The Outside Contributor

In Mr. J.M. Barrie's When a Man's Single [Footnote: This brilliant novel should be seriously studied by every young journalist. It contains more useful advice to the outside contributor than all the manuals of journalism ever written.] the following homily is delivered by a journalist of experience to a naive and innocent beginner:--

"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 (whatever the case ten years ago) 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 (except certain "class" organs), 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.

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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.

The length of an article is a most important matter and frequently decides its fate. Accordingly, the question of lengths must be thoroughly studied. For a simple example, you must know that a Globe "turnover" (the celebrated daily article which occupies the last column on the first page and "turns over" to the second page) must necessarily exceed a thousand words; no article intended for that position, whatever its merit, can have the least chance of acceptance if it falls short of this minimum. Again, the first article in the Evening Standard must exactly fill the column, no more and no less.

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.

It would be well to buy for reference Sells' Dictionary of the World's Press (7s. 6d.), a vast volume containing indexes of all papers, with their addresses, and a quantity of useful information concerning them. The Literary Year Book (George Allen, 3s. 6d.), gives a tabular statement (incomplete, but useful so far as it goes) showing the editorial requirements of a number of weekly and monthly organs.

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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:--

1. Editors, especially editors of weeklies and monthlies, find it necessary to make their arrangements far in advance of publishing day. Therefore the outside contributor must always look ahead. In March she should have an eye on Midsummer, at Midsummer she should be engrossed by Christmas, and at Christmas that notorious article, "Easter in many Lands," should be approaching completion. It is useless to send in (as so many thoughtless ones do send in) an essay on the New Year just before Christmas, or a seaside dissertation towards the end of July. And this applies not only to the great annual festivals and seasons, but also to all important political, social, and general events whose dates are known beforehand. Take, for an instance, the annual meeting of the British Association. If you send to an editor an anecdotal history of the British Association only a a few days before the meeting itself, you thereby assume that the editor is depending for his topical articles on chance contributions received at the last moment. Which is patently absurd. Without doubt that editor had arranged his British Association articles a couple of months previously, and it is not improbable that he accepted the suggestions of some outside contributor who had been clever enough to look into the future. It is a good plan to compile for reference a calendar of festivals, seasons, and public events, exactly such as the editor himself must use.

2. Women need not confine themselves to women's subjects. Many women writers seem to think that they are debarred by some defect or limitation of sex from treating topics other than those commonly termed feminine. But there is no reason why a woman should not deal as effectively as a man with general matters. (To argue that, because the male journalist does not usually touch women's affairs without being ridiculous, therefore the converse holds good, is illogical.) I lay stress on this.

3. Do not disdain to write mere paragraphs. The present is an era of paragraphs, and they form a most marketable commodity. Scarcely an editor but is continually gaping for topical paragraphs. Moreover paragraphs are less difficult to write than articles, since they demand less constructive skill; many aspirants can put together a passable paragraph who would fail miserably with an article. Further, they have a better chance of acceptance, cæteris paribus, for the reason that editors find them easier to handle. Often an editor declines an article which he likes, simply because he knows that to use it would involve the re-modelling of an entire issue; a paragraph is more amenable. Lastly, paragraphs are paid for, and just as much as articles they may afford one the encouraging satisfaction of seeing her stuff in print. The beginner, therefore, will do well to begin with paragraph work; articles may follow at a later stage.

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

1. In the majority of instances it is unnecessary to typewrite. Typewriting is somewhat expensive and often inaccurate, and unless you happen to possess your own typewriter, there is no reason why caligraphy should not suffice for your needs. (A few editors, however, insist that all copy submitted shall be typewritten.) Use quarto paper--that is, the size of a sheet of note-paper opened--and only one side of it. Write very plainly, not too small, leaving a wide margin at the left hand, and a good space between the words and between the lines.

2. Fasten the sheets together at the top left hand corner with a paper fastener, the pointed ends of the fastener being at the top. Do not pin the sheets; do not stitch them; whatever else you do, refrain from stitching them all the way down the left hand side, as this process makes it irritatingly difficult to turn them over.

3. Write your name and address not only at the top of the manuscript itself, but also on the back, so that they may be prominent when the manuscript is folded up. Write boldly on the first page the exact length of the article in words.

4. Enclose a stamped and addressed envelope--not a book-post wrapper; manuscripts which see much of the world (and your earlier manuscripts will probably see a very great deal of the world) become damaged and ruinous by travelling in a book-post wrapper. Be sure that the envelope is sufficiently stamped, and be sure also that it is large enough to hold the manuscript.

5. Never send out a dirty or ragged manuscript. The editor is prejudiced by the first sight of such a manuscript, for he knows at once that it has been refused elsewhere.

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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....

Invariably the thing does come back, sooner or later, with some curt circular of refusal. Moodiness and discouragement follow. But it is as wise to be annoyed by editors as to quarrel with the weather. Idle depression must instantly give place to renewed activity. The journalistic instinct, says Noble Simms in When a Man's Single, "includes a determination not to be beaten as well as an aptitude for selecting the proper subjects."

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 (low) 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.

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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

There comes a time when the aspirant, proudly conscious of a certain technical skill in composition and construction, and disheartened by repeated failures, exclaims with petulance: "What shall I write about?" She dolefully imagines that the list of feasible subjects is exhausted; her wearied brain refuses any longer to carry on its sterile activities, and despair settles down upon her. This is because her eyes have not been opened to the limitless possibilities for the making of good "copy" which exist on every side. Most probably she has been looking in quite the wrong direction.

When Rob Angus, in When a Man's Single, remarks to Rorrison, "And yet I had thirty articles rejected before the 'Minotaur' accepted that one," Rorrison's reply is, "Yes, and you will have another thirty rejected if they are of the same kind. You beginners seem able to write nothing but your views on politics, and your reflections on art, and your theories on life, which you sometimes even think original. Editors won't have that, because their readers don't want it. Every paper has its regular staff of leader-writers, and what is wanted from the outsider is freshness. An editor tosses aside your column and a half about evolution, but is glad to have a paragraph saying that you saw Herbert Spencer the day before yesterday gazing solemnly for ten minutes in a milliner's window. Fleet Street at this moment is simply running with men who want to air their views about things in general."

With slight modification the satire applies admirably to women. Perhaps women are not so anxious as men to air their views about things in general (though they are tolerably anxious), but they are certainly too prone to write down vaguely their vague fancies about things in general. Fleet Street at this moment (to use Rorrison's expressive phrase) is simply running with women who are writing fanciful essays and not selling them because editors don't want fanciful essays--or indeed any sort of essays.

Let us see this fact clear: editors have little use for essays and they have no use for views (except their own). 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.

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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:--

"Is there copy here?"

This attitude may and must be cultivated to such an extent that instead of vainly searching for subjects, you are at a loss to choose among the multitude of ideas for articles which suggest themselves at every turn of existence.

I will illustrate what I mean.

In the first place, it is necessary to remember that articles are divided into two classes--those which are not topical and those which are. Daily papers subsist almost exclusively upon the latter; other papers require both.

We will take the non-topical articles first. These, since they do not spring naturally from passing events, must be suggested by the occurrences of one's everyday life. Thus:--

You get up in the morning.

"Queer ways of sleeping." For Tit-Bits and its class. Material at British Museum.

"My alarum." Humorous.

"How to economise space in a small bedroom." For a women's paper.

"Where some Queens sleep." About the sleeping apartments of sovereigns. Ample material in biographies and periodical literature.

"Does a woman require more sleep than a man?" For the silly season.

"Is breakfast in bed enjoyable?" Ditto.

You walk downstairs.

"Some famous staircases."

"Stair-climbing as a form of indoor exercise."

"How to decorate a staircase inexpensively."

You sit down to breakfast.

"Our newsboy." Humorous.

"Papa at breakfast." Ditto.

"The proper way of making coffee." (There is always a market for this kind of thing.)

"How a cup and saucer are made."

"Should the English breakfast be abolished?"

And so on throughout the day.

I put forward these suggestions, not to be worked out, but merely to indicate how notions for articles should come to life in you. A constant effort to evolve ideas in this way cannot fail to be fruitful, and though most of the ideas will be cast aside as valueless, a few promising ones will remain. On no account abandon good articles because you fear they have been done before. Rorrison said: "Of course they have, but do them in your own way; the public has no memory, and besides, new publics are always springing up."

Topical articles are possibly more shy of suggesting themselves than non-topical, but on the other hand they always have a better chance of acceptance. Notions for these cluster about every event or personage that happens to be in the public eye. Suppose we are in April, and the Covent Garden Opera is to open in a month's time. At such a moment editors are naturally susceptible to articles bearing on the subject. For example:--

"Earnings of operatic stars."

"Whims of operatic stars."

Anecdotes (in paragraphic form) relating to any of the singers engaged. These three could be worked up from files of newspapers, particularly of American newspapers.

"How an opera chorus is trained." Material for this might be obtained from intelligent women-members of the chorus, interviewed on the spot.

Notes on the new operas to be produced.

Notes about composers and conductors.

"The Fortunes of Covent Garden Theatre." A historic-anecdotal article. Material at the British Museum.

Notes about the titled box-holders for the season. Material to be obtained from the theatre officials.

And about ninety-nine similar articles.

In the matter of topical articles, I must quote once more from When a Man's Single. Simms told Rob Angus "that when anything remarkable occurred in London he should at once do an article at the British Museum on the times the same thing had happened before." This kind of article, if delivered promptly, almost invariably finds a market; but it must be delivered promptly. Then, of course, there are the fixed and movable feasts--Christmas, Easter, &c.,--for which seasonable articles are required. Seasonable articles about these too trite festivals the editor must have (though he would much prefer to dispense with them), and he accepts the least hackneyed suggestions which offer themselves.

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Wide as the field for copy already is, it widens, as I have said, continually. In America it is always somewhat wider than in England, and a perusal of the Sunday editions of the leading New York papers, the Herald, World, Sun, Journal, &c. (which may be obtained in London), will not be profitless to the alert student. These huge and flaring productions have objectionable features which are only too obvious, but they are conducted by the cleverest journalists in the world, and the invaluable journalistic instinct is apparent on every page of them. The splendid pertinacity and ingenuity of the American journalist in wringing copy out of any and every side of existence cannot fail to quicken the pulses of those who are accustomed to the soberer, narrower, sleepier ways of English newspapers. Fleet Street pretends to despise and contemn American methods, yet a gradual Americanising of the English press is always taking place, with results on the whole admirable.

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Photography is an aid to the outside contributor. Illustrations always assist an article; sometimes they are sufficient to make an unsaleable article saleable. Many articles are capable of being illustrated by means of the camera, and almost any photographic pictures are capable of being "written round." For example, a series of pictures, with brief letterpress, under the title, "The Strand from dawn to dusk," showing incidents of traffic, such as a horse down, &c., would be easily disposed of to an illustrated weekly; such photographs could be taken instanteously on a bright day without any difficulty whatever.

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The foregoing remarks on the search for copy are of course addressed to the aspirant living in London, who possesses immense advantages over her rural sister. She has, chiefly, the British Museum, that blessed fount of universal information, and her first duty must be to apply to the Chief Librarian for a reading ticket. Some time will elapse before she is able to use handily the vast apparatus here placed at her disposal, but she will find the officials benignantly omniscient, and always ready to help the unskilled in research. Also, she must not be shy of going into the world and collecting such facts as she may require, ferreting things out, and refusing to be abashed. So soon as she has contributed to a few papers of standing, she should have some cards engraved with her name, and a list of these papers after the words "Contributor to." Such a card will constitute sufficient credentials on any expedition of enquiry, and will frequently aid her to obtain interviews with "people of importance in their day." Interviews, it need scarcely be said, are most popular with the average editor.

The provincial aspirant is less fortunately placed, though if she resides in a large town with a good public library, she may manage tolerably well. It is the woman sepulchred in a small village who finds herself most severely handicapped. Still, I know instances of women so situated who have gained the position of regular contributors to journals of dignity. Their success has been usually due to specialising on some single topic or group of topics, such as "nature notes," "household affairs," "country occupations," "parochial management," "home handiwork," "village sketches," and so on. There is copy even in a village. A woman afflicted with journalistic ambitions once wrote to an editor complaining that she was out of the world, actually two miles from a shop. "Then write an article," the editor replied, "entitled 'Two miles from a shop.'" She did so; it was accepted and followed by others of a similar kind.

The Art of Corresponding with an Editor

Women contributors are commonly much too fond of corresponding with editors. When the aspirant dispatches the first article, it is quite customary for her to send it under cover of a long epistle (not unfrequently extending to eight pages) in which she gives her personal history in brief, and a short statement of her literary ambitions, including in particular her ambition to contribute to "your excellent paper which I have always admired"; often she adds that though not dependant (so she spells the word) upon her own efforts for a livelihood, she is nevertheless anxious to earn a little money; or it may be that she is in fact thrown upon her own resources, in which case she explains that she has turned to journalism as the readiest means of providing for herself. Sometimes she ventures to hope that the editor will judge her work leniently, since she is only a beginner. Sometimes, with affecting candour, she avows that she does not expect for a moment to be accepted. Sometimes she requests that in case of refusal the editor will advise her where next to send the manuscript. Sometimes she begs for a frank criticism, and if the editor is foolish enough to justify his heartless refusal by such a criticism, she pesters the devoted fellow with another long letter of thanks, in which she timidly suggests that he may be able to assist her further, but hopes that he will not trouble to send any answer unless it is quite, quite convenient to him to do so. He doesn't.

In her pre-occupation, she usually forgets either to write her name and address on the manuscript or to enclose stamps; occasionally she omits even to stamp her own letter.

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Let this be your rule: Don't write to an editor. He has an objection to both reading letters and answering them; he thinks he does enough when he peruses your manuscript. A good article requires no explanation; it should be its own commentary. Be content, therefore, simply to put your article in an envelope with another envelope, and dispatch it. The editor needs not to be told that it is sent for publication if suitable and for return if unsuitable. And he does not care a pin what are your ambitions and your circumstances; or whether this is your "very first" or your ten thousandth effort; whether you have written in the flush of health or on your dying couch; whether you are starving or beautifully rich. What are these facts to him? They do not in the least affect the value of the article. If it pleases him, he accepts; if not, he refuses. He is scarcely Adviser-in-Chief to the Literary Ladies of Great Britain, nor yet the Charity Organisation Society. He has no interest in you. What interests him is his circulation, his influence, his advertisement department.

The editorial notices of a few papers state that the title and scope of an article must be submitted before the article itself. This is absurd, and in most cases you are safe in ignoring the regulation. An article cannot be judged by its title and a resumé of it, and there is no doubt that editors who enforce such a rule often decline to see articles which would have suited them.

If for any special reason a letter should be essential, make it brief, explicit, and formal; spend as much care over the letter as you have given to the article which it is to cover. See that it contains no superfluous words, and see that it is correctly spelt; some letters aren't.

When a series of articles is in contemplation or a novel departure to be suggested, it sometimes happens that a rather elaborate explanation is necessary. Do not send such an explanation in writing until you have demonstrated the impossibility of seeing the editor in person.

Now editors do not like being seen, and certainly they do not like being seen by the casual contributor. Despite the fact that this persevering person is indispensable to them and often their best friend, they fall into the habit of regarding the casual contributor as their natural enemy, against whom warfare is to be waged. It is ridiculous, but it is true. So be it. Accept the situation, and fight for yourself, taking your advantage where you can, and casting away scruples of punctilio. By actually seeing an editor you gain a double advantage. For in the first place it is much more difficult for him to refuse viva voce (especially to a woman [Footnote: I by no means suggest that a woman should exploit her femininity in order to gain points against a man.]) than by letter, and in the second place a personal explanation of a scheme is likely to be much more effective than a written one. Therefore resolve to see your editor face to face.

That editors are invisible is taken for granted only by the inexperienced. Without doubt editors love to surround themselves with an atmosphere of mystery, aloofness, and sovereignty, but in truth they are human beings, and may be so treated. The invisibility of editors is mainly a legend. If you call at a newspaper office and, presenting your card, ask in a firm voice to see the editor, the probability is that you will see him, or some one else clothed with authority. You may be requested to state the nature of your business, in which case you will make the nature of your business as vague and enticing as possible. Possibly the editor, if he is timid, will invent the story that he is engaged; possibly he may really be engaged; in either case you will ask for an appointment, or wait; a personal interview is worth waiting for. If you are refused an appointment and also told that to wait would be useless, say that you will call to-morrow or the next day in the hope of the editor being then disengaged. In any event, be pertinacious; and do not fear to worry the man. By pertinacity you will eventually see him.

Having at last got sight of your editor, treat him considerately. Since you have conquered you can afford to show mercy. Explain yourself tersely, and let your visit be brief. Strive to impress by your directness and business-like thought and action.

Notes on the Leading Types of Papers

In a previous chapter I have emphasised the urgency of examining with care and regularity all the principal papers. Nothing is more important to the outside contributor than a thorough comprehension of their various policies and their essential differences. Many beginners, with a quite creditable literary technique, render all effort futile by omitting to study what I may call the characters of the publications to which they offer MSS. They know papers (except the one or two which they happen to read for pleasure) merely by name. They may by chance have some dim notion, gathered from hearsay, of the aim and spirit of this paper or that--but accurate, direct information concerning these things, they possess none. Having written an article, they send it to the first paper whose name enters their heads, without giving a single thought to the question of suitability. By such beginners the Standard, the Sun, and the Morning Advertiser are recognised merely as so many dailies, the Saturday Review, Tit-Bits, and the Bazaar merely as so many weeklies, and the Strand, Macmillan's Magazine, and the Fortnightly merely as so many monthlies; and no doubt when their stuff has been refused by the Standard, they blithely forward it to the Sun, and so on.

Since the early failures of every aspirant are without doubt largely due to the neglect of this branch of journalistic learning, let me once more lay stress on the fact that every paper differs from every other paper in its needs--in what it demands from the outside contributor. Each paper has its own public, its own policy, its own tone, its own physiognomy, its own preferences, its own prejudices. These must be studied--as one would study a subject like zoology. And as in zoology, to acquire a useful knowledge, it is necessary to classify. The press divides itself naturally into a few distinctive groups, an acquaintance with whose characteristics will form the best, indeed the only, foundation for that wide, detailed erudition ultimately to be obtained through years of experience and observation. Of these groups I will briefly mention the most important.

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Perhaps of all the different kinds of papers, that most useful to the beginner is the "popular weekly" class, chiefly represented by Tit-Bits, Answers, Pearson's Weekly, Cassell's Saturday Journal, and Success. These papers pay liberally and promptly (one or two of them before publication), and they do not exact from the contributor a high literary standard. Their matter falls into two main divisions: articles beginning with "How"--broadly, "How the other half lives;" and articles enumerating curious facts and incidents--for example, "Peers who have become Cabmen." If you can evolve novel and striking subjects, and have the patience to collect such information as may be necessary to work the subjects out, you may fairly rely upon gaining entrance sooner or later to the columns of these papers, however elementary your technique. Here is also a busy market for short melodramatic stories--stories for which "action" and a certain ingenuity of plot are the only essentials. Do not imagine that the editors of this sort of periodical are easily pleased. Although they care nothing for the graces of style, they know precisely what they want, and they insist on getting it.

Next to the popular penny weeklies as prey meet for the aspirant, I name the three "Gazettes," the Pall Mall, the Westminster, and the St. James's. These--the first two especially--make a point of their hospitality to the outside contributor. They appeal of course to a cultured class, and they are catholic in their tastes--ready for anything provided it is topical and well done. They pride themselves on being literary, and therefore good style is essential. In this particular, and also in their habits of returning rejected MSS. with promptness, and of paying regularly without demanding the delivery of an account, they differ from most of the penny morning papers. With them may be bracketed the Globe and the Evening Standard, both celebrated in Grub Street for a regular daily un-editorial article, to which I have referred in Chapter VI. When you have contributed a "turnover" to the Globe, you may congratulate yourself. The Evening Standard article has less pretensions.

Save as receptacles for short stories of a lurid inferior kind, the halfpenny evening papers have little interest for the outside contributor. The Echo is an exception, showing a fondness for short, quiet, topical articles of a rather serious nature.

Among morning papers, the most attractive to the outside contributor is the Daily Mail, one of the best-edited newspapers in the world. The Daily Mail does not ask itself on receiving an unsolicited contribution: "Is it our custom to publish things of this kind"? No, it scorns precedent and is always anxious for novelty. It demands absolute freshness, a great deal of verve, and the strictest brevity. It makes a feature of very short interviews and articles on topics of the hour. On its seventh page, under the title "The Daily Magazine," room is usually found for matter of a general nature--glorified Tit-Bits confections. If the Daily Mail has a weakness, it is for statistical articles of an international character, illustrated by ingenious diagrams--articles in which Great Britain by hook or by crook is made to surpass and outvie every other country.

Another halfpenny morning paper, The Morning, has burst the fetters of precedent and usage, and willingly considers every suggestion of originality. Its methods are those of New York and frankly sensational.

The penny morning papers are difficult of access, relying chiefly on bands of regular contributors. The least hide-bound are the Daily Chronicle and the Daily News. On Saturday the former has a women's page, for which it accepts outside contributions with some freedom. The Daily News has a reputation for humorous articles dealing with the domesticities.

Of the illustrated sixpenny weeklies, Black and White and the Sketch are usually ready to consider short stories, dialogues, interviews, and light articles, the Sketch being the more exigent of the two. The Illustrated London News and the Graphic depend for matter upon their own staffs and regular correspondents, and I believe that neither accepts any fiction from outsiders. To the politico-literary weeklies, Saturday Review, Speaker, and Spectator, the aspirant need not turn her ambitious eye. They are fastidious; they demand advanced technique, and moreover they touch subjects with which women are not often conversant. Of the three, the Speaker is the least exclusive.

With the vast hordes of religious papers (it is stated that several hundred are published in London alone) I shall make no attempt to deal. But it may be well to say that many of them pay very badly and many of them do not pay at all. The best, speaking from a journalistic point of view, is the British Weekly, a Nonconformist journal which prints all sorts of things, and which is edited with brilliant skill; unfortunately it has the bad habit of not returning rejected articles.

As regards the comic weekly press, not much falls to be said. It may be separated into three divisions. First, Punch (threepence), which for several decades has stood, and still stands, quite alone. It is usual to say that Punch has of late years been steadily losing its reputation, but the truth of the statement seems at least doubtful; and however this may be, indubitably Punch is yet the foremost comic weekly. Though it depends in the main upon a regular staff, its doors are not locked against the outside contributor. Second, Judy (recently edited by a woman), Fun, Moonshine, and Pick-Me-Up (one penny). Like Punch, all these papers, except Pick-Me-Up, are noticeably conservative in their policies, and continue to move in the old grooves. They do not, I imagine, offer much opportunity to the outside contributor. Pick-Me-Up devotes itself to the humour of the music-hall, and is probably not largely beholden to women for its sprightliness. Third, the halfpenny organs of wit, represented by Comic Cuts, and twenty other sorts of Cuts. If a woman considers herself destined for the comic press, her wisest course is to collaborate with an artist. A joke may be the best and most original joke in the world, but it will not have a very safe chance of acceptance unless it is illustrated. The illustration per se may be without talent; no matter; mediocre pictures have certainly been instrumental in selling innumerable jokes. And as with jokes, so with "skits," satires, and parodies: the writer must combine with the artist if success is to be reached.

Monthly magazines divide themselves into three classes:--First, the purely popular,--Strand, Ludgate, Pearson's, Windsor, Woman at Home, Lady's Realm, &c. Second, the high-class general,--Blackwoods', Pall Mall, Macmillans' Cornhill, Longmans', &c. Third, the reviews,--Nineteenth Century, Contemporary, Fortnightly, National, and Westminster. Of these three classes, the aspirant is likely to succeed best with the second, since the first demands names of renown, and the third either expert knowledge, scholarship, or high technique.

I have left to the last the women's papers, which are, in the natural order of things, written chiefly by women. It is of course to be expected that women-aspirants should turn first to women's papers, of whose characteristics they should certainly make a special and minute study, but at the same time I must repeat the warning already given against the habit of dealing only with subjects interesting to or connected with the female sex. Women's papers are sharply divided into two classes--those which appeal to women of education and breeding, and those which appeal to women of a lower social status. To the former group belong the Queen, the Lady's Pictorial, the Gentlewoman (sixpence), Hearth and Home and the Lady (threepence), and Woman (one penny). To the latter belong Home Chat, Home Notes, and their countless imitators.

The beginner must bear in mind the essential differences between these two groups, which, in catering for quite different tastes, necessarily follow widely divergent policies. Both groups pay reasonably well, and it may be said that all women's papers of any reputation whatever give a considerate ear to the outside contributor. The sixpennies, having what amounts to unlimited room, offer to the aspirant a spacious and delightful field.

"Woman's Sphere" in Journalism

There are certain departments of journalism which women have always had, and probably will always have, to themselves: I mean the departments comprising fashion, cookery and domestic economy, furniture, the toilet, and (less exclusively) weddings and what is called society news. It is unlikely that men will ever seriously compete with women in the business of supplying the stuff which women as a sex are supposed to read. My own belief is that men could deal very capably with these subjects, or most of them, if they chose to assume the task; but there happens to be a superstition that such matters are beyond a man's scope; men accept the superstition, and leave them alone. Hence the distinctive "woman's sphere" in journalism.

Now almost all the work falling within this sphere is done badly--with a lack of technical skill which can only be described as shameful. I have argued (in Chapter II.) that the defect is attributable to the early training which women receive. A further explanation lies in the fact that, in their particular field, they are never stimulated to improvement by the sight of better performances than their own; the result, viewed dispassionately, is deplorable.

In the first place, nearly all women's work dealing with feminine subjects is in a special degree disfigured by slipshod writing. This is particularly true of fashion articles, which are on the whole worse written even than police reports in country newspapers. Of the scores of fashion articles appearing week by week in journals of standing, not five per cent. would pass muster as the work of men. I take up, for an example, one of the "great London dailies," containing a short signed contribution by a journalist whose fame as a chronicler of modes is unrivalled, a lady who earns the wage of a Cabinet Minister, and has indeed arrived at the highest places in her profession; and I find in the article the following--shall I call them?--lapses from the rectitude of sound writing.

Hackneyed phrases and quotations:--

"Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest."

"Inclines towards the portly."

"De rigueur."

"Hold on our affections."

"Ignore the charms of."

Strange word:--

"Becomingness."

Bad punctuation:--

"So that such a jacket be cut well and worn by a woman of fairly slim proportions round the waist and hips it will be exceedingly successful, but she who inclines towards the portly should rigidly ignore the charms of the jacket with the belt." Unless this sentence has a comma after "well," it bears a meaning quite different from what the writer intended; it needs also a comma after "hips" and a semicolon after "successful."

Words wrongly used:--

"It is one of the earnest principles of my faith to commend fashion." A principle cannot be earnest, and faith cannot be an action. The writer probably means that she sincerely thinks it her duty to commend fashion.

"There are only two hats well worn in Paris just now--this style and the small velvet toque trimmed with a group of plumes." For "well," read "largely" or "extensively." Note the other fault in this sentence.

Wrong or clumsy constructions, laxity in the use of metaphors, &c.:--

"[We may] read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest their different charms." Fancy reading or learning or digesting a charm!

"I have no objection to the lion lying down with the lamb--the Persian lamb--or rather, I should say, to the sable being allied to this fur, or to the combination of black caracule, or sable with ermine; any two furs, or indeed three furs, put together, I recognise as appropriate and elegant, but the frivolous working of furs with coloured satins and silks now obtaining the affections of the many is not at all to my taste." To comment on this piece of composition would be wicked.

"There is a great fancy shown by the authorities this year to elaborate furs." In English one says "take a fancy to" but "show a fancy for."

"It is small wonder that the fashion has obtained such a hold on our affections, because it is so becoming if it is not overdone."

"A single row of white pearls next the fair or even dark throat of a woman has always a beneficial effect upon her complexion." Has a woman then two throats?

"And talking about a beneficial effect upon a woman's complexion, let me mention once again the exceeding becomingness of the new shades of blue, these being rather of the sugar-paper order of blue, but a little lighter in colour perhaps, yet having that vivid tone about it. This is freely mixed with dark blue, the lighter shade being used for making trimmings to bodices, or indeed to make an entire bodice, while the dark cloth forms the skirt and coat. The hat which completes it will take every shade of blue." Observe particularly the two "its" and the "this," neither of which refers properly to any substantive.

So much for the craftsmanship of one of our most celebrated women-journalists! When such a person, writing over her own name in the columns of a renowned and powerful paper, may thus brazenly ignore the elementary principles of composition, it may be guessed what latitude of carelessness and error is allowed to obscurer performers in obscurer sheets.

* * * * *

It is not only in the apparently trivial but really important details of style that women's work falls short, but in qualities even more vital. Fashion, to refer again to that branch of journalism, is a complicated and difficult subject, requiring for its adequate treatment the utmost orderliness and lucidity. Yet fashion articles are seldom arranged with any skill, and seldom lucid. The subject is usually handled after a haphazard method resulting in misty paragraphs of which often not even the writers could explain the meaning. It is said that men cannot understand fashion articles. Certainly they cannot, but the fault is not theirs. Over and over again I have heard expert fashion-journalists confess that they had failed to comprehend the writings of their colleagues. If articles on dress were properly done, men could understand, though they might not be interested in them.

Fashion gives the widest scope for the journalist's art. The constant change, the bewildering variety of it, offer opportunities for descriptive and critical work which, if they were seized, might result in articles as interesting, as accomplished, as distinguished, as any in the literary reviews. But these opportunities are uniformly missed.

Cookery, that is to say practical cookery, gives fewer opportunities than fashion for the display of merely literary skill. It is a subject which demands from the journalist clearness and thoroughness. The average cookery article may be passably clear so far as it goes, but it is rarely thorough, and so it fails in usefulness. Writers upon cookery in women's papers have been content, without thinking upon what is really wanted, to follow the methods of cookery books, ignoring the truism that cookery books, by reason of their omissions and silences, are valuable only to efficient cooks, who stand in no deep need of them. It is to the inexperienced cook that cookery articles are designed to appeal, and therefore they should be exhaustive, describing processes exactly, measuring quantities with precision, taking nothing for granted, leaving nothing to the imagination. That cookery articles, even if read, are certainly not acted upon, is proved by the monotony of the suburban dinner. And they are not acted upon because the reader finds them incomplete, "sketchy," and superficial.

It would be possible to take all the other subjects coming within "woman's sphere" in journalism, and to show that women have failed in the treatment of them to reach even a moderate standard of competence. Look, for another instance, at the reports of weddings and society entertainments, all done after one execrable model, dull and perfunctory.

* * * * *

I bring this general indictment in order that the eyes of the aspirant may be opened to the opportunities which await her. A brilliant future lies before the woman who will devote to these neglected women's subjects skilled craftmanship and the enthusiasm of an artist, of which surely they are as worthy as anything else in journalism. At present it seems as if the women who write for women are content to remain all their lives mere amateurs of the pen; the one who first puts herself to the trouble of becoming an expert may rely upon making a sensation in the world of editors.