in time ; for art is long. " As to the literary demands of the day, it seems to me that there was no time when a bright and individual man- ner of repeating old, human truths would be more quickly appreciated by editors and the public. In novels it is not the dialect that counts, but the truth. If one's poem, story, or essay be rejected unanimously, one may be sure that it lacks something in truth of conception or in exact- ness of expression. Let us look it over, in the light of our literary conscience, before we become cynical. "Every young writer should read Anthony Trollope's 'Autobiography ' several times ; and let no day pass with- out having written at least five hundred words, to revise them at least twice. Five lines of verse, each line copied and revised ten times, is enough work for a week. These words are recommended to writers who are pre- paring, not to those in harness, who cannot help them- selves now." 14 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. Hezekiah Butterworth, an author of special power, clothes his stories in language as simple and direct as it is strong and beautiful. There is moral tonic in his books, stimulating thought, fine and persuasive appeals to the imagination, as well as marvelous plot and weird incident. " Horace, nearly two thousand years ago," he says, "expressed the successful literary art in these terms: ' He who unites what is useful with what is agreeable wins every vote. His book crosses the sea ; it will enrich the socii (Roman publishers) and gain for himself imperish- able fame.' If I have won any success with my pen it has been by regarding this principle of endeavoring to make what is useful agreeable. "I am a believer in evolution in literature. All good work is growth. The best work is the evolution of the oft- rejected manuscript. If I have failed, it has been because a busy life and kind-hearted editors have prevented me from maturing my literary plans, and I have published too much in outline. " So I would say, ' Have a useful purpose, make what is useful agreeable, and evolve it until it be perfect.' Such writing to-day, as in the times of literary Rome, will ' win every vote ' and ' enrich the socii ' if not yourself. Oscar Fay Adams has won an enviable reputation in TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 15 the world of letters as a novelist and a general writer of strong individuality. It is not easy to say wherein con- sists the unmistakable touch of genius in his work, but it is undoubtedly there. He always seems to strike the right vein and to use the right words. His composition is at all times vigorous, and never obscure. "An experience of some years as reader of book manu- scripts confirms me in the belief that if authors were dis- posed to heed a word of advice now and then/' he says, "they would be spared some disappointments and annoy- ances. To begin with, I should insist strongly upon one point much neglected by writers of fiction — reliance upon conversation and action for the portrayal of character, rather than upon description. Note, for example, the open- ing chapter of ' Pride and Prejudice,' and see how Mr. and Mrs. Bonnet reveal themselves in one short dialogue far more completely than any descriptive account of them could possibly do. To assert that a character is gener- ous, petty, or ambitious, carries very little weight with it if the actions and conversation of the person described do not confirm it. Characters should seem to describe them- selves, and the author should be content to let them do so. "Authors often fail because their books are loosely constructed. If the work is a story, the main theme is not sufficiently clear, or there are too many dis- connected episodes, too many descriptions leading to 16 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. nothing in particular, and too cramped and inelastic a vocabulary. "Many writers are disposed to overwork certain adjec- tives, like ' dainty,' ' charming,' l fairy,' etc. Exactness of statement should be cultivated. It is not description to say that certain objects are ' dainty ' or 'fairy-like.' To say that a person is ' charming ' tells us nothing unless we know wherein the charm consists. Truth compels me to say here that women are far more inexact and indefi- nite in their use of adjectives than are men. "Avoid worn-out terms of expression, such as 'the scene of our story,' 'dear reader,' 'festive board,' and many more that might be named. If quotations from Scripture are made, do not give chapter and verse. Not one reader in a hundred will take the pains to verify the references, and a page bristling with allusions to ' Acts 5:27,' 'Gen. 7:23,' 'Deut. 30:15,' repels more readers than it attracts. "Do not attempt to write verse without a fair under- standing of the laws of versification. This is an age of careful workmanship in verse writing, and the writer who is not willing to learn how to avoid false rhymes, limping lines, and weak or ill-chosen adjectives, should never essay verse at all. Above all else, do not fancy that to write blank verse is easier than writing in rhyme. Hardly one blank verse poem out of a hundred that is submitted TO WHITE OR NOT TO WRITE. 17 to a reader bears any internal evidence that its writer knows what constitutes blank verse. u In the preparation of manuscripts I should say that if a person writes a fairly legible hand, it is hardly worth while to go to the expense of having a manuscript type- written. I have found certain manuscripts thus prepared very fatiguing reading on account of the condensed, close character of the type. And, if you have any regard for a reader's eyes, never use purple ink in either hand or type written manuscript. " In writing to an editor or publisher regarding your manuscript, make your communication as brief as is con- sistent with clearness. It is not necessary for you to go into many details concerning it, and he or his reader can tell much better from examination of the manuscript than from what you may say whether the book or article is what they want." 18 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. II. THE LITERARY LIFE. Contributors. — Thomas Wentworth Higginson, James Jeffrey Roche, Mrs. Frank Leslie. Few prose writers of to-day have a more sensitive imagination or a more chaste and musical style than Thomas Wentworth Higginson. Any statement con- cerning authorship by any author of such scholarly attain- ment; as well as of such impressive beauty of expression, will be doubly welcomed. "Every author habitually measures the merits of a periodical by its appreciation of his or her last manu- script/' he says, in "Hints on Writing and Speech-Making," "just as a young lady is apt to estimate the management of a ball by her own private luck in respect to partners. But it is worth while at least to point out that in the treatment of every contribution the real interests of editor and writer are absolutely the same, and any antagonism is merely traditional, like the supposed hostility between France and England, or that which was once thought to exist between England and slavery. No editor can ever THE LITERARY LIFE. 19 afford the rejection of a good thing, and no author the publication of a bad one. The only difficulty lies in drawing the line. Were all offered manuscripts unequiv- ocally good or bad, there would be no great trouble ; it is the vast range of mediocrity which perplexes, — the majority are too bad for blessing and too good for ban- ning; so that no conceivable reason can be given for either fate, save that upon the destiny of any contribution may hang that of a hundred others just like it. But, what- ever be the standard fixed, it is equally for the interest of all concerned that it be enforced without flinching. "Nor is there the slightest authority for the supposed editorial prejudice against new or obscure contributors. On the contrary, every editor is always hungering and thirsting after novelties. To take the lead in bringing forward a new genius is as fascinating a privilege as that of the physician who boasted to Sir Henry Halford of having been the first man to discover the Asiatic cholera and to communicate it to the public. It is only stern necessity which compels the magazine to fall back so constantly on the regular old staff of contributors, whose average product has been gauged already ; just as every country lyceum attempts annually to arrange an entirely new list of lecturers, and has often ended with no bolder experiment than that of substituting G-ough and Beecher in place of the last year's Beecher and Gough. 20 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. " Of course no editor is infallible, and the best magazine contains an occasional poor article. Do not blame the unfortunate conductor : he knows it as well as you do — after the deed is done. Do you expect him to acknowl- edge the blunder when you tax him with it ? Never ! he feels it too keenly. He will rather stand up stoutly for the surpassing merits of the misshapen thing, as a mother for her deformed child ; and as the mother is nevertheless inwardly imploring that there may never be such another born to her, so be sure that it is not by reminding the editor of one calamity that you can allure him into risk- ing another. "An editor thus shows himself to be but human, and it is well enough to remember this fact when you approach him. He is not a gloomy despot, no Nemesis or Rhada- manthus, but a bland and virtuous man, exceedingly anxious to secure plenty of good subscribers and contrib- utors, and very ready to perform any acts of kindness not inconsistent with this grand design. Draw near him, therefore, with soft approaches and mild persuasions. Do not treat him like an enemy, and insist on reading your whole manuscript aloud to him with appropriate gestures. His time has some value, if yours has not; and he has therefore educated his eye till it has become microscopic, like a naturalist's, and can classify nine out of ten specimens by one glance at a scale or a feather. THE LITERAEY LIFE. 21 Fancy an ambitious echinoderm claiming a private inter- view with Agassiz, to demonstrate by verbal arguments that he is a mollusk ! Besides, do you expect to admin- ister the thing orally to each of the two hundred thousand, more or less, who turn the leaves of the magazine ? You are writing for the average eye, and must submit to its verdict. l Do not trouble yourself about the light on your statue ; it is the light of the public square which must test its value.' "Therefore do not despise any honest propitiation, however small, in dealing with your editor. Look to the physical aspect of your manuscript, and prepare your page so neatly that it shall allure instead of repel. Use good pens, black ink, nice white paper, and plenty of it. Do not emulate i paper-sparing Pope,' whose chaotic manuscript of the < Iliad,' written chiefly on the backs of old letters, still remains in the British Museum. If your document be slovenly, the presumption is that its literary execution is the same, Pope to the contrary notwithstand- ing. An editor's eye becomes carnal, and is easily attracted by a comely outside. If you really wish to obtain his good will for your production, do not first tax his time for deciphering it, any more than in visiting a millionaire to solicit a loan you would begin by asking him to pay for the hire of your carriage. " On the same principle, send your composition in such 22 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. a shape that it shall not need the slightest literary revision before printing. Many a bright production dies discarded which might have been made thoroughly presentable by a single day's labor of a competent scholar in shaping, smoothing, dovetailing, and retrenching. The revision seems so small an affair that the aspirant cannot conceive why there should be so much fuss about it. " ' The piece, you think, is incorrect; why, take it. I'm all submission; what you'd have it, make it.' But to discharge that friendly office no universal genius is salaried; and for intellect in the rough there is no market. "Rules for style, as for manners, must be chiefly nega- tive; a positively good style indicates certain natural powers in the individual, but a merely unexceptional style is only a matter of culture and good models. "Dr. Channing established in New England a standard of writing which really attained almost the perfection of the pure and the colorless, and the disciplinary value of such a literary influence, in a raw and crude nation, was very great; but the defect of just such a standard is that it ends in utterly renouncing all the great traditions of literature, and ignoring the magnificent mystery of words. Human language may be exact and prosaic in itself, up- lifted with difficulty into expression by the high thoughts it utters, or it may in itself become so saturated with THE LITERARY LIFE. 23 warm life and delicious association that every sentence shall palpitate and thrill with the mere fascination of the syllables. The statue is not more surely included in the block of marble than is all conceivable splendor of utterance in ; Worcester's Unabridged.' And as Ruskin says of painting that it is in the perfection and precision of the instantaneous line that the claim to immortality is made, so it is easy to see that a good phrase may outweigh a poor library. Keats heads the catalogue of things real with c sun, moon, and passages of Shakespeare ; ' and Keats himself has left behind him winged wonders of expression that were not surpassed by Shakespeare or by any one else who dared touch the English tongue. There may be phrases which shall be palaces to dwell in, treasure-houses to explore ; a single word may be a window from which one may perceive all the kingdoms of the earth and the glory of them. Some- times a word will speak what accumulated volumes have labored in vain to utter : there may be years of crowded passion in a phrase, and half a life may be concentrated in a sentence. " Such being the majesty of the art you seek to practice, you can at least take time and deliberation before dishon- oring it. Disabuse yourself especially of the belief that any grace or flow of style can come from writing rapidly. Haste can make you slipshod, but it can never make you 24 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. graceful. With what dismay one reads of the wonderful fellows in fashionable novels, who can easily dash off a brilliant essay in a single night ! When I think how slowly my poor thoughts come in, how tardily they con- nect themselves, what a delicious prolonged perplexity it is to cut and contrive a decent clothing of words for them, as a little girl does for her doll, — nay, how many new outfits a single sentence sometimes costs before it is presentable, till it seems at last, like our army on the Potomac, as if it never could be thoroughly clothed, — I certainly should never dare to venture into print, but for the confirmed suspicion that the greatest writers have done even thus. Do you know, my dear neophyte, how Balzac used to compose ? As a specimen of the labor that sometimes goes to make an effective style, the process is worth recording. " When Balzac had a new work in view, he first spent weeks in studying from real life for it, haunting the streets of Paris by day and night, note-book in hand. His mate- rials gained, he shut himself up until the book was written, absolutely excluding everybody but his publisher. In a month or two he emerged, pale and thin, with the com- plete manuscript in his hand, — not only written, but almost re-written, so thoroughly was the original copy altered, interlined, and rearranged. This strange produc- tion, almost illegible, was sent to the unfortunate printers ; THE LITERARY LIFE. 25 with infinite difficulty a proof-sheet was obtained, which, being sent to the author, was presently returned in a conditiou almost as hopeless as that of the manuscripts. Whole sentences were erased, others transposed, every thing modified. A second and a third proof followed, alike torn to pieces by the ravenous pen of Balzac. The despairing printers labored by turns, only the picked men of the office being equal to the task, and they relieving each other at hourly intervale, as beyond that time no one could endure the fatigue. At last, by the fourth proof-sheet, the author, too, was wearied out, though not contented. 'I work ten hours out of the twenty-four,' said he, l over the elaboration of my unhappy style, and I am never satisfied myself when all is done.' "Do not complain that this scrupulousness is probably wasted, after all, and that nobody knows. The public knows. People criticise far beyond what they can attain. When the Athenian audience hissed a public speaker for a mispronunciation, it did not follow that any one of the malcontents could pronounce as well as the orator. Men talk of writing down to the public taste, who have never yet written up to that standard. u l There never yet was a good tongue,' said old Fuller, 'that wanted ears to hear it.' If one were expecting to be judged by a few scholars only, one might hope some- how to cajole them; but it is this vast, unimpassioned, 26 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. unconscious tribunal, this average judgment of intelligent minds, which is truly formidable. It is something more undying than senates, and more omnipotent than courts, something which rapidly cancels all transitory reputa- tions, and at last becomes the organ of eternal justice and awards posthumous fame. " The first demand made by the public upon every com- position is, of course, that it should be attractive. In addressing a miscellaneous audience, whether through eye or ear, it is certain that no man living has a right to be tedious. Every editor is therefore compelled to insist that his contributors should make themselves agreeable, whatever else they may do. To be agreeable, it is not necessary to be amusing; an essay may be thoroughly delightful without a single witticism, while a monotone of jokes soon grows tedious. Charge your style with life, and the public will not ask for conumdrums. But the profounder your discourse, the greater must neces- sarily be the effort to refresh and diversify. I have observed, in addressing audiences of children in schools and elsewhere, that there is no fact so grave, no thought so abstract, but you can make it very interesting to the small people if you will only put in plenty of detail and illustration ; and in this respect grown men are not so very different. If, therefore, in writing, you find your theme to be abstruse, labor to render your statement THE LITERARY LIFE. 27 clear and attractive,. as if your life depended on it; your literary life does depend on it, and, if you fail, relapses into a dead language, and becomes, like that of Coleridge, only a Uographia literaria. Toil, therefore, not in thought alone, but in utterance; clothe and reclothe your pro- found conception twenty times, if need be, until you find some phrase that with its profundity shall be lucid also. "In learning to write effectively a newspaper office is a capital preparatory school ; for it teaches the use of material and compels to pungency of style. Being always at close quarters with his readers, a journalist must shorten and sharpen his sentences or he is doomed. Yet this mental alertness is bought at a severe price : such living from hand to mouth is apt to cheapen the whole mode of intellectual existence, and it is hard for a successful journalist to get the newspaper out of his blood, or to achieve any high literary success. "For purposes of illustration and elucidation, and even for wealth of vocabulary, much accumulated mate- rial is essential ; and whether this be won by reading or by experience makes no great difference. Eemember, however, that copious preparation has its perils also in the crude display to which it tempts. The object of high culture is not to exhibit culture but its results. "Be noble both in the affluence and economy of your diction ; spare no wealth that you can put in, and toler- 28 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. ate no superfluity that can be struck out. Remember the Lacedemonian who was fined for saying that in three words which might as well have been expressed in two. Do not throw a dozen vague epithets at a thing, in the hope that some one of them will fit; but study each phrase so carefully that the most ingenious critic cannot alter it without spoiling the whole passage for everybody but himself. For the same reason do not take refuge, as was the practice a few years since, in German combina- tions, heart-utterances, soul-sentiments, and hyphenized phrases generally, but roll your thought into one good English word. There is no fault which seems so hope- less as commonplaceness, but it is really easier to elevate the commonplace than to reduce the turgid. How few men in all the pride of culture can emulate the easy grace of a bright woman's letter ! "Be neither too lax nor too precise in your use of language : the one fault ends in stiffness, the other in slang. Some one told the Emperor Tiberius that he might give citizenship to men, but not to words. To be sure, Louis XIV., in childhood, wishing for a carriage, called for mon carrosse, and made the former feminine a masculine to all future Frenchmen. But do not under- take to exercise these prerogatives of royalty until you are quite sure of being crowned. "Especially do not indulge any whimsical preference THE LITERARY LIFE. 29 for either Latin or Anglo Saxon, the two great wings on which our magnificent English soars and sings j we can spare neither. The combination gives us an affluence of synonyms and a delicacy of discrimination such as no unmixed idiom can show. "While you utterly shun slang, whether native or for- eign born, — at present, by the way, our popular writers use far less slang than the English, — yet do not shrink from Americanisms, so they be good ones. American literature is now thoroughly out of leading-strings ; and the nation which supplied the first appreciative audience for Carlyle, Tennyson, and the Brownings can certainly trust its own literary instincts to create the new words it needs. To be sure, the inelegancies with which we are chiefly reproached are not distinctively American : Burke uses 'pretty considerable' ; Miss Burney says 'I trembled a few'; the English Bible says 'reckon,' Locke has 1 guess,' and Southey 'realize,' in the exact sense in which one sometimes hears them used colloquially here. Never- theless, such improprieties are, of course, to be avoided ; but whatever good Americanisms exist, let us hold to them by all means. To the previous traditions and associations of the English tongue we add resources of contemporary life such as England cannot rival. "There are certain minor matters, subsidiary to ele- gance, if not elegancies, and therefore worth attention. 30 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. Do not habitually prop your sentences on crutches, such as italic letters and exclamation points, but make them stand without aid ; if they cannot emphasize themselves, these devices are but a confession of helplessness. Do not leave loose ends as you go on, straggling things to be caught up and dragged along uneasily in foot-notes ; but work them all in neatly, as Biddy at her bread-pan gradually kneads in all the outlying bits of dough till she has one round and comely mass. Reduce yourself to short allowance of parentheses and dashes j if you employ them merely from clumsiness they will lose all their proper power in your hands. Economize quotation- marks also ; clear that dust from your pages ; assume your readers to be acquainted with the current jokes and the stock epithets : all persons like the compliment of having it presumed that they know something, and prefer to discover the wit or beauty of your allusion without a guide-board." James Jeffrey Roche, a prose writer of exquisite charm, is for penetration, pungency, wit, for brilliant and incisive epigram, surpassed by few. He modestly says : — " I do not feel that I am competent to offer advice to others out of my own limited experience and moderate success as a writer. The great authors, from the time THE LITERARY LIFE. 31 of Horace down to the present, have done so, and the gist of their advice is summed up by the former in two sentences : ' Knowledge is the beginning and fountain of good writing ' and ' Turn the stylus often/ i. e., revise and re-revise always. The poem, essay, or story that is ' dashed off' in a moment or hour of 'inspiration' is rarely worth the paper which it has spoiled. I wish I could conscientiously say that I have always followed these rules ; but I am giving advice now, not offering an example. "I do not know what books of composition are pop- ular at the present day, but an excellent one in use in my time was ' Quackenbos's Composition and Rhetoric,' founded, I think, on Blair's larger work. It is as good a guide to the cultivation of style as any of which I know. Doubtless there are as good or better ones published at present. It was old-fashioned, of course, in many respects. I have a vague recollection that it taught the student now to begin his essay with an ' exor- dium' and to conclude it with a 'peroration.' I fear I have forgotten how the latter feat was to be accom- plished, so I must end less stiltedly, by subscribing myself very truly yours." Mrs. Frank Leslie, the well-known editor and versa- tile writer, says : — 32 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. "I am not unmindful of the responsibility assumed in offering advice calculated to influence or confirm young persons in the choice of a literary career. Assuming, however, that the momentous step has been decided upon, the great question is how by substantial success to make writing worth while. Success, then, is to be assured not so much by the possession of extraordinary gifts as by the right employment of those actually vouchsafed us. " The three essential elements of the literary formula are rule, reason, and sentiment. The first of these may be modified by the study of good models ; the second is developed by practice and contact with life ; the third is the rarest quality of the three, but many modern writers appear to succeed without it. " To some of us it is given to hide a lack of wisdom by an adroit use of wit. Whatever your equipment, do not allow your pen to get rusty or dull. Write, write, write, spinning improvisation from memory when not drawing inspiration from your heart. Doing, not dreaming, is the secret of success. "When the thing is done let it stand or fall on its merits before the editorial tribunal. It is the editor's business and his bounden duty to separate the wheat from the chaff. Where a number of editors are unani- mous in their verdict, either favorable or the reverse, you may safely take that verdict as the most impartial, THE LITERARY LIFE. 33 practical, and salutary guide possible to literary prog- ress. The editor can tell in such matters. If he cannot, nobody can. " Too many of our writers of to-day regard the literary standard much lower than it really is, and pose as divinely-inspired agents sent into this world to reform things in a literary sense. I have long ago ceased to worry about the literary standard of modern literary tastes. The taste of the public of to-day is all right, my friend. It is the man who is so dreadfully anxious about it who is wrong. Don't give yourself any unnecessary alarm about the literary public. Take my word for it, it is amply able to take care of itself. If you want to make a livelihood in literature, don't join the croakers who bewail modern literary degradation. Just find out for yourself the status, and then train your pen to cater to it. You will find it much higher than you anticipated. Write to the level of the croaker and the bewailer, and see how quick your manuscript comes back to you. Things are not always so black as they are painted, and this truth applies very strongly to the literary atmosphere of the present." 34 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. III. GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. Contributors. — Edward W. Bok, Charles Warren Stoddard, Brander Mathews, William Dean Howells, Baron Adrian Schade van Westrum, Edward S. van Zile, Harriet H. Robinson, Julia A. Sabine, Lucy Stone, Louise Imogen Guiney, Margaret Deland, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Edward Everett Hale, Lida A. Churchill. Edward W. Bok, the well-known editor and author, will speak to us here with appropriateness. Mr. Bok is not only a man of rare executive ability, but in com- position is master of a style perfect in its grace and charm, its luminous clearness and finished simplicity. He says, " I cannot do better than give you an extract from an article I recently contributed to the i Ladies' Home Journal ' : " — "Discouraged young authors are complaining that their manuscripts are returned with the editorial com- ment that 'the public does not care for this particular line of work,' and several have written asking, 'What will the public read ? ' My friends, the public will read anything that is bright and good, and the fresher it is the better. If you have not succeeded in pleasing the V GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 35 public with what you have written, ten to one the fault lies with your work. Don't make yourself believe that the public is inappreciative. That is always the cry of the disgruntled author. The public is all right, and knows just what it wants. You just do your level best, and try to find what that is. And the quickest and best way to find it out is by experience. u One receipt for a successful literary hit is as follows : Get a fresh idea. Don't improve on somebody's else. The public shuns a literary imitator. Get a bright thought of your own, entirely original. Then write it out in article or in story. Go over it and cut it down one-half. Why? Because brevity is not only the soul of wit, but the soul of success as well. Don't use long or obsolete words. E very-day language, skillfully han- dled, is ample. Don't send people to the encyclopedia or dictionary to get your meaning. Some will do it, but the number is very, very small. Better be on the safe side and use simple words. The most effective sentences ever written were made of words of not more than two syllables. Try and tell the world something it doesn't know and wants to know. Do that, and suc- cess is yours. "Fancy writing is a grave into which hundreds of young writers are being buried. By fancy writing I mean soaring away over a moonlight, or badly describ- 36 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. ing a sunset, as so many are doing. Now, my friends, you just leave fancy writing to some other author — you do the helpful and practical sort. You may not receive the approval of the intense literary set. But that need not worry you. There is another big portion of the pub- lic whose approval is worth having. Just try for that first ; then, if you can get the other too, so much the bet- ter. The helpful writers are the authors of the future, whose work is going to be in demand. Literary sun- sets and moonlights are all very pretty, but there is just about one author in every fifty years who makes a reputation on them; and, as a rule, that is all he does make. " G-et originality into your work, my friend. If your forte is writing articles, choose a new, bright, popular topic, and treat it freshly. Don't affect the dull and stupid essay style. Use few words. Make your sen- tences brief. Be crisp and make your thoughts crackle. If you lean to fiction, tear away from old plots and take an incident that a reader will recognize at once as being fresh. Make your dialogue natural and bright; let your characters move around and have a being. Stop when your story is told; a lively story of two thousand words, full of life and snap, has in it more prospect of success than a drawn-out tale of five thousand words. If you feel poetry to be your forte, GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 37 appeal to the heart rather than the mind. Tell some every-day truth, and set it to a popular meter. Don't fail at blank verse when you can succeed at popular poetry. " The art of successfully naming an article or book is a bugbear to many an author. That it is an art is unquestionable. In these days the eye of the literary public must be quickly attracted, and a bright head-line to an article, or a fresh title on a book-cover, is invalu- able. No one can so well give a title, especially to a novel or a story, as can the author. This may seem like a truth scarcely worth repeating to some, but there are hundreds of authors who do not seem to know it. Almost every week brings me the outline of a story with a request that I name it. No one can do this success- fully. To give the right title to a story it is necessary to get thoroughly imbued with the spirit of it, and this no person can do so successfully as the author or some specially interested person. An outsider never can — especially from a mere outline of plot. " Too much care cannot be taken by an author about the title of a manuscript. A large percentage of the reading public who are buying books and reading articles are attracted by a striking title. I do not mean that a title must be sensational, far-fetched, and certainly it should not be irrelevant to the manuscript. But a fresh, 38 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. snappy title that will pique curiosity is a strong point for the modern author to bear in mind and seek after. The danger is in overstepping the bounds. A book or an article cannot live by its title. You may get the pub- lic to buy it ; but if the material is secondary to the title the fact is not forgotten, and the effect is felt on the next thing you publish. On the other hand, many a good book has suffered because of a heavy, unattractive title. I recall one of the brightest and most clever stories I ever read, published last year, which was given a title that completely killed it. It was an exceedingly viva- cious and lively society novel, an exception to its class. But an unfortunate, one-word title was given to it, expressing nothing and suggesting precisely what people nowadays are not reading — heavy fiction." Charles Warren Stoddard, a man of great and diversified gifts, a born idealist, and an author of elevated and refined style, writes from the Catholic University of America at Washington, D. C. : — " My advice to all young writers is, be natural. I was far from it when I was young ; most young writers are : but the books I love to read are written in the simplest and purest English, and these are the books most easily remembered. If a man can talk well, and can write just as he talks, his style is pretty sure to be natural. Bril- GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 39 liant and picturesque English is at times very attractive ; I feel the charm of it, and used to feed upon such books as filled my mouth with delicious words ; but for real or lasting pleasure I must seek simplicity. " The fact that I began to write rhymes when I was fifteen, and published an immature volume of verse a few years later, is one of which I am not proud; but the experience I gained in the nice selection of words and in the modeling of phrases no doubt did me a world of good. I no longer care to write verses, but enjoy try- ing to make prose musical. My first attempts in this line were anything but successful. I overshot the mark. This was, perhaps, fortunate. I had only to tone myself down to shoot. "I find that the work which is hardest to do, and the least cheering at the time I am doing it, proves in the end to be the best ; while another page, which I have dashed off with great ease and no little satisfaction, is in reality comparatively worthless. Therefore I say to all young writers, — when you write, write slowly, if you can, and carefully : then lay your work aside for a little while ; let it get cold, as it were, while you begin to forget it : go back after a time to your first draft, and you will be surprised to find how poor it is — or how good it is : rewrite it ; re-rewrite it ; lay it aside once more : when- ever you return to it try to simplify your sentences and 40 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. make them clear and sweet, — and may you find the same quiet enjoyment in the labor that I have found." Brander Mathews, the author of many novels attract- ive and interesting for their vividly sketched characters and the unflagging animation of the narration, and also of a number of popular essays always marked by careful writing and strong common sense, says : — " The advice which I could give a beginner in literary work might be condensed into two sentences : First, do your best always ; second, cultivate a specialty, or several specialties. The sooner the beginner can win recognition as an expert in any department of knowledge, whether it be base ball or ceramics or missionary work, the brighter his prospects. And no reputation is more valuable than that of never scamping one's work." William Dean Howells has won for himself a per- manent place in the ranks of the most artistic, the most thoughtful, as well as the most brilliant, writers of our age. Shakespeare's men and women are not more alive than his ; while their sentiments and actions are por- trayed with a keen wit, a deep wisdom, and a knowledge of human nature truly remarkable. He says : — " The most that can be taught in authorship is so very little, and yet there is so much to be learned, that I think GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 41 the skillfulest writer must feel that he is only getting the use of his tools at last. To say something from one's own knowledge and belief, and to say it simply and clearly, appears to me the beginning and ending of the whole matter. But this is hard." Baron Adrian Schade yan Westrum, editor of "Book Chat," and one of the noblest masters in the use of the English tongue, gives the following advice : — "In the reviewing of manuscript to-day, I think the reader stands in the wrong light to the public. It is my firm belief that no manuscript of true merit will ever miss the eye of the manuscript reader. " Friendship has nothing to do with the acceptance of a manuscript, though, to be sure, it may be influential in obtaining a quicker reading and a more ready answer. It should be remembered that no one in the literary world is more anxious to discover a new star than the reader for a publishing house ; and, known or unknown, the author who has a story to tell, and tells it well, will attract his attention. "The great idea clumsily expressed has, in my opinion, not so good a chance of being accepted as has a conven- tional thought from the pen of one trained to the technique of novel writing, and a master of style. Careful treatment will attract the attention of the pro- 42 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. fessional manuscript reader at once, for he appreciates good workmanship for its own sake without regard to the subject on which it has been expended. "Half the battle is won by the young writer who has a thorough knowledge of the language in which he writes and of the technical part of his art ; his ideas will lose none of their freshness or originality through being treated with infinite care. To rely upon originality of thought as a valid excuse for poor workmanship, is to proceed on the supposition that a positive plus a negative make two positives." One of the youngest literary editors in America is Edward S. van Zile, editor of the "Literary Budget" of New York. He is the author of "Don Miguel," "Wanted — a Sensation," and many other clever tales, which have found an interesting nook in the majority of libraries and households all over the country. " I published four books before I was twenty-nine years of age," he says ; " and I personally regret that this is the fact, as I have become convinced that it is better for anybody who has the literary bee buzzing in his bonnet to wait until the bee has captured enough honey to make it as near a model as possible before rushing into print. My advice would be to remember the words of Horace, who became disgusted because the learned and unlearned GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 43 wrote, and because the cacoethes scribendi was so preva- lent in Rome. He counseled writers to keep any manu- scripts that they might produce in their desks for nine years. This is an exaggerated way of putting a truth, valuable to all writers of fiction. " Once in a while a novelist or writer of short stories may take advantage of a certain phase of opinion that prevails at the moment, and make a hit where, nine years later, such an effort would be impossible. For instance, ' Uncle Tom's Cabin,' which is not a classic, received its popularity because it was the outcome of the moment. " In regard to the future of American literature, to my mind the illustration is very pertinent that compares our yachts with the merchant marines and navies of the old world. The English novelists have always and will probably in the future produce better long stories than we do, just as their naval vessels and merchant marine are superior to ours. Our yachts are better than theirs. So in literature as on the high seas the same parallel exists, and our short stories are better than theirs. Probably the reason for our superiority in short-story writing is due in great part to our habits. "In our large cities there is more of the French mode of living than English. New York adopts more Parisian customs than it does English. Our well-known authors and story writers are making a study of Daudet, Guy 44 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. de Maupassant, Belot, and other French writers, and are stamping their methods accordingly." Harriet H. Robinson, an author of considerable talent, whose books are deeply interesting and nobly written, says : — " If you have anything to say, any message that you think the world needs, any word that will make the peo- ple wiser and better for your saying it, by all means keep on writing. But do not therefore fancy that you are 'inspired.' Inspiration is a divine thing, and falls only on the few, and even if you think you have a little of it, remember that it will not prepare your manuscript for the printer. To do this you must read good books for style, and study the subjects on which you wish to write. In these days something is required besides ideas or even thoughts. They must be well expressed and put in good shape ; the technique must be looked to, and the English in which you write must be particularly cared for. When your book is written as well as you can write it, try to get a good publisher. It is a good thing to have a certain firm indorse your book, but remember that, after all, publishers are but for a day, while a good book is for all time. Finally, if you do not succeed in getting a publisher, publish your book yourself, and cheerfully take the consequences." GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 45 Julia A. Sabine, whose well-ripened imagination, fin- ished workmanship, and vivid character-portraits mark her out as a story writer of a high order, says of herself : — " I doubt if any woman ever tried authorship who was so completely ignorant of the ways of authors as myself. I knew manuscript for the press should be written on one side only of the sheet • that it would be wisdom not to tie the manuscript with blue ribbon ; and that small sheets, sent without folding, were the correct thing. So much for the mechanical part. " If I had every thing to learn, I had nothing to un- learn. My first lesson came when my first story was returned as 'unavailable.' It was an awkward, ungainly- looking manuscript, betraying the tyro in every detail. I tried again ; my story was promptly i accepted.' So I have gone on to broader, and, as I believe, better fields. " Early in my writing there fell into my hands a letter of advice to young and inexperienced writers, from the pen of a very successful author. She enjoined upon beginners to publish at all events, — for payment, if pos- sible ; but, ' money or no money,' to get into print. She said publishing was an education ; that until one has become used to the printed article, it is impossible to excel in composition; that until one has acquired a name and reputation, it is impossible to sell one's work. 46 TO WRITE OR NOT TO WRITE. "I followed her advice, which I have not found alto- gether satisfactory from a commercial view ; for I believe editors are human, and do not always respond with the coveted check. " With the advent of the type-writer a copy from the machine answers the purpose of print. Get your article type-written and study your work carefully. You will see your mistakes and errors of style and matter. Every thing lies with yourself." Lucy Stone Blackwell needs no introduction to the lovers of what is forceful and energetic in literature. She is more a propagandist than writer of books ; and yet, perhaps, her work has been of equal and even larger worth. As a charming platform speaker and journalist, the constant advocate of the worth of woman and her right to a broader recognition, she is as widely known as any other. Her insight into human nature, her deep and perennial-like sympathy, her outspoken and fearless stand always for what is best and sweetest in life, make these few characteristic words of hers especially worthy of attention. Cannot one almost read between the lines ? " I regard as the first essential to valuable authorship that one should have something to say that is worth say- ing, and, having said it, to stop." GENERAL SUGGESTIONS. 47 Louise Imogen Guiney, poet and author, whose work is marked by an extraordinary refinement and finish, in speaking of her own work, said : — " The wisdom I have so far accumulated is by no means sufficient for my proper needs. I am, moreover, too much of a skeptic regarding 'would-be authors' to think that any advice will much help genuine talent ; the true writer learns to write, perhaps, as young creatures learn to swim, by falling in and having nobody by for rescue. Not a single theory do I possess on the subject, save Ruskin's deep maxim, that