"ANY persons who hope to become suc

MANY

cessful writers of the short story make the initial mistake of attempting this rather difficult and complex form of composition before they have acquired any skill in narrative writing. Regarded either as a means of training or as an end itself, the writing of the simple narrative of fact is worth the serious efforts of the amateur would-be writer of short stories.

By a simple narrative of fact we mean an account of an incident, or a series of incidents, arranged in the order of time. It includes such types as the anecdote, the tale, the story of actual adventure, the travel story, and the news story. In other words, it is a true story. From experience and observation we have all acquired a considerable store of material that is waiting to be used.

In relating a simple narrative of fact the task of the writer is much easier than it is in constructing a short story. First of all, the writer is spared the necessity of inventing a situation, characters, and incidents, for in relating a true story these are ready to hand. In the second place, he is spared the task of devising a plot, the most difficult part of short-story construction for many amateur writers. The order of arranging the incidents in the narrative of fact will be the same as that in which they occurred - that is, the order of time. The writer can devote his attention, while planning his narrative, to such matters as choosing the initial situation, deciding upon the number of stages into which he will divide the action of his narrative, and selecting out of the abundance of details

available, those that will be necessary to develop these stages. When he sets himself to write the narrative, he can concentrate his energies upon vividness of narration, naturalness of characterization, and the development of suspense as to the outcome.

The following specimen illustrates very well several points in the technique of the simple narrative of fact and reveals some of the possibilities of this type of writing.

THE PLAY'S THE THING: A LITTLE DRAMA OF SCHOOL LIFE

Sixty pairs of eager eyes rested on the face of Teacher as she told the story of Peter Pan, in which part she had just seen the beloved actress, Maude Adams, who is now but a memory to theatre-goers. When the tale was finished, the fourth-grade class of little girls sighed blissfully, their eyes dreamy with the adventures of Wendy and Peter and Tinker Bell. This was some years before the "movies" provided their weekly or semi-weekly thrills, and in every heart there was an ardent longing to see this beautiful fairy play. A voice broke their reverie; Rosie Levitsky was speaking. "Couldn't we too go see it, Teacher? I've got some money saved in my bank."

"How much would it cost?" asked Aida Morelli. "My big brother sells papers and mostly gives me a quarter on Saturdays. I could get some money off him."

Other eager little voices took up the theme and urged a trip to the theatre; but there were many those in whose eyes had been perhaps the deepest wonder and delight - who now drooped wistfully in their seats, thinfaced, hungry-looking, scantily-clothed children who were already acquainted with grinding poverty. Teacher reflected swiftly. She knew that the regular scale of prices was beyond the means of most of her little charges; but hers was a dauntless soul where they were concerned. Perhaps a reduction could be arranged if the sympathy and interest of the

great actress could be secured. She would write to Miss Adams, tell her something of the conditions, and ask that a special price of twenty-five cents might be made for the children at a Saturday matinée. She knew that many of the sixty could not pay even that, but she could canvass her friends for help; it had been done before.

Perhaps unwisely, she told the children of her plan, and they awaited in happy anticipation an answer to the letter. Teacher had moved so many seemingly immovable obstacles from their path that they in no wise doubted her success in this new undertaking.

Two days later, among the letters delivered at the fourth-grade door was one bearing the seal of the Hotel Touraine. Teacher opened it and eagerly scanned the contents. It was from Miss Adams's private secretary, and Teacher's face expressed mingled pleasure and dismay at the dilemma confronting her as she read. "You may not be aware," the note began, "that Miss Adams has been sending at her own expense a small group of children to the Friday evening performance each week, and she is very glad to send you twenty tickets for this coming Friday evening."

What was to be done? How decide who were to have the twenty tickets when all wanted to go? How make the choice? The joy of the twenty would be as nothing to the woe of the forty. These questions ran rapidly through her mind; then with her usual frankness she placed the issue squarely before the children.

"It'll be fairest to draw lots," said little Nora Sullivan. To this proposal all agreed. The names of the children having been placed in a box, Nora was chosen by popular vote to draw the allotted twenty. She drew slowly, reading names amid the breathless suspense of her audience. When the last of the twenty names was turned up without revealing her own, the child walked proudly to her seat with lips that quivered but head held high.

"Nora ought to have one of them tickets; she drawed 'em fair," said gentle little Elvera. "I'll let her have mine."

"I wouldn't take it," said Nora, quickly. An air of depression settled over the group. "Well," said Teacher, cheerfully, "we won't give up yet. We'll try again."

A note of grateful thanks was despatched in which she contrived, however, to show something of the difficulty of the choice and the small efforts at heroism that had been made.

The suspense of the next day was almost unbearable. The children did nothing but talk of Peter Pan.

"Teacher, I've got a clean hankchif all ready for Friday night," said Yetta Sokolovsky.

"How thoughtful of you, dear," murmured Teacher, much impressed by this unusual impulse toward the niceties of one's toilet.

"Yes'm, Teacher, don't you 'member you

told us that when Tinker Bell was dyin' Peter asked everbody that b'lieved in fairies to wave their hankchifs and that would save her?"

At ten o'clock next morning a red-faced messenger boy arrived at the door of the fourth-grade class with a package. Every heart there leaped up at sight of his brass buttons. Teacher took the accompanying note and scanned it hurriedly; then she smiled broadly. It was from the manager of the theatre box office and read as follows: "Miss Adams is sending tickets for all your little folk and two extra ones for you and a friend to see the Friday evening performance of Peter Pan. She sends her love to the dear little children, and hopes they will all have a good time

If, on that eventful night, the charming, gracious woman acting the part of the little boy who did not want to grow up, lifted her eyes to the second balcony, she must have seen there, framed between the red plush barrier and the brass railing above it, a row of absorbed, radiant little faces adoring her.

In this brief narrative of fact the writer proves that she can relate a series of incidents entertainingly. She wisely chose as her material an experience that has remained vividly in her memory because of the strong human quality that it possesses, and she has made it easy and entertaining for the reader to share its appeal.

She has narrated the series of incidents simply and economically. Notice how brief yet perfectly clear the beginning is. In paragraphs one and two she has answered satisfactorily five of the fundamental questions that should be answered as early as possible in every narrative. That is, she has acquainted us with the characters (Who?); she has given us the time setting (When?) and the place setting (Where?); she has made clear the opening situation (What?); and, finally, she has given us the motive (Why?) that led the persons of the narrative to try to bring about the desired situation-seeing Miss Adams in Peter Pan. The remainder of the narrative makes us better acquainted with the characters and shows us how the desired outcome was brought about. So naturally has the writer satisfied these requirements of good narrative writing that we are not conscious of their existence.

To secure singleness of appeal by economy

in narration, she related her true story in five stages: (1) arousing the desire to see the play; (2) securing the twenty tickets; (3) drawing the twenty tickets; (4) securing tickets enough for all; (5) seeing the play.

These five stages follow the chonological order and at the same time are related by cause and effect. Such relation between the stages helps the author to create suspense as to the final effect, or outcome.

PROBABLY

ROBABLY one of the most versatile writers of the day is Sarah Comstock, author of the recent books, "Speak to the Earth" and "Roads to the Revolution." Miss Comstock is primarily a novelist, but she also writes numerous articles for the leading magazines, and books on historical places which are illustrated with her own snapshots.

I met her recently at the Town Hall Club in New York City. We were in the large club living room, seated on the divan in front of the roaring fire. Presently I questioned her as to what university she had attended.

"I studied at Stanford University," she replied proudly. "While I was there, I was greatly interested in sociology and economics, although English was my major. Perhaps this was due to the fact that my teacher was the famous sociologist, Professor Edward A. Ross, who wrote "The Foundations of Sociology.' His course was an inspiration in itself. After graduating I wrote articles for the 'San Francisco Call.'"

"Do you think newspaper work is good training for the young writer?" I interrupted her to ask.

SARAH COMSTOCK.

far," she replied without hesitation. "It is more slapdash than other writing, to be sure, and therefore encourages carelessness. Naturally it has to be almost telegraphic in brevity. But I believe young writers may learn a great deal through newspaper experience. And whatever helps to show them real life, face to face, is invaluable.

"Traveling is another good way of gaining experience. In traveling you meet people of all types. It is important for the embryonic writer to observe very closely the life he sees when traveling in new places."

"I wish you'd tell me something about your first breaking into print," I begged when she paused for a moment.

"My father used to write a lot but never published much. He wrote a great deal of verse, jingles which were awfully clever, but they were too personal for publication. And I suppose I must have acquired the writing fever from him," she explained.

"When I was a youngster, I remember I dramatized Bluebeard. On another occasion, I wrote a story about two pumpkins, which I sent to the New York Observer, a paper to which my grandmother subscribed. Imagine

"It is a very good thing if not carried too

my delight when they sent me a check for five dollars.

"My mother always made me finish the stories I began when I was a small child," Miss Comstock told me, "and I'm glad she did, for I never would have accomplished anything later on without this training. You know the conception of a story is intoxicating but the finish is not so easy.

"In New York I put out a lot of little stories. Always it seemed to me they came tripping back with the comment 'slight.' Young writers have the technique before they have the substance. After a while a reaction set in; I grew so indignant at that word 'slight' that I savagely vowed, 'I will write something that isn't slight.' I went about in my mental storeroom and dug up a story about a Kansas cyclone.

"The husband in this tale," she went on, "was a scientist and the wife a fundamentalist. He thought there must be some way of stopping cyclones, whereas her only idea was to pray. I wrestled for a long time with that theme and then sent it off to Collier's.

"My cyclone story did not take the prize but contested it," she admitted very frankly. "It was a toss-up between my story and another one. Norman Hapgood was editor of Collier's at that time and Charles Belmont Davis, the fiction editor. Mr. Davis asked to have the first reading of everything I wrote after I had submitted this cyclone story. From then on, I wrote a great deal for Collier's.

"Later," she continued, "when Mark Sullivan was one of its editors, he sent me out to St. George, Utah to write a 'story about Mormons in terms of the dishpan.' At St. George, Brigham Young founded a temple and built a house for his youngest wife. I wrote this all up for Collier's in a series of articles called 'The Mormon Woman.' They also ran two series of mine called 'The Western Farmer's Wife' and 'The Western Woman Voter.''

Miss Comstock is always alive to topics of general interest. She has recently written

an interesting portrait of "Aimee Semple McPherson, Prima Donna of Revivalism,” which appeared in the December issue of Harper's Magazine. In this article, Miss Comstock describes vividly "the most perennially successful show in the United States, which this evangelist is putting on in her unique house of worship called 'Angelus Temple.'"

Miss Comstock's latest and most important novel, "Speak to the Earth," was published last year. The scene is laid in the Bad Lands of the Northwest. The story centers around Victor Trench, whom the war had left, a jobless, homeless drifter, trying to find a niche in the uncultivated wastes of the plains. Many a returned soldier who has fought to rehabilitate himself by going back to the land will read this book with genuine appreciation.

"After writing this novel," she confessed, "I laid it away for many months. By getting away from it, I got a much better perspective and could see its faults more clearly when I read it again. I overcame these faults by getting rid of a number of minor characters and small incidents which seemed to clutter up my narrative. I simply brought the story down to the man and woman about whom the tale revolved. The characters in my novels are a combination of imaginary characters and real ones," she explained.

To those who love to take photographs, Miss Comstock's pictures are an inspiration. Get a copy of her book on the American Revolution called "Roads to the Revolution," and see what excellent work she has done with her beloved camera. Her favorite pastime is seeking out just such historic scenes and buildings with her camera and then writing of these places in her own inimitable way.

Can't you imagine the fun she must have poking around in old historic places and clicking the shutter when she sees a treasure she wishes to add to her precious collection? Her collection contains also some landmarks which have now entirely disappeared and of which the pictures are, of course, extremely valuable.

When I interviewed Miss Comstock, her