The Worcester spy. [volume] (Worcester, Mass.) 1898-1904, 1899-11-24
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER -, 1899.
STARVING FOR FAME.

The most tragic death that has been
read in the papers for many a day was
that of the suicide of Mrs Eveline Ad-
ans, the misguided woman who starved
to death in New York because she had
the delusion that she was a genius, and
was going to leave a deathless message
to the world by writing books.
The Philadelphia Press deals with her
case rather sharply in saying that star
walton is a dreadful alternative, but
that this woman's death was brought
upon her by her own vanity and igno-
rance. The nation that unappreciated
literary geniuses are going around ema
ciated and in rags, is an out-worn ira
dition of, by-gone day. The condi-
tons have been so changed by newspa-
pers that no competent writer need
starve. If this Mrs Adams had known
how to write and what to write, she
had materials for good newspaper ar
ticles in her struggles to earn living
experience as a lecturer or concert goer.
Now that her death has made known
her story, the men and women trained
to write, use this material for innumer-
able news articles and editorials.
Her vanity had persuaded her that
she was fitted for work for which she
had not the first qualification, that of
knowing what people want to read. If
she had been content to get into some
form of domestic service, she might
good pay Domestic service is crying
out for women whose heads have been
trained to do thinking, and although
this woman might have found many
disagreeable experiences, the worst of
them would not have had the bitter
ness of pawning her husbands souve-
Mrs, and then going hungry. Besides,
if she really had any capacity for writ
ing, her experiences with overbearing
and unappreciative mistresses would
have made superb copy" The Press
aptly remarks:
THE world is just as full as it ever was
of people who imagine that they possess
rare CdpdCllleS WHICH In6lF fellows ldl "
appreciate. That is condition of human
vanity which the race will be long over
coming. Most of these people imagine
that their gifts are of such transcendent
value that they ought to be excused from
learning the plain, mechanical, stupid
dead grind which is necessary in litera-
ture or any of the arts. If they write
they expect some editor to doctor the
lame feet and help out the hating rhythms
of their 'postry' because it is so full of
inspiration. They think it a matter of
course that the sentences of their prose
rhapsodies should be made to parse and
the whole be punctuated, Photographed and
capitalized. Worst of all, they imagine
that the meanderings of their feelings
about nothing at all are important. Now,
the editor used to meander himself before
| he learned better. He spent his appren-
ticeship learning the small, dull details of
grammar and punctuation, and he has no
patience with people who expect to be
paid for writing who neglect those i'm
portant matters. Most of the unappre-
| ciated geniuses in the writing business are
of that class. The rest are made up of
people who have mastered the mechani-
cal side of the art, but haven't anything
TO say.
That is not to say that writing is not
fearfully oVercrowded 1t is like the
production of all luxuries. The magazines
are oVerstocked with work which is quite
good enough to print, and their editors
spend much time hunting for names which
will sell their copies, without regard to
the quality of the work to which those
names are appended. The newspaper Of
noes in large cities are oVerrun with COM
petent men looking for work as reporters.
But those competent reporters know how
to turn up special stories which will keep
them afioat until they find a vacancy
some where. They sometimes get behind
with their board, pawn their watches and
wear light oVercoats in January. But
they do not starve. They know that
there are newspapers in small towns.
where the work is hard and the pay small.
but which afford refuge from hunger"