The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1916-1920, 1919-05-11

Now of course such statement calls for the most
exact explanation Nobody can give it. Such a
statement calls for indisputable evidence. None
exists. Such statement, unexplained and unsup-
ported by testimony, is gross and unscientifc as
sumption not even worthy to be damned by being
called hypothesis. You said it. Nevertheless the
things so.
How? It's Easily Ascertained.
We, personally, having written novel-or may
be two-know what we are talking about. The I'M
mense and permanent curiosity of people all over
the planet who read books at all fixes itself upon
the question, In respect of the novelist: Hop
does he wrtef" As MARY S. WATTS remarks, that
is the one thing no novelist can tell you. He doesn't
know himself But though it is the one thing the
novelist can't tell you it is not one of those things
that, in the words of ARIEMUs WARD, no teller kin
find out. Any one can find out by writing novel.
And to write one you need little beyond few
personalities firmly in mind, g. typewriter and lots
of white paper. An outline is superAuous and
sometimes harmful. Put sheet of paper in the
machine and write the title in capital letters Be-
low, write: ''By THEoPHRAsTUs SUcH," or what
ever you happen unfortunately to be called or elect
in bad taste, to call yourself. Begin.
Art in Subcellar.
You will have the first few pages, the opening
scene, possibly the first chapter, fairly in mind;
you may have mental notes on one or two things
your people will say. Beyond that you have only
the haziest idea of what it will all be about. Write
As you write it will come to you. Somehow
What do you care howl Let the psychologists
stew over that.
They, in all probability, will figure out that the
story has already completely formed ITSELF in all
its essentials and In many details, in your sub
conscious mind, the lOwermOst cellar Of your I'M
interesting personality where moth and rust do not
corrupt, whatever harm they may do higher up,
and where the cobwebs lie even more thickly than In
your alleged brain. As you write, and as the re-
suit of the mere act of writing the story lying dor
mant in your subcear slowly shakes leg, quiyers,
stretches, extends itself to its full length yawns,
rises with sundry anatomical contortions and, ad-
vancing crosses the threshold of your subconscous
ness into the we'll busted and cleaned basement of
your consciousness, whence it is but step to full
daylight and the shadow of printed black charac-
tiers upon a to-and- fro travelling page.
Unadulterated With Brains.
In other words, you are an automaton; and to
be an automaton in this world of exuberant orig
inality is blissful thing.
Your brain is not engaged at all This is why
writing fiction actually rests the brain 1t is why
those who are suffering from brain fag find recrea-
ton and enjoyment, health and mental strength in
writing short story a novel. The short story is
a two weeks vacation for the tired mind. Writing
a novel is month, with full pay. 1t is true that
readers are rather prone to resent the widespread
habit of novests recuperating and recovering their
mental faculties at their readers expense. This
sentiment is without any justification in fact since
for every novelist who RECEIVERS from brain fag by
writing a work of fiction there are thousands of
readers who restore their exhausted intelects with
a complete rest by reading the aforesaid work of
fiction.
OF course the subconscious cellar theory of novel
writing is not final and authoritative There is at
least one other tenable explanation of how novels
are written and we proceed to give it.
This is that the story is projected through the
personality of the writer who is in all respects no
more than q mechanism and whose role may be
accurately compared to that of telephone trans
mitter in talk over the wire