I see my publishers are bringing out a new magazine with all the usual
contributors. Of course they don’t ask me to write and this shows that
they do not think my name would help their magazine. This, I imagine,
means that Andrew Lang has told them that my humour is forced. I should
not myself say that Andrew Lang’s humour would lose by a little forcing.
I have seen enough of my publishers to know that they have no ideas of
their own about literature save what they can clutch at as believing it
to be a straight tip from a business point of view. Heaven forbid that I
should blame them for doing exactly what I should do myself in their
place, but, things being as they are, they are no use to me. They have
no confidence in me and they must have this or they will do nothing for
me beyond keeping my books on their shelves.
Perhaps it is better that I should not have a chance of becoming a
hack-writer, for I should grasp it at once if it were offered me.
XI
Cash and Credit