McClure Syndicate, a juvenile serial which may be referred to here as
"The Campaign at Topeka." For this he had been offered $200, which
offer he promptly accepted. He had not received a check, however, and
was at a loss to understand the reason. To this day the reason remains
obscure, although later events pointed to a misunderstanding of some
kind regarding the story between the Syndicate and one of its readers.
Before Edwards left New York he was paid the $200. More than a year
afterward he was informed that the serial had been sold to the Century
Company for _St. Nicholas_, and that after publication in that magazine
it was to be brought out in book form.
It was Mr. T. C. McClure who put Edwards in touch with the Dillingham
Company and referred him to them as prospective publishers, in cloth,
of the successful Syndicate story, "A Tale of Two Towns." Edwards
submitted galley proofs of the serial to Mr. Cook of the Dillingham
Company, and ultimately signed a contract to have the book published on
the usual royalty basis of ten per cent.
For Harte & Perkins, during the year, the Factory ground out nickel
novels, juvenile serials, one sketch for the trade paper and a few
detective stories. On Nov. 28, after he had returned home from New
York, he was notified:
"Much as I regret to inform you of it, by a recent purchase of
copyright stories we are placed in a position where we will not
require any further material for any of our five-cent libraries for
some time to come, so we must discontinue orders to you for all this
material."
Edwards, in a way, had become hardened to messages of this kind.
_The Argosy_ was an anchor to windward, and he resolved to give his
attention to serials for Mr. White. In December, 1902, and January
and February, 1903, he wrote and forwarded "Ninety, North," a second
fantastic story called "There and Back," and the Arizona serial "Grains
of Gold." All three of these stories were sold at once, bringing in
$700. In a letter dated Oct. 14, 1903, Mr. White had this to say about
"There and Back:"
"Thanks for letting me see the enclosed letter regarding 'Ninety,
North.' I am equally pleased with yourself at its significance. I am
wondering whether you have heard much about your story 'There and
Back?' My impression is that that has been one of the most popular
stories you have ever written for _The Argosy_. When I see you I will
tell you an odd little circumstance that occurred in connection with
its run in the magazine."
The circumstances referred to by Mr. White took place in Paris. One of
_The Argosy's_ readers happened to be in a café, looking over proofs of
a forthcoming installment of "There and Back" while at her luncheon,
when she heard the story being discussed, in complimentary terms,
by a number of Frenchmen at an adjoining table. Strange indeed that
Frenchmen should be interested in an American story, and stranger still
that _The Argosy's_ reader should be reading an installment of the very
same story while men in that foreign café were discussing it!
The first installment of "There and Back," Mr. White informed Edwards,
had increased _The Argosy's_ circulation _seven thousand copies_.[H]
On March 2 Harte & Perkins requested Edwards to continue work on
the old Five-Cent Library. By taking up this work again he would
be diminishing the Factory's serial output, but he reflected that
his fertility in the matter of serials would soon have Mr. White
over-supplied. Therefore Edwards decided to go on with the nickel
weeklies.
In March, as Mr. MacLean of _The Popular Magazine_ once put it, Edwards
"came out in cloth," the Dillingham Company issuing "A Tale of Two
Towns" on St. Patrick's Day.
What are the feelings of an author when he opens his first book for the
first time? If you, dear reader, are yet to "get out in cloth" for the
first time, then some day you will know. But, if you value your peace
of mind, do not build too gorgeous an air castle on the foundation of
this printed thing. Printed things are at the mercy of the reviewers
and, in a larger sense, of the great reading public. The reviewers, in
nearly every instance, were kind with "A Tale of Two Towns." In many
quarters it was praised fulsomely, but the book did not strike that
fickle sentiment called popular fancy. In six months, Mr. Cook, of the
Dillingham Company, wrote Edwards that "A Tale of Two Towns" was "a
dead duck." In the December settlement, however, the remains yielded
royalties of $96.60. For two or three years the royalties trailed
along, and finally the edition was wound up with a payment of $1.50.
_Sic transit gloria!_
During January, 1903, a theatrical gentleman requested Edwards to
dramatize a book which Messrs. Street & Smith had issued in paper
covers. "You can change the title," the gentleman suggested, "and
slightly change the incidents. In that way it won't be necessary to
write Street & Smith for permission or, indeed, to let them know
anything about it." Edwards knew, however, that nothing will so surely
wreck a writer's prospects as playing fast and loose with editors
and publishers. He refused to consider the theatrical gentleman's
proposition. Instead, he forwarded his _Argosy_ story, "The Desperado's
Understudy," upon which Mr. White had given him dramatic rights, and
offered to make a stage version of it. The offer was accepted and a
play was built up from the story. The theatrical gentleman was pleased
and said he would give $1,500 for the dramatization. Then, alas! the
theatrical gentleman's company went on the rocks at the Alhambra
Theatre, in Chicago, and Edwards had repeated his former playwriting
experience.
The two years' work figured out in this wise:
1902:
23 Five-Cent Libraries @ $40 each $ 920.00
8 detective stories @ $40 each 320.00
4 juvenile serials @ $100 each 400.00
1 sketch for trade paper 10.00
"The Desperado's Understudy," 250.00
"The Campaign at Topeka," 200.00
Short stories 67.00
--------
Total $2167.00
1903:
42 Five-Cent Libraries @ $40 each $1680.00
2 detective stories @ $40 each 80.00
"Ninety, North," 150.00
"There and Back," 250.00
"A Sensational Affair," short story, 15.00
"Grains of Gold," 300.00
"Fate's Gamblers,"[I] 100.00
"The Morning Star Race," short story, 15.00
"A Game for Two," 200.00
Royalties on book, "A Tale of Two Towns," 96.60
"The Point of Honor," 150.00
--------
Total $3036.60
As several gentlemen in these times, by the wonderful force of genius
only, without the least assistance of learning, perhaps without being
able to read, have made a considerable figure in the republic of
letters; the modern critics, I am told, have lately begun to assert,
that all kind of learning is entirely useless to a writer, and
indeed, no other than a kind of fetters on the natural sprightliness
and activity of the imagination, which is thus weighed down, and
prevented from soaring to those high flights which otherwise it would
be able to reach.
This doctrine, I am afraid, is at present carried much too far; for
why should writing differ so much from other arts? The nimbleness of
a dancing-master is not at all prejudiced by being taught to move;
nor doth any mechanic, I believe, excercise his tools the worse by
having learnt to use them.--_Fielding_, "Tom Jones."
FOOTNOTES:
[H] "There and Back" went through the Fiction Factory in twelve days.
[I] This story sold through Kellogg Newspaper Company, Chicago. The two
short stories sold to the late lamented _Wayside Tales_, Detroit, Mich.
XVII.
ETHICS OF THE
NICKEL NOVEL
Is the nickel novel easy to write? The writer who has never attempted
one is quite apt to think that it is. There are hundreds of writers,
the Would-be-Goods, making less than a thousand a year, who would throw
up their hands in horror at the very thought of debasing their art by
contriving at "sensational" five-cent fiction. So far from "debasing
their art," as a matter of fact they could not lift it to the _high
plane_ of the nickel novel if they tried. Of these Would-be-Goods
more anon--to use an expression of the ante-bellum romancers. Suffice
to state, in this place, writers of recognized standing, and even
ministers, have written--and some now are writing--these quick-moving
stories. There's a knack about it, and the knack is not easy to
acquire. No less a person than Mr. Richard Duffy, formerly editor of
_Ainslee's_ and later of the _Cavalier_, a man of rare gifts as a
writer, once told Edwards that the nickel novel was beyond his powers.
So far as Edwards is concerned, he gave the best that was in him to the
half-dime "dreadfuls," and he made nothing dreadful of them after all.
He has written hundreds, and there is not a line in any one of them
which he would not gladly have his own son read. In fact, his ethical
standard, to which every story must measure up, was expressed in this
mental question as he worked: "If I had a boy would I willingly put
this before him?" If the answer was No, the incident, the paragraph,
the sentence or the word was eliminated. In 1910 Edwards wrote his last
nickel novel, turning his back deliberately on three thousand dollars
a year (they were paying him $60 each for them then), not because they
were "debasing his art" but because he could make more money at other
writing--for when one is forty-four he must get on as fast as he can.
The libraries, as they were written by Edwards, were typed on paper
8-1/2" by 13", the marginal stops so placed that a typewritten line
approximated the same line when printed. Eighty of these sheets
completed a story, and five pages were regularly allowed to each
chapter. Thus there were always sixteen chapters in every story.
First it is necessary to submit titles, and scenes for illustration.
Selecting an appropriate title is an art in itself. Alliteration is all
right, if used sparingly, and novel effects that do not defy the canons
of good taste should be sought after. The title, too, should go hand
in hand with the picture that illustrates the story. This picture, by
the way, has demands of its own. In the better class of nickel novels
firearms and other deadly weapons are tabooed. The picture must be
unusual and it must be exciting, but its suggested morality must be
high.
The ideas for illustrations all go to the artist days or even weeks in
advance of the stories themselves. It is the writer's business to lay
out this prospective work intelligently, so that he may weave around it
a group of logical stories.
Usually the novels are written in sets of three; that is, throughout
such a series the same principal characters are used, and three
different groups of incidents are covered. In this way, while each
story is complete in itself, it is possible to combine the series and
preserve the effect of a single story from beginning to end. These sets
are so combined, as a matter of fact, and sold for ten cents.
Each chapter closes with a "curtain." In other words, the chapter works
the action up to an interesting point, similar to a serial "leave-off,"
and drops a quick curtain. Skill is important here. The publishers of
this class of fiction will not endure inconsistency for a moment. The
stories appeal to a clientele keen to detect the improbable and to
treat it with contempt.
Good, snappy dialogue is favored, but it must be dialogue that
moves the story along. An apt retort has no excuse in the yarn
unless it really belongs there. A multitude of incidents--none of
them hackneyed--is a prime requisite. Complexity of plot invites
censure--and usually secures it. The plot must be simple, but it must
be striking.
One author failed because he had his hero-detective strain his massive
intellect through 20,000 words merely to recover $100 that had been
purloined from an old lady's handbag. If the author had made it a
million dollars stolen from a lady like Mrs. Hetty Green, probably his
labor would have been crowned with success. These five-cent heroes are
in no sense small potatoes. They may court perils galore and rub elbows
with death, now and then, for nothing at all, but certainly never for
the mere bagatelle of $100.
The hero does not drink. He does not swear. Very often he will not
smoke. He is a chivalrous gentleman, ever a friend of the weak and
deserving. He accomplishes all this with a ready good nature that has
nothing of the goody-good in its make-up. The hero does not smoke
because, being an athlete, he must keep in constant training in order
to master his many difficulties. For the same reason he will not drink.
As for swearing, it is a useless pastime and very common; besides, it
betrays excitement, and the hero is never excited.
The old-style yellow-back hero was given to massacres. He slew his
enemies valiantly by brigades. Not so the modern hero of the five-cent
novel. Rarely, in the stories, does any one cross the divide. And
whenever the villain is hurt, he is quite apt to recover, thank the
hero for hurting him--and become his sworn friend.
The story must be _clean_, and while it must necessarily be exciting,
it must yet leave the reader's mind with a net profit in all the manly
virtues. Is this easy?
Please note this extract from a letter written by Harte & Perkins Dec.
25, 1902--it covers a point whose humor, Edwards thought, drew the
sting of dishonesty:
"Your last story, No. 285, opened well, had plenty of good incidents
and was interesting, but there are several points in which it might
have been improved.
Your description of Two Spot's scheme of posing Dutchy as a petrified
boy is amusing, but the plan was dishonest and a piece of trickery.
It was all right, perhaps, to let the boys go ahead without the
knowledge of the Hero, but when he learned of it he should have put
a stop to the plan immediately. It was all right to have him laugh
at it, but at the same time he should have spoken severely to the
boys about it and ordered them to return the money they had received
through their trick. He did not do this in your story and it was
necessary for me to alter it considerably in the first part on that
account.
The Hero is supposed to be the soul of honor, and in your story he is
posed as a party to a deception practised on the citizens of Ouray,
by which they were defrauded of the money they paid for admission
to see the supposed "petrified boy." Such conduct on his part would
soon lose for him the admiration of the readers of the weekly, as
it places him on a moral level, almost, with the robbers whom he is
bringing to justice."
Consider that, you Would-be-Goods, who are not above putting worse
things in your "high-class" work. And can you say "I am holier than
thou" to the conscientious writer who turns out his 20,000 or 25,000
words a week along these ethical lines? Handsome is as handsome does!
Somebody is going to write these stories. There is a demand for them.
The writer who can set hand to such fiction, who meets his moral
responsibilities unflinchingly, is doing a splendid work for Young
America.
And yet, as stated in a previous chapter, there are nickel novels
_and_ nickel novels--some to read and some to put in the stove unread.
High-minded publishers, however, are not furnishing the careful head of
the family with material for his kitchen fire.
It costs you nothing to think, but it costs infinitely to write. I
therefore preach to you eternally that art of writing which Boileau
has so well known and so well taught, that respect for the language,
that connection and sequence of ideas, that air of ease with which
he conducts his readers, that naturalness which is the true fruit of
art, and that appearance of facility which is due to toil alone. A
word out of place spoils the most beautiful thought.--_Voltaire to
Helvetius_, a young author.
XVIII
KEEPING
EVERLASTINGLY AT IT
Edwards had not visited New York in 1903, but he landed there on
Friday, Jan. 1, 1904,--literally storming in on a train that was seven
hours late on account of the weather. A cab hurried him and his wife to
the place in Forty-fourth street where the pleasant landlady used to
hold forth, but they found, alas! that the old stamping ground was in
the hands of strangers. It was like being turned away from home.
Where should they go? Edwards remembered that, on one of his previous
visits to New York, Mr. Perkins had recommended the St. George Hotel,
over in Brooklyn. The St. George was within a few blocks of the south
end of the bridge and the offices of Harte & Perkins were in William
street, close to the north end. So Edwards and his wife went to the
Brooklyn hotel and there established their headquarters.
On Jan. 2 Edwards called on the patrons of his Factory. The result was
not particularly encouraging. Harte & Perkins instructed him to stop
work on the Five-Cent Library, but said that in about two months they
would have a new library for him to take care of.
Edwards had brought with him to the city his dramatic version of "The
Tangle in Butte," the play which had come so near turning $5,000 into
the Factory's strong-box. It was Edwards' hope that he might be able
to dispose of the play, but the hope went glimmering when he learned
that there were 10,000 actors stranded in New York, and that things
theatrical were generally in a bad way.
During 1903 Edwards had corresponded with Mr. H. H. Lewis, editor of
_The Popular Magazine_, a recent venture of Messrs. Street & Smith's.
He had submitted manuscripts to Mr. Lewis but they had not proved to
be in line with _The Popular's_ requirements. It is difficult, through
correspondence, to discover just what an editor wants. The only way to
get at such a thing properly is by personal interview. If the would-be
contributor does not then get the editor's needs clearly in mind it is
his own fault.
Edwards called on Mr. Lewis and had a pleasant chat with him. The
assistant editor was Mr. A. D. Hall, a capable gentleman who had been
with Messrs. Street & Smith for many years, and with whom Edwards was
well acquainted.
At that time Louis Joseph Vance was writing for _The Popular Magazine_,
among others, and Edwards met him in Mr. Lewis' office. As Edwards was
leaving, after outlining a novelette and receiving a commission to
write it, he paused with one hand on the door-knob.
"I'll turn in the story, Mr. Lewis," said he, "and I hope you'll like
it and buy it."
"Of course he'll like it and buy it," called out Vance. "You're going
to write it for him, aren't you?"
"Why, yes," returned Edwards, "but--"
"You're not a peddler," interrupted Vance, "to write stuff and go
hawking it about from office to office. We're writers, and when we know
what a man wants _we deliver the goods_."
This was before the days of "The Brass Bowl" and "_Terence O'Rourke_,"
but already Vance had found himself and was striking the key-note of
confidence. _Confidence_--that's the word. Back it up with fair ability
and the writer will go far.
From _The Popular's_ editorial rooms Edwards went up Fifth avenue for
a call on the editor of _The Argosy_. Much to his disappointment Mr.
White was out of town for New Year's and would not return until the
following week.
The story which Edwards had presented to Mr. Lewis in its oral and
tabloid form was one that had been written in 1903 and turned down by
Mr. White. Before offering the manuscript to _The Popular_, Edwards
intended to rewrite it and strengthen it.
A typewriter was ordered sent over to the St. George Hotel, and on Jan.
3 the rewriting of the novelette was begun. The story was called "The
Highwayman's Waterloo," or something to that effect. On the following
day twenty-four pages of the manuscript were submitted to Mr. Lewis,
won his approval, and the rewriting proceeded.
Two chapters of a serial were also offered to Mr. White for
examination. The story was called "The Skirts of Chance," and had been
begun before Edwards left home.
During 1902 and '03 Edwards had worked, at odd times, on what he
designed to be a "high-class" juvenile story. It was 60,000 words in
length, when completed in the Summer of 1903, and in September he had
submitted it to Dodd, Mead & Company. Not having heard from the story,
on this January day that saw him passing out fragments of manuscripts
to _The Popular_ and _The Argosy_ he went on farther up Fifth avenue
and dropped in to ask D., M. & Co., how "Danny W.," was fareing at the
hands of their readers. He was told that five readers had examined
the story and that it was then in the hands of the sixth! Some of the
readers--and this came to him privately--had turned in a favorable
report. Because of this, the author of "Danny W.," went back to
Brooklyn considerably elated. It would be an honor indeed to have the
book break through such a formidable brigade of readers and get into
the catalogue of the good old house of Dodd, Mead & Company.
The "highwayman" novelette was finished and submitted in its complete
form on Jan. 6. On the same day Mr. White informed Edwards that he was
well pleased with the two chapters of "The Skirts of Chance" and told
him to proceed with it.
Fortune was on the upward trend for Edwards, and he was sent for by
Dodd, Mead & Company, on Jan. 15, and informed that they would either
bring out "Danny W.," on a royalty or pay a cash price for the book
rights. Edwards, remembering his disastrous publishing experience with
"A Tale of Two Towns," accepted $200 in cash.
Mr. Lewis bought the novelette for $125, and Harte & Perkins, on the
same day, gave Edwards a new library to do--35,000 words in each story
at $50.
Complete manuscript of "The Skirts of Chance" was submitted to Mr.
White on Jan. 22, and on Jan. 27 Edwards received $300 for it.
By Feb. 8 Edwards had written and sold to Mr. Lewis another novelette
entitled, "The Duke's Understudy," for which he received $140.
On Feb. 9 he and his wife returned to Michigan. Edwards had been in New
York forty days and had gathered in $965. He left New York with orders
for _Argosy_ serials and with the new library, "Sea and Shore," to be
turned in at the rate of one story every two months.
In May he was requested to go on with the Old Five-Cent Library. These
stories were forwarded regularly one each week, until November, when
orders were again discontinued.
In September, "Danny W.," appeared. As with "A Tale of Two Towns,"
the reviewers were more than kind to "Danny W.," and there is just
a possibility that they killed him with kindness. The idea obtains,
in supposedly well-informed circles, that the only way for reviewers
to help a book is to damn it utterly. Be this as it may, although
illustrated in color and put out in the best style of the book-maker's
art, "Danny W.," did not prove much of a success. A California paper
bought serial rights on the story for $50, and thus the book netted the
author, all told, the modest sum of $250.
During this year, also, The A. N. Kellogg Newspaper Company sold serial
rights on "Fate's Gamblers" for $30, took 50 per cent. as a commission
and presented Edwards with what was left.
A short story, "The Camp Coyote," was sold to Mr. Titherington, for
_Munsey's_; and Edwards had opened a new market in Street & Smith's
magazines. Thus was brought to a close a fairly prosperous year.
In 1905 the returns slid backward a little. During this year, and the
year preceding, some stories which had failed with Mr. White were
received with favor by Mr. Kerr, of _The Chicago Ledger_--at the
_Ledger_ price, ranging from $30 upward to $75.
The _Woman's Home Companion_, to which Edwards had vainly tried to sell
serial rights on "Danny W.," accepted a two-part story entitled, "The
Redskin and the Paper-Talk," and paid $200 for it. This is the story of
which a chapter was lost in the composing room, and Edwards received an
honorarium of $5 for having a carbon duplicate of the few missing pages.
In 1905, also, The American Press Association did business with Edwards
to the amount of $30. Another market for the Edwards' product--worth
mentioning even though the amount of business done was not large.
The returns for the two years were as follows: