Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1889-10-26
POI BOILERS.
Authors are CornprlIed to Write the
Kind of StopSss That VIII Sell
nln,.nr. a ~ ~, nxtAerinncnd writer

Authors Arc Conp+lIed to Write the
Kind of storss. That VIII Sell.
A clever and ln experienced writer
in The Fortni9htly Reyiew thus NOR
allies on the tr.llc Of author
Cyliicisms Ali, no; respondent reali-
zati0n of economic law These are the
conditions under Which alone the au
thor by trade necessarily lives. But
do You think he likes them: Incredi-
BILE! Impossible! For the author, too,
has had his dag Of illusion, you may
be sure There wars once a time, long,
long ago. when he thought he might
say what lay nearest his own heart,
might speak out to the world for good
or for evil, the truth that was in him.
Never mind whether tue truth was
worth speaking or not; to hlnl at least
it YVES all important Hard experience
alone has Knocked al that out of him.
And to the end. Tor the most part, he
kicks against the pricks He hates the
sordid squalid necessity for earning
his bread bg lowering himself to the
tastes Of the public he must needs
serve with its daily literature Slowly
and painfully he learns to take his
place beside the maker of hats and the
importer Of latest Paris fashions as a
unit in trade that lives by pleasing.
Perhaps pot boiling is his true func-
ton in life, but he at any rate must
have other ideals and other interests.
For the author has usually aims and
aspirations and theories of his own.
The very ability which enables him tc
spin words into pretty phrases that
take the editorial mind by their
freshness, implies as rule tastes,
feelings and sympathies above the
common. If he could, he would
gladly say what he has deepest and
most earnest within him. He would
give the people Of his best. But when
he tries it on, the people too ofteai
turn it over listlessly at the railway
book stalls, and say with a yawn, We
prefer his shilling shockers, thank
you And most of us have tried it
on, every now and again. We have
listened, as advised, to the intuitions
of our inspired genius. The publish
ers, to be sure, looked askance at our
work. they shook their capitalist
heads ominously. Never mind; we
have few hundreds of our own LAID
by-tho spoils of the Philistines from
those shockers aforesaid; let us pub
lish at our own risk and expense.
Sheath, wen print it. Alas, alas,
how flat that work fell, in which we
tried to elevate the taste or improve
the morals or intellect of the public
The public chose rather to keep its
taste and morals at its own dull level.
A loss or two of this sort soon
taught us wisdom We accepted our
true place in the world We boiled
the pot, if not cheerfully, yet resign
eddy. We began to feel the pulse OF
the market Most of us never quite
succeed in catching it, to be sure; that
pulse is SO capricious-or we ourselves
have such incentive finger ends-that
we fail exactly to synchronize some
how with it's erratic movements. But
we get near enough to make both ends
meet approximately. That modest
result amply suffices for the average
ruck of hard worked but eminently
| humble and contented profession.
The fact is, as the world is consti-
tuted, to say out in full what you ac
tually think about anything is fatal.
You must write always with one eye
askew upon 10000 foolish popular pre-
i,,dicac