The fourth printing of this Directory-which is constantly being revised and enlarged-began in THE WRITER for July, 1922. The information for it, showing the manuscript market and the manuscript requirements of the various publications listed, is gathered directly from the editors of the periodicals. Great pains are taken to make the information accurate and the Directory complete.

Before submitting manuscripts to any publication, it is advisable to secure a sample copy.

(Continued from June WRITER)

WEST COAST LUMBERMAN (S-M), 335 Henry Building, Seattle, Washington. $3.00; 20c. W. E. Crosby, editor.

Prints practical articles, written chiefly by lumbermen, with an occasional short story, or a serial, dealing with saw mills or logging, but no poetry, and no jokes. Sets length limit at 3,000 words, sometimes buys photographs, and pays from one to two cents a word.

WEST VIRGINIA REVIEW (M), Box 1374, Charleston, West Virginia. $2.00; 20c. Phil M. Conley, editor.

A state magazine of general interest, printing matter relating directly or indirectly to West Virginia. Uses general articles, short stories, and poetry. Sets length limit at 3,500 words, buys photographs of West Virginia scenery, and pays on publication.

WESTERN ADVERTISING (M), 564 Market st., San Francisco, Calif. $2.00; 25c. Ramsey Oppenheim, editor and publisher; Douglas G. McPhee, associate editor.

Devoted to successful Western selling, with special emphasis on the part played by advertising of all kinds. Uses no fiction, and no verse, but buys business articles, advertising news, and manuscripts that tell practical, definite fact stories of Western activities in the advertising and marketing fields, especially on such subjects as how Western products have been successfully given national distribution, or how a little business has been made a big one through judicious sales policies, including advertising. The first criterion of matter submitted should be its dollars-and-cents value to those who produce and seek to sell goods in the West. Buys little outside its own territory, Sets length limit at from 3,000 to 3,500 words, occasionally buys photographs to go with articles, and pays, at a minimum rate of three-quarters of a cent a word, on publication.

WESTERN FARM LIFE (S-M), 1518 Court place, Denver, Colo. $1.00 for two years; 5c. W. S. Edmiston, publisher.

Buys articles descriptive of farming methods applied with success in Colorado, New Mexico, Wyoming, Utah, and Idaho. Pays, at a minimum rate of $2.50 a column, after publication.

WESTERN GOLFER (M), 713 Baltimore ave., Kansas City, Mo. $2.00; 25c. Frank C. True, editor.

Uses general articles on golf, short stories that are humorous and of interest to golfers, humorous verses, and jokes. Overstocked at present.

WESTERN HOME MONTHLY (M), Stovel Building, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. $1.00; 10c. J. T. Mitchell, editor.

Uses short stories and serials, preferring fiction that is graphic, but not sensational, lightly and crisply written, general articles, and poetry, but no novelettes, plays or jokes. Set length limit at 6,000 words, does not buy photographs, and pays on publication.

WESTERN NEW YORK GOLFER (M), Marine Trust Building, Buffalo, N. Y. $2.00; 25c. H. Hayes Ensingner, editor.

Out of Business. Mail returned by the postoffice.

WESTERN STORY MAGAZINE (W), Street & Smith Corporation, 79 Seventh ave., New York. $6.00; 15c. F. E. Blackwell, editor.

Desires fiction which deals with the Western United States, Canada, Alaska, and Mexico. Uses short stories, novelettes, serials, poetry, humorous verse, and articles on the West, but no jokes. Sets length limit for short stories at about 6,000 words, for novelettes at about 30,000 words, and for serials at from 36,000 to 80,000 words, in instalments of about 12,000 words. Pays two cents a word and upward.

ADDITIONS AND CHANGES

FOOT PRINTS (B-M), 1501 Euclid ave., Cleveland, Ohio; editorial office 2633 Shaker road, Cleveland Heights, Ohio. $2.00; 35c. Dr. Frederick Herbert Adler, editor.

A poetry magazine, using all poetry of merit, regardless of form or subject considered. Does not pay for manuscripts, but every contributor receives one free copy of the magazine.

ILLUSTRATED HOME SEWING MAGAZINE (M, except July and August), 55 West 42nd st., New York. $1.50; 15c. Mrs. Ruth Wyeth Spears, editor.

Entirely devoted to sewing and needlework. Uses articles adapted to these subjects-articles on the various fabrics, cotton, silk, rayon, linen, etc., tracing their origin, development, and present method of manufacture, written in a simple, non-technical, illuminating style for the individual not especially interested

Volume 39

Number 7

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York, was to wage a relentless attack in which ammunition my should be ideas for articles and fiction. Especially did I want my work ordered, to reduce the element of speculation to its minimum. I was resolved to know the editors personally and be able to sit beside their desks in a welcome way, and discuss with them their needs, and advance my own concepts.

I was now too much of a philosopher, however, to attack the editors as a stranger. I would not lug bunches of manuscripts to them like a peddler of bric-a-brac, and hear them say, "Not today, please. We have all the plaster ladies we can use."

Nor would I pay obeisance to the watch-girl on the outer office mat, with a haughty "Watcher name? Have you got an appointment?"

So I had said to my partner at home, "No more of that. If I am not smart enough to make the editors send for me I'll never go to see them. Peddling strawberries will be a gay and happy

life beside peddling manuscripts in person."

We worked it out together, this crafty plot to make the editors write and say, "My dear Mr. Woolley: Won't you do me the great favor of coming up to see me on Thursday at 12 o'clock? Then we can have lunch together and talk. Very sincerely yours."

That was just what I had come to New York for. I would be ready on the instant, so when the invitations came I could run up and snare the story buyers under the mysticism of French pastry. As extra insurance against being late at these luncheon-sales, my literary and business manager changed our budget to include a telephone, cutting off the church or something. She kept jabbing the telephone manager until in selfdefense he got our instrument in.

My plan was simply to submit predigested feature and fiction ideas on paper, and to keep them going until the editors one by one succumbed and felt the warming desire to look upon my countenance. My wife and I speculated

on which editor would be the first to say to his third associate, perhaps, "Who is this egoist Woolley, who bombards us with this brilliant purple ink? By the shades of Plato, he's got some crazy ideas. I think I'll ask him to come in."

I had adopted purple typewriter ribbons for good psychological reasons. To me that color stood out best; and so far as I could ascertain, few writers used it. If all of them should adopt purple on reading this, of course the charm would be broken. Instead of imitating, invent a new color.

Anyhow, purple became my trademark-the boldest, freshest purple I could get. Once I knew an editor who would not read a manuscript done in green, and I knew that red was taboo and blue in scant favor. Any color, if faded, might cost the writer a check, true enough. I have always had to fight the typists to keep the ribbons fresh, even at the cost of an extra seventy-five cents. Most editors wear thick glasses or have cataracts before they are fifty. Therefore their psychology is easy to understand.

But purple ink was not all. I had a somewhat unusual method of displaying my ideas on the typewritten page, and I used other conceits that may or may not have helped direct attention to me. Of course all these things were merely trimmings, for the appeal itself must lie in the ideas submitted.

For quite a time I omitted fiction from my plan because special articles were tangible, and gave a real chance for ordered work. Two or three ideas at a time were enough, and they could find sufficient space, with plenty of margin and widely-separated paragraphs, on a single page of typewriter paper-never foolscap or legal size, but the writer's sort of paper, eight and a half inches by eleven, and of fine whit texture. My wife believed that ideas would draw more friendly attention when well dressedlike people.

Moreover, ideas required no return. postage, she reasoned. It was part

of

the plot to ask the editor please to keep the suggestions handy, so that when he wanted one it would be there. No particular hurry, however.

You see, we did not set up an impression in the brief accompanying letter, that we were hungry.

As for out-bound postage, this plan helped our budget a lot, because the postoffice department, with inscrutable logic, has always considered manuscripts to be first-class matter. Some of them may be, but the burden upon struggling writers is a crime of the law.

I

These purple ideas that emanated from our house in large numbers bore upon numerous subjects, from baseball to gunpowder. Since this work was merely contributory to the real effort, I reconciled myself to proposing anything decent-no muckraking or sex stuff. spent days at a time ransacking the New York Public Library, first of all, for information on what the magazines had printed during the ten years preceding. It would have been anything but shrewd to suggest a story on apple growing in old New York, for instance, if the editor had printed such a yarn last year, or if some other magazine had done it.

To be absolutely sure of myself in this respect, it was necessary to go back through the files of all the magazines and make up an index for every subject I contemplated offering. Then many of the lesser periodicals were not in the library, and when their publication offices happened to be in New York I sought their files at first hand.

I hesitate here to give even fragmentary lists of the more bizarre ideas I sent out, for they may seem silly and hopeless when denuded of the explanatory matter typed on the suggestion sheet under the capitalized idea. They did include peanuts, clothespins, tin cans, cotton cloth, horseradish, blueberries.

You laugh at peanuts, say. Perhaps you do not realize what a part these crunchy legumes have played in our national life, in agriculture, entertainment, commerce. You know nothing of the peo