LITMIR.BIZ

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demand less constructive skill; many aspirants can put together a passable paragraph who would fail miserably with an article. Further, they have a better chance of acceptance, cæteris paribus, for the reason that editors find them easier to handle. Often an editor declines an article which he likes, simply because he knows that to use it would involve the re-modelling of an entire issue; a paragraph is more amenable. Lastly, paragraphs are paid for, and just as much as articles they may afford one the encouraging satisfaction of seeing her stuff in print. The beginner, therefore, will do well to begin with paragraph work; articles may follow at a later stage.

      * * *

      Your paragraph or article having been composed, there arises the question of the proper way to copy and dispatch it:--

      1 In the majority of instances it is unnecessary to typewrite. Typewriting is somewhat expensive and often inaccurate, and unless you happen to possess your own typewriter, there is no reason why caligraphy should not suffice for your needs. (A few editors, however, insist that all copy submitted shall be typewritten.) Use quarto paper--that is, the size of a sheet of note-paper opened--and only one side of it. Write very plainly, not too small, leaving a wide margin at the left hand, and a good space between the words and between the lines.

      2 Fasten the sheets together at the top left hand corner with a paper fastener, the pointed ends of the fastener being at the top. Do not pin the sheets; do not stitch them; whatever else you do, refrain from stitching them all the way down the left hand side, as this process makes it irritatingly difficult to turn them over.

      3 Write your name and address not only at the top of the manuscript itself, but also on the back, so that they may be prominent when the manuscript is folded up. Write boldly on the first page the exact length of the article in words.

      4 Enclose a stamped and addressed envelope--not a book-post wrapper; manuscripts which see much of the world (and your earlier manuscripts will probably see a very great deal of the world) become damaged and ruinous by travelling in a book-post wrapper. Be sure that the envelope is sufficiently stamped, and be sure also that it is large enough to hold the manuscript.

      5 Never send out a dirty or ragged manuscript. The editor is prejudiced by the first sight of such a manuscript, for he knows at once that it has been refused elsewhere.

      * * *

      Her manuscript decently dispatched, the aspirant will feel happy and well satisfied till shortly before the earliest hour possible for its return. Then begins suspense. She will sit awaiting with counterfeit calm the postman. She hears his tread on the pavement outside; he mounts the steps, knocks; there is the gentle concussion of a packet against the bottom of the letter-box. Is it the article returned? She still keeps hope. Even when one day the large envelope, addressed in her own writing, is put into her hands, she says to herself that the editor has only returned it for a few trifling modifications....

      Invariably the thing does come back, sooner or later, with some curt circular of refusal. Moodiness and discouragement follow. But it is as wise to be annoyed by editors as to quarrel with the weather. Idle depression must instantly give place to renewed activity. The journalistic instinct, says Noble Simms in When a Man's Single, "includes a determination not to be beaten as well as an aptitude for selecting the proper subjects."

      If at first you fail--as will certainly be the case; you may sell nothing whatever for twelve months--be quite sure that it is not--

      Because there is a conspiracy among editors to suppress talented beginners.

      Or because the market is overcrowded.

      Or because your manuscripts have not been carefully read.

      Or because editors do not know their business.

      Try to convince yourself that the true reason is--

      Because your stuff has not yet reached the (low) level of merely technical accomplishment which the average editor exacts.

      Or because your topics are devoid of interest for any numerous body of persons.

      Or because you persist in sending your articles to the wrong papers.

      The first defect ought to be remedied speedily. The second is more difficult to deal with, and the third is most difficult. The eradication of these two will necessitate careful and continuous study of journalism in all its manifestations, and nothing but successive defeats will teach you how to be victorious. However, perseverance granted, the hour will come when an article of yours finds its way to the composing room. A day of ecstasy, upon which every disappointment is forgotten and the way forward seems straight and facile!

      As soon as you can rely upon selling one article out of four, count it that you are progressing.

      * * *

      As to remuneration, a few papers send out cheques at regular intervals without putting their contributors to any trouble in the matter. Others, and among them some of the best, never pay till a demand is made. Some, including one or two organs of note, never pay till they are compelled to do so. If a remittance is not received during the month following publication, it is advisable to deliver an account, giving the date of appearance, exact title, and number of pages, columns, or inches.

      2. This brilliant novel should be seriously studied by every young journalist. It contains more useful advice to the outside contributor than all the manuals of journalism ever written.

      Chapter VII

       The Search for Copy

       Table of Contents

      There comes a time when the aspirant, proudly conscious of a certain technical skill in composition and construction, and disheartened by repeated failures, exclaims with petulance: "What shall I write about?" She dolefully imagines that the list of feasible subjects is exhausted; her wearied brain refuses any longer to carry on its sterile activities, and despair settles down upon her. This is because her eyes have not been opened to the limitless possibilities for the making of good "copy" which exist on every side. Most probably she has been looking in quite the wrong direction.

      When Rob Angus, in When a Man's Single, remarks to Rorrison, "And yet I had thirty articles rejected before the 'Minotaur' accepted that one," Rorrison's reply is, "Yes, and you will have another thirty rejected if they are of the same kind. You beginners seem able to write nothing but your views on politics, and your reflections on art, and your theories on life, which you sometimes even think original. Editors won't have that, because their readers don't want it. Every paper has its regular staff of leader-writers, and what is wanted from the outsider is freshness. An editor tosses aside your column and a half about evolution, but is glad to have a paragraph saying that you saw Herbert Spencer the day before yesterday gazing solemnly for ten minutes in a milliner's window. Fleet Street at this moment is simply running with men who want to air their views about things in general."

      With slight modification the satire applies admirably to women. Perhaps women are not so anxious as men to air their views about things in general (though they are tolerably anxious), but they are certainly too prone to write down vaguely their vague fancies about things in general. Fleet Street at this moment (to use Rorrison's expressive phrase) is simply running with women who are writing fanciful essays and not selling them because editors don't want fanciful essays--or indeed any sort of essays.

      Let us see this fact clear: editors have little use for essays and they have no use for views (except their own). To gain acceptance essays must be extremely well done, and emphatically they are not stuff for beginners to tackle. Apparently the easiest form of composition in the world, the essay is in truth one of the most difficult. Not much experience is needed to prove this. Yet every woman who aspires to journalism must needs employ her clumsy pen upon essays. "From my Window" is a favourite title with the rank beginner. Charles Lamb might conceivably have written an essay called "From my Window" which would have been a masterpiece--and there is a remote chance that some editor might have accepted it. But then Charles Lamb is dead, and his secret died

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