Others have more general application. Some of these are : The subject has been covered before. Not in accordance with our policies and aims. I would expect to find in every editorial office some data as to the reasons for the re turn of manuscripts. Each editor could tabulate the most frequent causes for rejection of unsolicited contributions. Having a printed list of these reasons, it is an easy matter for the reader to indicate the one best suited to the paper in hand. On the return Islip which I now have before me, there is a red check mark against the line, "The sub ject is out of our field." That is the very point on which I felt most doubt when I submitted the article; yet at the time I counted on a fair probability of the contribution coming within the scope of the publication. Now that doubt is cleared away. On the reverse side of this slip there are instructions about the submission of manuscripts, and the handling of drawings and photographs. I am confident that a more general use of this type of rejection slip would have the effect of lessening the total number of rejections. Gilbert P. Chase. BOONTON, N. J. ADVISING BUDDING AUTHORS. I. It is something that happens to every man, woman, and child who writes; whether we have five successful novels and twenty-five unproduced plays to our credit, or have just broken into print for the first time in our home-town newspaper with a sonnet on Death. 66 There waits upon us, with an expectant air, that awful person who has just written his but it's usually her maiden lines. We are lucky if it is only a poem ; a little less lucky if it is a sketchy idea that would make a peach of a movie." Fate is against us when it is a short story imitating the Russians and constructed according to the rules inspired by the fiction-writers' class at Columbia University; but hope flies out of the window when it is a realistic novel of some two thousand ink-bespattered pages, or a blank-verse tragedy in five long acts! You are always cornered in some unexpected way-maybe trapped when you accept an invitation to dinner or the theatre, or by the reminder of a past favor; but no matter what the excuse, the budding author (I use the word advisedly) shows no mercy, no tact, no breeding, no moral scruples of any sort. He is like the royal executioner awaiting his victim-cool, dispassionate, business-like, determined. Oh, yes, there may seem to be a slight hesitancy, a timid air of self-reproach; but do not be deceived: it is a false modesty. The well remembered words invariably are: "I have just finished writing this story. Won't you read it and tell me honestly what you think? Your stuff* seems to sell. I don't. see why I can't sell stuff, too. Of course, it's the very first thing I've ever written." And you always reply: "It is truly wonderful. If only I could write like this! You have genius great genius. How I envy you! I'm sure it will sell; but try it on the editors." II. The tormenting question is: Have you done right in lying thus glibly and thrusting another now normal chap on the uncertain paths of authorship? For it is a lie - a deliberate falsehood. You don't believe for one instant that he possesses the genius you do. He can't write. He'll never be able to write. He does n't know the first trick of the game. Why, he's never even taken an editor to lunch, so what does he know about making short stories? - Far, far better would it be to tell the truth, and say "My dear fellow, your scribblings have n't a chance in the world. This is rotutter rot! Tear it to bits and throw it into your waste-paper basket. Write no more save letters and checks. Back to your counter, ten hours of honest labor and three square meals a day. Leave the lucrative sport of writing to authors like me, who have real genius and know the art of dodging bill collectors. The field is overcrowded as it is with James Branch Cabell, Joseph Hergesheimer, Booth Tarkington, Theodore Dreiser, and the rest of us, still alive!" And yet suppose that you did say this, and thus at the very outset should take all hope from a pen that might develop at some fardistant day into one of the world's greatest? Hergesheimer, you may know, struggled for fourteen years before he had an acceptance. Many a tale have you heard of the repeated rejections of now famous novels and plays. And there is always the case of Chatterton as a sad reminder. So what shall we say? III. With me, at the present moment, the plight is a personal one. Yesterday the wife of my grocer stopped me on the street. She is a healthy, robust woman, with a substantial waist-line; a sincere, capable, excellent wife and mother. Her home is a model of neatness and virtue. Her children are well behaved. Her husband is happy. "You get your stuff published," she said, "I don't see why I can't get mine published, too. Here's a novel I've just written: It's an the husband allegory how Selfishness -- tried to ruin a happy home until True Love the wife supported by Faith, Hope, and Charity the children- proved to him the evilness of his ways and he reformed and repented and became Nature's True Nobleman. It's an awfully pretty idea, don't you think? But won't you read it and tell me honestly your opinion? Of course, it's the very first thing I've ever written." I murmured something in reply that neither she nor I understood. "If this is published," she went on, "I'm going to devote my life to writing. The children are old enough now not to need my care. And John can spend his evenings at the Y. M. C. A. I shall give up everything. I shall do nothing but write!" Her face was wreathed with hope, and aglow with a great purpose. "It's a long, hard grind," I said. She faced me with scorn. "Yes. But look at Mrs. Wharton, Mrs. Cather, Mrs. Rinehart, Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, George Eliot, and George Sand! If they can do it, I can! And what's more -my stories are original, true to life. Everything I write about is something that has really happened. Now that story there I glanced at the title "The Triumph of Unselfishness over Life and Death." "You'll read it, won't you?" she went on. "Yes," I replied. "I'll read it!" And I did. IV. If I tell that woman the truth, she will be offended. I shall lose a very valuable friend. She'll speak to her husband about me, and I won't be able to say "Charge it!" any more. Yet if I lie, she will do as she threatens, neglect her home, her children, her husband,. become a disorderly housewife. She'll tell her husband that I encouraged her to go on. He'll hate me for it, and I won't be able to say Charge it!" any more. Now what am I to do? What would you do? 66 THE WRITER is published the first of every month. It will be sent, postpaid, for $1.50 a year. The price of Canadian and foreign subscriptions is $1.62, including postage. .. All drafts and money orders should be made payable to the Writer Publishing Co. THE WRITER will be sent only to those who have paid for it in advance. Accounts cannot be opened for subscriptions, and names will not be entered on the list unless the subscription order is accompanied by a remittance. The American News Company, of New York, and the New England News Company, of Boston, and their branches are wholesale agents for THE WRITER. It may be ordered from any newsdealer or direct from the publishers. The rate for advertising in THE WRITER is two dollars an inch for each insertion, with no discount for either time or space; remittance required with the order. For special position, if available, twenty per cent. advance is charged. No advertisement of less than one-half inch will be accepted. .. Contributions not used will be returned, if a stamped and addressed envelope is enclosed. .. The publication office of THE WRITER is Room 52-A, 244 Washington street, but all communications should be addressed : THE WRITER PUBLISHING CO., would often be insufficient, and in many cases it might be misleading. The truth is that it is frequently impossible for an editor to explain to himself, much less to the contributor, just why he rejects a manuscript. It is often as hard for an editor to tell why he likes or dislikes a manuscript submitted to him as it would be for a man to tell why he thinks a woman he meets is beautiful or not. Neither of the two has any doubt in the matter, but either would find it hard to give his reasons. In such cases, the ordinary rejection blank, saying that the editor regrets that he does n't find the manuscript exactly suited to his use, gives all the information possible. Of course, if a manuscript is too long, or out of the line of the publication, or illiterate, or uninteresting, that could be indicated by the editor by a check mark on a printed blank, but most editors would hesitate to tell the writer that his manuscript was illiterate, or even that it was lacking in interest. Again, if an editor should say to writers, by means of checks or otherwise: "Your story is uneven in structure, weak in plot, lacks a climax, is a narrative rather than a story," some writers would very likely say to themselves : "Oh, his checking is just automatic, and at best expresses only his personal opinion. He does n't know what he is talking about." No editor wants to hurt a writer's feelings. The main reason, however, why the old-style rejection blank is likely to remain in vogue is that in a great many cases the editor cannot tell the contributor just why he rejects the manuscript. He knows perfectly well that he does n't want it, but it would be hard for him to give the reason, any more than he could tell just why he likes or does n't like the taste of olives. tion of something good over his signature may give. What reason the new editor of Life has for suppressing the signatures of his contributors and leaving readers to guess whether O. H. means O. Herford and who A. G. or J. K. M. may be, is not obvious, but from the point of view of writers generally it cannot be a good one. Life, as well as the contributors to Life, will benefit if the editor returns to the established practice and prints signatures in full, for any publication that increases the reputation of its writers by so doing helps increase its own reputation, since readers favor any publication that prints contributions from writers whom they remember as the authors of good work. Writers should realize that while editors have a prejudice against rolled manuscripts because after a manuscript has been rolled the sheets curl so that it is hard to hold while it is being read they have no prejudice at all against folded manuscripts, with which there is no such difficulty. Inexperienced writers seem to think that it is necessary to send all manuscripts flat, and editors not infrequently receive a short manuscript of only one or two pages mailed flat in an enormous envelope. It would be much better to fold such a manuscript so that it would go in a No. 10 envelope, as the editor must fold it in returning the manuscript unless a large envelope was enclosed, since editors as a rule do not have on hand envelopes large enough to take a sheet of letter paper flat. [There is no universal style of spelling or punctuation. Every publication has its own individual style, which is followed by the printers who get it out, and one printinghouse may turn out a dozen different publications with a dozen different styles and none of them exactly like the style of the printinghouse itself. There are, however, certain rules of punctuation which are generally accepted, and writers should punctuate in accordance with these rules, as they are given in the handbooks of punctuation. Minor differences of style are not important, and a manuscript punctuated according to the general rules will be handled according to the style of the publication in which it is to be printed.] I have some song poems that I want published. Can you give me some advice as to how to proceed? 66 L. M. A. [ Do not have any dealings with any of the persons who advertise under such headings as Song Poems Wanted" or "Why Not Write a Popular Song?" They are schemers whose object is to get unsophisticated persons to pay them an exorbitant sum for setting verses to music and printing a few copies in cheap sheet-music form, and their interest in the matter ends when they have pocketed the large profit on this transaction. Sometimes they send the author of the verses a few cents as royalty on alleged sales, but he will not get any other return from his expenditure. Their guaranty of publication means simply that they will have a few copies of the song in question printed, often under the imprint of some Music Company which is the same concern under another name. Technically, they may do everything they promise, but they actually promise very much less than their victims think they do and their statements are misleading. No one of these concerns undertakes to show a popular hit among all the songs it has published at the expense of unwise writers. Their aim is to get all they can, at the same time keeping just within the law. Whether they are violating the law or not is a question which it is to be hoped the postoffice department inspectors will settle by court action. Do not pay anybody for having your songs published. If a song cannot be sold to one of the old-line music publishing concerns, that I will have it set to music and bring it out at its own expense, there is no market for it, excepting possibly as a. contribution to some magazine. The addresses of responsible music publishing houses may be obtained from any music dealer.] LITERARY SHOP TALK. [This department is open to readers of THE WRITER for the relation of interesting experiences in writing or in dealing with editors, and for the free discussion of any topic connected with literary work. Contributors are requested to be brief.] Alfred Ollivant, who has just seen the motion picture version of " Boy Woodburn," his famous story of a racing horse, believes that the film industry will not produce pictures of highest artistic merit until authors coöperate in preparing their own scenarios. "In my view," he says, "stories by living novelists can never be perfectly expressed on the film until the man who created the story, the characters, the atmosphere, is commissioned by the producing company to write what I may call the basic scenario. The ordinary novelist has not, I admit, the expert knowledge to write a technically perfect scenario ; but he could and should write a basic scenario. When the producing company calls in the author to help in this matter, then we shall get films of an artistic and literary merit undreamed of heretofore. "I think that any novelist who is well off enough to be able to refuse any offer which does not suit him should refuse to sell the film rights of any novel of his, except on the condition that he write the scenario upon which the film is to be built." Booth Tarkington is one of the writers who believe that the story-teller should first visualize his characters and then let the plot of the story develop from their relations to one another. "Don't worry about plot, or your alleged 'lack of inventiveness,'" he says. [This information as to the present special needs of various periodicals comes directly from the editors. Particulars as to conditions of prize offers should be sought from those offering the prizes. For full addresses of periodicals mentioned, see "The Writer's Directory of Periodicals."] The Periodical Press of Canada, Limited, 80 Nelson street, Toronto, will shortly issue a Canadian magazine of the highest class, known so far only as the New Magazine. The publishers intend to buy nothing but the best work by the best authors and illustrators, and they expect to pay a price commensurate with the quality of the work. Preference will be given to stories by Canadian authors, residing either in Canada or any other part of the world, and to stories with Canadian settings, but good stories of any kind will not be barred. Feature articles will treat largely of the achievements and personalities of Canadians, and most of them will be written by special assignment, but the publishers will be glad to examine any that are worth while. Stories must be of sterling character, with beauty of writing, excellence of plots, sustaining interest of action, and human qualities of the characters. Stories may run from 3,000 to 6,000 words, while serials may contain 90,000 words. The publishers will pay $150 each for short stories and a proportionate rate for serials. |