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Ebook has 176 lines and 20032 words, and 4 pages

Want of discrimination between synonyms, p. 39.

Carelessness as to the meaning of sentences, p. 42.

The use of relatives, p. 52. Professor Nichol most truthfully says: "The most fertile source of confusion in English is a slovenly use of relatives."

Arrangement, p. 63.

It may be well to state here that neither shorthand nor typewriting is requisite to the ultimate success of the journalistic aspirant. The common notion that shorthand is part of the equipment of every journalist is quite wrong. If, however, the aspirant possesses a typewriter and the skill to use it, she will of course be able to get her articles transcribed for nothing.

Style

"How can I acquire a good style of writing?"

Pathetic question, invariably asked by the artless beginner!

It is a current impression that style is something apart from, something foreign to, matter--a beautiful robe which, once it is found, may be used to clothe the nudity of matter. Young writers wander forth searching for style, as one searches for that which is hidden. They might employ themselves as profitably in looking for the noses on their faces. For style is personal, as much a portion of one's self as the voice. It is within, not without; it needs only to be elicited, brought to light.

The one possible way of developing the latent style which has always been yours, is to forget absolutely that such a thing as style exists.

For good style consists in saying exactly what you mean with the utmost clearness and the utmost naturalness: simply that! When you have accomplished so much, you have accomplished good style. In no sense is style of the nature of embroidery, an ornament superimposed: this is what the beginner fails to grasp; she somehow cannot rid herself of the superstition that after the meaning is precisely expressed, something further remains to be done.

I have put clearness and naturalness as the two attributes of good style. Clearness need not be defined. Naturalness will not suffer definition; it depends on the individual, and must be determined by the individual. What is proper for one person may be improper for another. Carlyle was ungraceful with impunity; Lamb could not have been so. We may no more choose our styles than our characters. Style, like character, can, it is true, be trained--strengthened, chastened, refined, rendered shapely; but in essentials it must for ever remain as it originally was. It is the expression, not only of the thoughts immediately to be set down, but of the very man himself, and with the man it will develop. It cannot be invented; it cannot be concocted. It must be a natural growth--watched, tended, fostered, pruned, but after all a natural growth.

To find out, to uncover, one's true style; to lay bare one's self: how is this to be set about? Primarily, by experiment in the way of imitation, which is the commencement of all art. Every great artist--Shakspere, Beethoven, Velasquez, Inigo Jones--has started by imitating the models which he admired and to which he felt drawn. You must do the same. It is the surest and indeed the only way of arriving at one's true individuality.

Paraphrasing is an excellent practice. Read a passage from the author of your choice; grasp thoroughly its purport, but do not learn it by heart. Then close the book, and endeavour to set down in fresh words the thing you have read. In a few days compare your work with the classic. The comparison will induce humility, and humility is the beginning of knowledge. After a period of pure imitation you will begin, at first almost imperceptibly, to diverge into a direction of your own. Then proceed warily, making the curve very gradual.

Never attempt to pass judgment on your writing before it is a week old. Until a reasonable interval has elapsed, it is impossible for you to distinguish between what you had in your mind and what is actually on the paper; the brain, still occupied with the thought to be expressed, unconsciously supplies the omissions and clarifies the obscurities of the written word, which thus seems more satisfactory and convincing than it really is. With the passage of time, the thought fades, and the written expression of it, no longer illuminated by memory, must then stand with you on its intrinsic merits. When thus examining your work, read it aloud: the process will disclose weaknesses of all sorts not previously suspected.

Do not destroy anything which you have written. It is well from time to time to refer to past work. To find that one has progressed is always an encouragement to further effort.

So far generally.

As this book does not happen to be a guide to style, it is impossible here to discuss every point likely to arise during the aspirant's self-education in the art of literary expression. But there are several scarlet sins against which she must be briefly warned.

"Nouns. Difficulty, hardness ; impracticability, &c. ; tough-, hard-, uphill- work; hard-, herculean-, Augean-task; task of Sisyphus, Sisyphean labour, tough job, teaser, rasper, dead lift.

"Nonplus, quandary, strait, pass, pinch, pretty pass, stress, brunt; critical situation, crisis; trial, rub, emergency, exigency, scramble.

The catalogues of allied adjectives and of allied verbs are even longer than the foregoing.

The sin of using trite expressions is equally common among men and women. There are others which chiefly beset women:--

Wordiness. When you have written a paragraph, examine it carefully with the object of eliminating every word which is not necessary to the expression of the meaning. Be sure that you have not said the same thing twice in different words. Keep watch especially against pleonasms. Let this be your motto: Brevity without baldness.

Undue use of metaphor, simile, and figure. This is a sin to which women are wofully prone. They commit it with glee, and I have often found it a most difficult matter to make them realise the absurdities which result from the practice of it. As an illustration of the ludicrous consequences of unbridled indulgence in metaphor and simile, I quote the following extract from a serious and justly respected newspaper.

"I have gasped in wonder to witness one of Her Majesty's judges forsake--on very insufficient provocation--the gossamer of recreative conversation, to upraise a few monumental, I may say memorable, judgments on the subject of lithography. Now, there are many red rags in the various arts with which to encompass the discomfiture of the Philistine's bull, and the raven will always appropriate the feathers of the peacock and look ridiculous in them; but the rapier enwreathed in the red rag of painting is more readily rushed upon, and plumes of appreciation more wantonly borrowed and grotesquely worn in this walk of art than in any other."

The Outside Contributor

"There are only about a dozen papers in London worth writing for, but I can give you a good account of them. Not only do they pay handsomely, but the majority are open to contributions from anyone. Don't you believe what one reads about newspaper rings. Everything sent in is looked at, and if it is suitable any editor is glad to have it. Men fail to get a footing on the press because--well, as a rule because they are stupid."

This is indeed wisdom. I demur to the first sentence alone. There are to-day many more than a dozen papers in London worth writing for; I should put the number nearer a hundred; papers which pay, if not handsomely, at least adequately, seldom lower than fifteen shillings per thousand, and in some noble instances ascending to two guineas--which is princely. A dozen papers worth writing for in the whole of London! Why, it is scarcely uncommon for a single firm to have control of a dozen reputable publications!

The beginner must, for her encouragement and solace under rebuffs, grasp firmly the fact that the immense majority of London editors are not merely willing but in truth anxious to peruse such manuscripts as she cares to submit to their notice, and to accept them if suitable. The supply of really suitable material of average quality does not often exceed the demand, and the supply of suitable material which can be called distinguished is always less than the demand. This is why the editorial eye keeps a sleepless watch for that long-desired new writer, who may be yourself. Also, the beginner should remember with pride that the Press as a whole relies for much of its freshness and attraction upon the outside contributor. If the stream of unsolicited contributions were suddenly to cease flowing into Fleet Street, the monthlies would find themselves in a predicament; all the weeklies , from the esoteric literary sixpenny to the penny popular with a circulation equal to the population of Glasgow, would be compelled to cast aside dignity, and solicit instead of being solicited; even those pompous creatures, the "great dailies," would feel the pinch, despite their regular services and seething staffs. Let it be your glory, therefore, O outside contributors, that the very existence of the Press, as at present organised, depends upon yourselves.

I have already referred to the necessity of visiting regularly a public news-room. As you progress in the power of composition, so must your knowledge of the "make-up" of all the principal papers increase; for the first is useless without the second. You must, in particular, know intimately the complicated topography of all the daily papers--on what days certain features appear; what length of article is affected by each paper; and the subtle variations of tone which, apart from grosser differences, distinguish one organ from another. You must also be well acquainted with the various editorial notices, and take care, when sending in manuscripts, always to obey the instructions there laid down.

Do net despise "class" papers, those which appeal only to a particular section of the community--religious, architectural, literary, artistic, and so forth. These papers sometimes experience a difficulty in getting what articles they desire, and indeed it is notorious that the editors of certain of them are often at their wits' end in the search for new treatments of an exhausted subject. The reasons for such a state of affairs are, of course, first, that outside contributors in their blindness pass over these papers, and secondly, that as the subjects are sharply limited, so is the field for copy.

Naturally it is impossible to offer particular advice upon so immense a subject as the selection of topics for articles, but attention is directed to the following three points:--

Your paragraph or article having been composed, there arises the question of the proper way to copy and dispatch it:--

Her manuscript decently dispatched, the aspirant will feel happy and well satisfied till shortly before the earliest hour possible for its return. Then begins suspense. She will sit awaiting with counterfeit calm the postman. She hears his tread on the pavement outside; he mounts the steps, knocks; there is the gentle concussion of a packet against the bottom of the letter-box. Is it the article returned? She still keeps hope. Even when one day the large envelope, addressed in her own writing, is put into her hands, she says to herself that the editor has only returned it for a few trifling modifications....

If at first you fail--as will certainly be the case; you may sell nothing whatever for twelve months--be quite sure that it is not--

Because there is a conspiracy among editors to suppress talented beginners.

Or because the market is overcrowded.

Or because your manuscripts have not been carefully read.

Or because editors do not know their business.

Try to convince yourself that the true reason is--

Because your stuff has not yet reached the level of merely technical accomplishment which the average editor exacts.

Or because your topics are devoid of interest for any numerous body of persons.

Or because you persist in sending your articles to the wrong papers.

The first defect ought to be remedied speedily. The second is more difficult to deal with, and the third is most difficult. The eradication of these two will necessitate careful and continuous study of journalism in all its manifestations, and nothing but successive defeats will teach you how to be victorious. However, perseverance granted, the hour will come when an article of yours finds its way to the composing room. A day of ecstasy, upon which every disappointment is forgotten and the way forward seems straight and facile!

As soon as you can rely upon selling one article out of four, count it that you are progressing.

As to remuneration, a few papers send out cheques at regular intervals without putting their contributors to any trouble in the matter. Others, and among them some of the best, never pay till a demand is made. Some, including one or two organs of note, never pay till they are compelled to do so. If a remittance is not received during the month following publication, it is advisable to deliver an account, giving the date of appearance, exact title, and number of pages, columns, or inches.

The Search for Copy

Let us see this fact clear: editors have little use for essays and they have no use for views . To gain acceptance essays must be extremely well done, and emphatically they are not stuff for beginners to tackle. Apparently the easiest form of composition in the world, the essay is in truth one of the most difficult. Not much experience is needed to prove this. Yet every woman who aspires to journalism must needs employ her clumsy pen upon essays. "From my Window" is a favourite title with the rank beginner. Charles Lamb might conceivably have written an essay called "From my Window" which would have been a masterpiece--and there is a remote chance that some editor might have accepted it. But then Charles Lamb is dead, and his secret died with him.

Despite the vast number of articles written and printed during recent years, there remains a yet vaster number of articles waiting to be written--even after leaving essays out of account. In fact the more articles written, the more to be written. The field for copy has a resemblance to Klondyke: removal of treasure serves only to bring larger quantities into sight.

Journalism ever grows wider, more comprehensive; the whole history of the profession demonstrates this. In the early years of daily journalism, for example, the sole subjects deemed worthy of a newspaper's attention were politics, money, and the law. Some conservative sheets still endeavour to live up to this ideal, but the circulation and the influence go to those which find no aspect of human existence beneath their notice. Formerly newspapers had a morbid dread of being readable. They have lost that dread now, and those which have lost it most completely, most completely succeed. As with the dailies, so with every other sort of paper. The aim is to be inclusive, satisfying the public curiosity and at the same time whetting it; for the more the public knows, the more it wants to know. And it refuses any longer to make a task of newspaper-reading. It demands that it shall be amused while it is instructed, like a child at a kindergarten.

To make sure that you are availing yourself of the immense possibilities for copy which this extraordinary inquisitiveness on the part of the public has fortunately created, you must cultivate an attitude of mind which is constantly asking the question:--

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