The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1910-11-11


scientious personal letter with each r.
jected manuscript, pointing out ln g..
tails his reasons for considering ui.
available Editor WestbrOuS had i.-
own clear conception of what cons,
tuted good fiction; 50 had Dave. N'r-
Dave was mainly concerned about tra
constituents of the scanty dishes a.;
food that she managed to scrapp tu
gethcr. One day Dave had b''n
spouting to her about the excellcn ir,
of certain French writer's. At dnurf
they sat down to a dish that hun"r.
schoolboy could have encompasscd NJ
a gulp. Dave commented.
Its Maupassant hash" said Mrs
Dave. at may not be art. but ! do
wish you would do "A FIVE course Mar
ion Crawford serial with an Ella
Wheeler Wilcox sonnet for dessert
I'm hungry"
As far as this from success was
Shackleford Dave when he pluck,d
Editor Westbrook's sleeve in Madison
editor had seen Dave in several
months.
"Why, Shack. is this your said
Westbrook, somewhat awkwardly. for
the form of his phrase seemed to touch
upon the others changed appearance.
'Slt down for minute" said Dave,
tugging at his sleeve. This is my
Office. 1 can't come to yours looking
as do. Oh, sit down! You won't be
disgraced. Those half plucked birds
on the other benches will take you for
swell porch climber. They won't
know you are only an editor"
Smoke. ShackT' said Editor West
brook. sinking cautiously upon the vir-
ulent green bench. He always yielded
gracefully when he did yield.
Dave snapped at the cigar as king
fisher darts at a sun perch or a girl
pecks at a chocolate cream.
How goes the writing?' asked the
editor.
Look at me-" said Dave, "for your
answer. Now. don't put on that EN-
barrassed, friendly, but honest look
and ask me why l don't get job as
a wine agent or cab driver. I'm in
the fight to a finish. l know l can
write good fiction. and I'll force you
fellows to admit it yet. I'll make you
change the spelling of regrets to
Check before I'm done with you"
Editor Westbrook gazed through his
nose glasses with a sweetly sorrowful,
omnlscient. sympathetic, skeptical eX
pression-the copyrighted expression
Of the editor beleaguered by the un
available contributor.
Have you read the last story sent
you, The Alarum of the SoulT" asked
Dave.
Carefully. / hesitated over that
story, Shack really 1 did. 1t had
some good points. | was writing you
letter to send with it when 1t goes
back to you. | regret
Never mind the regrets" said
Dave grimly. There's neither salve
nor sting in 'em any more. What I
want to know is why. Come, now,
out with the good points first"
"The story" said Westbrook delib
erately after suppressed sigh, lis
written around an almost original plot
characterization. the best you have
except for a few weak joints which
might be strengthened by a few
changes and touches. 1t is a good
story, except
81 can write English, can't II" inter
rupted Dave.
81 have always told you" said the
editor. that you had style"
"Then the trouble is the
Same old thing" said Editor West
brook. You work up to your climax
like an artist, and then you turn your
self into photographer. don't know
what form of obstinate madness pos
sesses you, Shack, but that is what you
do with everything that you write.
No; | will retract the comparison with
the photographer. Now and then pho
Biography, in spite of its impossible
perspective, manages to record fleet
ing glimpse of truth. But you spoil
every denouement by those fiat, drab,
obliterating strokes of your brush that
/ have so often complained of. If you
would rise to the literary pinnacle of
your dramatic scenes and paint them
in the high colors that art requires the
pOstman would leave fewer bulky, self
addressed envelopes at your door"
"Oh, fiddles and footlightsw cried
Dave derislvely. you've got that old
sawmill drama kink in your brain yet.
When the man with the black mus,
tache kidnaps golden haired Bessie you
are bound to have the mother kneel
and raise her hands in the spot light
and say, May high heaven witness
that will rest neither night nor day
till the heartess villain that has sto-
len me child feels the weight Of a
mothers vengeancep
Editor Westbrook conceded smile
of impervlous complacency.
81 think" said he, that in real life
the woman would express herself in
those words or in very similar ones"
"Not in a six hundred nights run
anywhere but on the stage" said Dave
hotly. 'I'll tell you what she'd say In
real life. Shed say: What! Bessie