The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-07-14
SOMETHING TO TELL.
BY E. F. BURNS.

To be successful as & writer one must have something to tell; and that something should be the result of either observation, studious research, or deliberate reflection. For my part, believe in the right of the individ- ual, provided he has been properly trained and uses honest judgment in the matter, to form his own style of writing, to obey no dictates but his own in grammar, to defy the so-called classics, to invent new words, to re- vive old ones, to re-introduce the ob- solete,-in a word, to obey only his own impressions, to go straight ahead, and say what he likes; but he must tell us something, and tell it so that we can get at what he is saying with out wasting valuable brain matter in trying to absorb what after all may be of no more value than an ink blot.
 fla man be a great observer, he should impart the result of his obser- vations in such way that, without going to his expense of brain, money, and time, may see what he has seen, and enjoy it equally with him. If he does not make me see what he has seen, then may refuse to believe that he has seen anything, and may brand him as an impostor. Why shouldn't IF He has taken my time, and with it my two cents, or my two dollars, or whatever it may have cost me to get what he has written.
 A writer must have something to tell. Come with me inside the near est second d-hand book store. Look at that accumulation in the corner there. Those are volumes whose histories would make you weep. They are the products of unsppreciated genius, and in their leaves are wrapped the hopes and the ambitions of as good and true workers as eveI>handled penholder. Think of the days and nights spent in writing those now worthless books of the brains, money, and time thrown away. People would not read them booksellers could not sell them. There they lie now like rubbish destined for the ash- heap.
 See the money Grants book brought. You don't find it in that big pile. Why? Because people are reading it booksellers are selling it by thous- ands every month. Grant had some- thing to tell; and so this famous mill itary chieftain, who was supposed to know as little about literature or rhetoric as he did about the secrets of the toilet, wrote a book that brought not only money but praises from all sides.
 Now, what was the trouble with those wretches who put their hearts into wonder neglected pile2 The an- swer is simple enough. The authors of those dusty books had nothing to tell, or if they had they knew not how to make people understand it. Perhaps they tried to tell love stories when they themselves had never been in love. Maybe they dealt with scenes in Siam when they had never been outside of Boston. Let us look at one of these forgotten works. It is named "The Bankers Bride" It pretends to deal with love and wealth, poverty and misery. It shows us scenes at Bar Harbor, New York, Paris. It talks of lovers, bankers, villains, de- tectives. This book was put upon the market only six months ago. You have been at Bar Harbor. Is Bar Har- bor anything like that? Did you ever see any surf at Bar Harbor? You are New Yorker. Does this chapter strike you? You have been in Paris. Do the Parisian scenes seem accurate Who wrote the book2 Why's lovely maid in Farmtown, who has not yet made her first trip to Boston.
 Take another book. It is called "The Fair Maid of Farmtown," and is written by a Bostonian who spent a week in Farmtown once, and who tries now to tell you all about its peo- pie, their habits, and their dialect. Either of those writers has style enough, and words enough. That is not the trouble; but why didn't the Farmtown maiden tell something about Farmtown? She had nothing to tell about New York or Bar Har- bor. She knew nothing about them. Why did not the Bostonian tell us something about the Hub? He knew as much of FarmJown as he does of the atmosphere of the moon.
 will not ask you to read these VOL umes through just now; but when you have time, if you ever have, look at the characters in these books. I give you my word, you will find them fieshles, bloodless, boneless-in . word, NothingA There is not . single Somebody in either book.
 "rhe air hath bubbles as the water hath.
 And these are of them"
 Now, did either the author of t'The Banker's Bride" or the author of "The Fair Maid of Farmtown" know anything about anybody? Ten to one, fhaY did hut mnnnsin1 fheY did uotl