The leader. [volume] (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1895-1905, 1897-10-20
PERILS OF AUTHORSHIP.


NEILDRED'S pretty face wore a new
M expression as she toyed with her
teaspoon and tried to finish her roll
and coffee. John had just left for his
Office They had been married three
z1onths and the serious aspects of life
we're tor the first time presenting them
selves.
Il wish | could do something to help
John" thought Mildred, as she gazed
abstractedIy out of the window. 'He
has to work so hard" and she gave lit
tic sigh.
what can l do?" she pondered
"What can | do?" she asked herself
again and again. as with deft touch she
slaughtered and arranged the dainty
apartment.
Suddenly her face looked as if door
had opened and flooded it with sun
light
Il know what ! will do; | will write
a story. | know can if try. People
do rot have to be so awfully clever to
do that. II is a knack, not a talent.
There is Mrs. , who has made
heaps of money; and her stories are only
poor trash-all of them. John says So"
Before another hour had passed the
outline Of a plot was dancing in her
excited young brain, and as soon as
she could get the time she sat down
with pad and sharpened pencil. Then
came pause. How shall bcgin?"
She drew little geometric figures on
the margin of her paper as she reflected,
her thoughts seeming to revolve in a
circle, returning ever to the place from
whence they started. Finally she
wrote:
"ln small village on the banks Of"
"OA, that is so commonplace. No;
that will not do" And she tore off the
first sheet of her pad and reflected
again, then wrote:
Frank Atwood was the only son of
NO, no; that is too stupid" and the
second sheet of the pad went into the
WaSte-paper basket.
She recalled what John had said of
the superiluous first three pages, which
might with benefit to most stories be
ellmlnated-for John was a journalist
and literary critic, and his standards
and ideals were just on the measure of
her own. So she thought with great
difference of what he had said about
tedious preamblcs.
HE is right" she said, with decision.
1T IS the personal interest in the char
actcrS which VIC are looking for in read
ing story. All that comes before that
Is tedious superfuity.
i viii dash right on with letter
rom the heroine, which will at once
explain the situation" So with the con-
ndence which came from feeling herself
at last on the right track, she wrote:
Dear Frank-I return herewith the let
ters' which of course l have now no right
oketp, need not tell you what 1t cost me
/ nave reflected much upon what you
sad yesterday, but | am at last resolved
Will not see you again. Any attempt tc
MAKE me break this resolve will be fruit
!eSS' God knows you have only yourself
10 oIame that this marriage has"
Please, ma'am," said the cook, com
ing suddenly in upon the young author
eSS' Please, ma'am, the butcher is
mere. viii You come and see him and
give the order yourself about havin'
them chops frenched or whatever it is. u
oh, what bore!" sighed Mildred
i was just getting into the swing OF
H. And she left the manuscript upon
her desk to be resumed later.
The matter of the chops disposed of,
.here We're other things requiring at
tention.
al last, however, she was at her desk
dgalh' She read over the letter with
winch her story opened to see how ii
sounded. Really" said she, Il think
'hat starts off very WE'LL" and then she
ooh up the broken thread. "Only your
SeiI 10 blame that this marriage has"
a violent ringing at the telephone again
broke the current. HALO" said our
young novelist.
Mildred, is that you?'
Yes is it you, Alice?"
Yes. Mamma does not feel very well
aho wishes you to take luncheon with
TX She has sent the carriage. BE
ready 10 come as soon as it arrives" OBJ
'iously no more authorship to-day. So
ssnpping her paper into the desk she
Departed.
Inc new purpose Of authorship
brought a great light and hope into
= life. She pictured to herself
LIS reading her story, possibly review
iug II. After he has written all kinds
VI nice things about it l will tell him
mat | am the author;" or-and her
Heart turned cold apd sick-what if he
snould say it was trash? For, of course,
IKE other good critics, John was sell
uom pleased. If things were all excel
rent what would be the need of critics
90 ne had cultivated the art of discover
ing naws in what seemed to ordinary
leaders pure gems. He had developer
i"'ner talent for pillorying people in
single terse phrase. and was much
,ai1ed for his sk.ll In beating down
n''a The editorial club tender young