CHAPTER IX
Effect
Self-flattery is indigenous to man. We like to flatter ourselves that our musings produce a desirable effect but we do not often know the complexion of this effect. What, for instance, shall it be in the case of serious-minded men and women interested in creating short stories and in the aspect of our literary field generally who have read sympathetically the preceding pages? If books are stimuli what shall this particular reaction be?
A few suggestions may not be amiss. They are in a measure a recapitulation of the thoughts expressed, but I like to think of them as formulated by my ideal reader as his more or less conscious artistic credo:
1. I believe that the short story is first of all a form of literature, not merely an article of manufacture.
2. Literature is a form of self-expression. I am a living entity, sensitive to the play and interplay of forces in and all about me. Life in the form of man, of institutions, of passions and ideas affects me and I would reproduce and interpret it. I would clarify it to myself; I would create for the love of creating, for the beauty of it, for the gratification of the creative urge within me.
3. I recognize no plots that are not derived from the life which I know, which is in and about me; nor any characters which are not derived from and tested by that life.
4. In all my work I have a desire to be truthful, rather than merely clever; simple rather than pretentious; natural rather than surprising. I would voice no thought nor emotion which is alien to my mind and temperament.
5. The genuineness of a view or an emotion is its justification. Truth and spontaneity are more to me than commercial artifice and success. There is no shame in failure except in so far as it implies a departure from standards of artistic honesty.
6. I recognize no taboos. Every phase of life is a worthy theme; every experience known to man is a worthy plot. Things which have interested me have interested other people and I seek to communicate my personal vision to the world. I recognize no valid reason for withholding any part of my vision merely because it may prove unpleasant, uncustomary or unprofitable to some reader. I do not force him to read my work.
7. Nor do I recognize that I have any right, for any reason whatsoever, to color the stuff of life, the reality of which I write. The measure of my success is the measure in which I can make my reality the reality of those who would read me.
8. The standard of my opinions and emotions is contained within me. I refuse to modify them, to render them less objectionable, or more innocuous, or more in conformity with the standard of the moving pictures or the specifications of any editor, critic, teacher or good friend.
9. I recognize no subject which is rooted in life as either moral or immoral. Every phase of existence is a legitimate theme for the artist, and its morality or immorality is a matter of the reader’s own interpretation.
10. I am not afraid of being either pessimistic or optimistic. My moods and ideas are my own and will not be changed to suit the buyer.
11. I am not afraid of being either radical or conservative, depressive or “exhilarating,” religious or agnostic, constructive or destructive. The fearless presentation of one’s honest views is a virtue in itself.
12. I have no fear of displeasing any one, of displeasing even a majority of readers, editors, critics, citizens. I have faith that there is always a fearless minority willing to hear an honest word; that there are always some avenues for the transmission of the independent vision. Frequently this minority in time grows to a majority—and another rebellious minority takes its place.
13. I believe that all technique is but a means toward effective expression. No tricks are of any value in themselves. No puzzles or jugglings with life’s experiences are of any avail, and no technique is worthy of art except in so far as it furthers clarification and artistic presentation of my message.
14. I believe that all the instruction I can get can only be in the way of developing facility of expression. No teacher or textbook can teach me the stuff out of which literature is made.
15. I believe that style is “of the man himself,” that it comes from within, that no amount of imitation of O. Henry can give me O. Henry’s cleverness, and that no amount of style, even my own, can cover a lack of substance.
16. There is only one ending that my story can have. It may be happy or unhappy or merely logical. Every problem imposes its own solution. I can dictate no dénouement, for the characters involved work out their own destiny acceptable to them or to the inevitability of their problem.
17. I believe that if I am myself I am original. My life is different from the life of any one else. Manufacturing startling or spectacular originality is impossible. There is only one theme at bottom of all stories and that is Life. It is only the way I look at it which you do not know.
18. Finally I believe that each artist after all works in his own way. My way may be as good as the ways of other writers and will surely suit my moods and my thoughts better. Each of us in his own way merely tries to state and to clarify the tragedy and comedy, the ugliness and the beauty of the things he knows and lives and feels.
19. The short story is but another medium for the expression of my reaction to the business of living. I refuse to be a clown entertaining the gallery.
20. If I depart from this credo and write what commercial policy may dictate rather than my artistic self I shall not be afraid to acknowledge the inferior character of the product rather than label it as literature. My conscience is no coward, even in defeat.
The End