Part 26
_The Dial._ 152 West 13th Street, New York City.
DETECTIVE STORY MAGAZINE
_Detective Story Magazine_ is a weekly publication. It is therefore a large market, and is constantly in need of short stories of 2,500 to 6,000 or 7,000 words, novelettes of 12,000 or 15,000, and novels of 25,000 words. Serials should run from 36,000 to 100,000 words in length, and break up approximately in about 12,000 word installments.
It must not be deduced that only detective stories are needed for this publication. When one speaks of a detective story we think of a narrative which begins with the murder of somebody, the police being called in, and then the efforts of the police or the efforts of some wise investigator of crime to solve the mystery of who killed the deceased. Of course, this story with variations--if it is well done--is always acceptable. While we are dealing with it we might say that, in general, such stories are divided into two types, one in which the method is the predominating theme, and the other in which the motive is played up prominently. The first type of story suggests the puzzle. There is always a type of mind which revels in puzzles. A person mysteriously disappears from a room, and after wading through 60,000 or 70,000 words, mostly questions and answers, we learn that the method of removing the body was through, we will say, the fireplace, which was on hinges. Of course, this is the easiest type of detective story to write, and, as is quite obvious, it is written backwards. We mean by that, an author first evolves an ingenious method of killing some one, or of removing some one, and then builds about this a story, leaving the disclosure of the method of killing or removal to the end of the story. We think a far better way to do this story, and a way that interests more people, is to have the motive the predominating feature. The method by which, we will say, a young woman disappears, either through her own efforts or through the efforts of others, is interesting enough in its way, but that which interests the public generally, and her friends in particular, is not how she disappeared, so much as why she disappeared.
Now to take up the other types of stories that _Detective Story Magazine_ is interested in: We are glad to consider any story into which crime enters. When one stops to consider a moment, one must realize how important a feature crime is in the life of every person. In using the word crime, we mean deception in any form. All persons constantly resort to some types of deception. Thus the crime story, so called, lends itself to an infinite variety of situations from the Atlantic to the Pacific. For instance, in almost every family there is the urge for money, in many for the bare necessities of life, while in others simply for more luxury. Thus hundreds of thousands of persons are being sorely tempted every day to deceive. The stories of their temptations cannot help, if well told, but be interesting. Above all things in a detective story or a crime story, the narrative must get on, move along. While character work is much desired, it is demanded that this type of story have suspense and be written in such a way that one is urged on from page to page to see what is going to happen next. While this can be accomplished without dramatic situations and unexpected happenings occurring every so often, it is usually found necessary to resort to these methods for keeping up interest. Authors must not fall into the common mistake, however, of feeling that when we say a story should get on we simply mean that there should be action, physical movement in it. Running up and down stairs alone does not make for excitement, but very often does make for confusion. Also, saying that people are excited or nervous or in fear does not interest the reader very much. The author must show by the actions of his characters that they are excited or frightened. A crime story, then, is one which gets on, has plenty of strong situations, and in which the motive, conflict, is the dominating feature. It is, perhaps, needless to add that in a crime story the author must be fair to his readers--that is, he must not explain the mystery by introducing a reason for the commission of the crime of which the reader has not been made aware.
F. E. BLACKWELL.
_Detective Story Magazine._ STREET AND SMITH, 79 Seventh Avenue, New York City.
EVERYBODY’S MAGAZINE
That word “Everybody’s” is the watchword of _Everybody’s_ fiction. And what it means is simply that in choosing stories the editors of _Everybody’s_ bear in mind an audience of “regular folks,” with a large variety of tastes and with tastes for different things at different times. We are not thinking specifically of business men. Nor specifically of professional men. Nor of women merely as club members. Nor of women merely as housewives. We are thinking of the splendid average of folks, with normal human interests and normal human emotions. And we take stories with a view to offering in each number a well-balanced ration of these interests and emotions, stories of love, adventure, business, sentiment, children, humor, sport; of city and country; of rich and poor.
The only types of stories that are barred are those that lack wide contact with the average human experience--that depict fantastic or morbid or unreal motives or isolated emotional reactions. This does not necessarily bar an occasional use of morbid experience, soundly based--such as “The Wrists on the Door,” by Horace Fish, a horror story, strange and fantastic in atmosphere, with a big truth at the bottom of it.
It is our guess that the largest group of people reads for sheer entertainment, and with two motives--unconscious, perhaps; either to gain a heightened sense of their own situations, their own personalities through reading stories of their own sort of life; or to be transported by reading as by magic from their own environment into another world. And we have a notion that, as the worry and perplexity of life increase, the eagerness to _gain escape_ through reading increases too. That is why _Everybody’s_ has stressed stories of adventurous action--such as Charles Saxby’s “In Camera,” Clarence B. Kelland’s “Cheese in the Trap,” David Churchill’s “Igor’s Trail,” Edison Marshall’s “The Elephant Remembers.” That is the reason for an intensification of the search for humor--for Dorothy De Jagers’ cheerful New York stories and for Samuel Hopkins Adams’ “Cab Sir?” reprinted in this volume as a story on which _Everybody’s_ readers expressed themselves with cordial approval.
At the same time--paradoxical as it may seem--_Everybody’s_ has not barred war stories. We do not believe it is possible to ask real writers to shut the doors on the most tremendous experience of their lives--and still do their best work. We hold a high standard for war stories, but the story itself is the test and such a piece of work as James Hopper’s “The Scoop of Charles Hamilton Potts” goes over as easily as a love idyll.
As for length, there is no rigid requirement. Short stories are preferred, in order to make possible the maximum of variety in each number, but ten thousand words won’t kill a story of our sort that is worth--ten thousand words.
Cleanness is a requisite--cleanness without priggishness or sentimental dishonesty; open-eyed wholesomeness that strengthens one’s faith in human nature.
VIRGINIA RODERICK.
_Everybody’s Magazine._ Spring and Macdougal Streets, New York City.
FARM AND FIRESIDE
We want good fiction for _Farm and Fireside_, and we will pay good money for it. The only kind we don’t want is the extreme stuff--sexy-pink-tea and blood-and-thunder. We don’t demand a farm setting. Aside from that, we have no specifications. Just one request:
If you are not interested in selling your best stories to a publication that is made for men and women who farm, please do not waste your postage and our time.
As to length--3,000 to 5,000 words for short stories, and up to 10,000 for two-part, and 15,000 for three-part serials.
We pay on acceptance, price to fit quality; no limit.
Address Editor, _Farm and Fireside_, 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
GEORGE MARTIN.
_Farm and Fireside._ THE CROWELL PUBLISHING CO., 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City.
THE FORUM
_The Forum_ is not publishing fiction. My own personal view, however, is that a serious magazine should print some fiction, and in the course of time _The Forum_ will.
If I should be the one selecting the fiction by that time, I would look for intelligence and imagination.
GEORGE HENRY PAYNE.
_The Forum._ 118 East 28th Street, New York City.
HARPER’S MAGAZINE
_Harper’s Magazine_ is constantly seeking the work of new writers, and it probably publishes more stories by hitherto unknown writers than any other fiction periodical of reputable standing.
_Harper’s Magazine_ has no editorial prejudices, and does not ask its contributors to make their work conform to any fixed or arbitrary specifications. There is no such thing as a “Harper type” of story. Any story is acceptable which in dignity of conception and quality of workmanship has real value, provided it is also interesting.
Stories of a youthful turn, with a glimmer of humor, are particularly desired. Three thousand to seven thousand words is the preferred length.
LEE FOSTER HARTMAN.
_Harper’s Magazine._ Franklin Square, New York City.
JUDGE
_Judge’s_ need is for honest-to-goodness humor, the short story (under a thousand words) that forces a healthy chuckle, the poem that tickles the fancy and stirs the risibles (whatever they are) and the good old-fashioned joke with a modern setting and a sophisticated idea. Clean fun, smart fun, spontaneous fun expressed in any literary form will be acceptable and paid for generously.
_Judge’s_ circulation is booming; that is happening only because this magazine is human, modern, entertaining, American and very often genuinely humorous.
PERRITON MAXWELL.
_Judge._ 225 Fifth Avenue, New York City.
LESLIE’S
At present a great number of Americans, both men and women, are seriously interested in business conditions and its problems. For this reason when we decided to limit our publishing to one type of story--we publish but one story a week, and that of limited length--we decided for the time being to publish only business stories. We prefer those of constructive turn or of such dramatic intensity that interest is compelled. We do not want love stories in a business setting. We do occasionally accept the humorous story, as often a writer in this guise can present a more fundamental truth or give a better picture of actual conditions than could be projected in any other way.
In asking for business stories we do not feel that we are limiting the writer. American business is so broad in scope, so diversified in character, so tied up with the every day life of all of us, it has so many facets of interest, so many angles of approach that any one who writes can surely produce a business story if he or she will. A good business story is bound to be an interesting story, and interest to my mind is after all the aim and end of all fiction writing.
PERRITON MAXWELL.
_Leslie’s._ 225 Fifth Avenue, New York City.
LIFE
_Life’s_ principal need is humor. After humor comes sentiment, and after sentiment, satire. _Life_ will consider original jokes, short (very short) dialogues, epigrams, epigrammatical comments, light verse and manuscripts up to 500 words on subjects of topical or news interest containing these three elements singly or in combination. Before submitting, it is best to make a comprehensive study of what is printed in the magazine and to model the contribution on similar lines. By reason of the seeming simplicity of its contents, _Life_ is constantly receiving contributions which make no pretense at literary preparation and are therefore unavailable.
HENRY WILLIAM HANEMANN.
_Life._ 17 West 31st Street, New York City.
LIVE STORIES
_Live Stories_ is not afraid of ideas. Outside of humor, it insists upon something more than just a good story. Humor, of course, is more than humor only when handled by a master. There are not many masters of humor in America; in fact, neither American writers nor readers have a real sense of humor. They have, mostly, a keen sense of the ridiculous and a really brilliant appreciation of wit. Doubtless the difficulty every editor experiences in getting good humorous stories is thus explained. It also accounts for _Live Stories’_ belief that it is useless to look for an idea in humorous contributions. “There ain’t no such animal” in America, and if there were it is doubtful if the public would appreciate it.
In the list of short stories memorable, one finds that each is based on an _idea_; that is, each is more than a story. “The Fall of The House of Usher,” “They,” “The Man Without a Country,” “Lear of the Steppes,” “A Bit of String,” are striking examples that come readily to mind. The list could be extended to embrace all of the great short stories. O. Henry, you will notice, is not represented here. Indeed, the bulk of O. Henry’s stories are without ideas. Have you never noticed that it is difficult to remember an O. Henry story? The explanation lies in the fact that they are _just_ stories--delightful, captivating, what you will--but they are not intense, compelling an undivided concentration.
_Live Stories_ has, deliberately, gone in for ideas. It was this policy that led it to publish Thomas Grant Springer’s, “The Blood of the Dragon,” a story that won honorable mention by the O. Henry Memorial Committee of the Society of Arts and Sciences. “The Blood of the Dragon” was rejected by a large number of New York editors who, doubtless, were entirely right in their position. Yet this study of the Chinese character will be remembered long after the _stories_ those editors published are forgotten.
To entertain and more, that is the policy of _Live Stories_. It does not want trick stories; it doesn’t want a fabricated and artificial drama; it does not want action simply for action; it does not want weeping authors. It does want the tenseness incident to an inevitable situation. It wants drama, happy or tragic, based upon a fundamental idea. In short, _Live Stories_ wants ideas, clearly, forcibly, dramatically evolved.
GROVE WILSON.
_Live Stories._ THE NEW FICTION PUBLISHING COMPANY, 35-37 West Thirty-ninth Street, New York City.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE
_McCall’s_ finds it hard to specify its standards of the perfect McCall story, because we believe a magazine should cultivate a diversity of story types. A publication with a circulation of over one million and a half, read by people scattered all over the United States, should carefully select from a wide field.
In a short story, we demand first, perhaps that it be a story; that it tell itself convincingly, and interestingly, with its due measure of plot, characterization and charm of style. Honesty and truthfulness in theme and treatment are essential. Though we are opposed to the sentimental and saccharine tale which has been the accepted convention for the woman’s magazine, we believe in romance and adventure and glamour. Life is colored with those three things, and a story is either dull or fantastic unless it bear relation to life.
Although _McCall’s_ is a woman’s magazine, we believe there is no sex in reading, that a woman is not necessarily interested in the old conventionally accepted story in which gilded heroes and heroines pranced through a hectic and golden existence, in which the heroine’s name was always Gwen or Violet, in which the desired male prize was always married off to the poor but noble girl at the consummating altar. Nor need all women’s magazine stories have to do with the abuse of the sacrificial mother or the efforts of an orphan stenographer alone in a great city. Love and money and fame may be fundamental pillars of plots, as of life; but to-day’s woman, even as to-day’s flapper, demands more than the sentimental narration of their intertwinings.
As for the young author, we welcome him--or her. The famous and the arrived have their place, but the world is ever to the oncoming. If there is a germ of a story in any neophyte’s contribution, _McCall’s_ is only too glad to throw all its energies into framing for it a more effective setting.
BESSIE BEATTY.
_McCall’s Magazine._ 236-250 West Thirty-seventh Street, New York City.
McCLURE’S MAGAZINE
It is difficult to frame rigidly the deciding factors in selecting fiction for a magazine that is planned for the general reading public. Any reply that I may make must be human rather than formal.
You see, the work of buying for and making a magazine is a firing line job. Tactics and strategy go into preparation for the battle, but in the strife one does many things because they have to be done.
Reduced to practicality, I buy what I want when I get it.
You will say, to tell you what I want, since I know it. But if I did, you would be misled, for all wants are not constant.
Fundamentals, of course, are, but they are rather the fundamentals of art--an idea to convey, a picture to paint, in short, creation. A creative thought first, then an object modeled with the tools of craftsmanship. Finally, a composition (in the painting rather than the writing sense) that, when looked at from points in a sense afar, tells that the creator wants to tell.
I am trying here, perhaps indistinctly, to state that said creator has to build for perspective. He has to make things, actions and persons _seem_ real. For example, the actor is made up for the appearance he will make to you sitting on the other side of the footlights. He does not strive, in the laying on of paint, for the effect on you standing at his side, but on you more remote. Contrariwise, if he did not make up, he would seem to you in that audience as unreal, and unnatural.
There is a good lesson in this for the young writer, if I can get it over.
It is the distinction between crude photographic reality and the art of reality; it is the proof of the uselessness of writing from life alone, without the craft of employing materials so that the reader (the audience of the theatre) sees the picture not only of the actuality of life, but of the life the author meant that he should see.
Not that the author departs from the rôle of observer and picture maker. The artist is indeed the mirror of nature. That is his function--high and chosen.
He has that which is not given to us of colder blood and thought. His temperature is higher, he sees often what we do not see. Creation is fever, let us say, but after creation comes craft, and that is as cold and critical and laborious as creation is hot.
The actor must be master of himself, tiniest muscle of the finger and act of the mind, to portray the frenzy of emotion. The writer must have the craft to weave texture in sentence and word, to get clarity and simplicity, to lay tone on tone of character lineament, all the while keeping plot a-moving and reader interest unfaltering. No work can be harder than this--even where talent has been granted, and craftsmanship acquired.
Personally, I do not believe that the untalented (persons without creative imagination) should be encouraged to study the mechanics of fiction technique. The waste is in energy which might win success in some other field.
Markets may prove to be lower than the ideals of writers, but that should be the fault of the markets and not of the writers. Nor will this course of faithfulness to ideals fail in recompense in one form or another, for this is the law:
_The best art has the best chance of popularity and the only chance of long life._
Recognition often is delayed, but won in time, generally in due time.
Because, for one thing, it drives through discouragement. If the talent is not hardy enough to do so, the chances are that it is not sufficiently virile to deserve the crown.
In general, money gainful success comes to the talented American writer too soon if not too easily. If one works harder than ever after success has come, no harm is done. And if one stops working, success passes. So the situation, after all, contains its own remedy.
You ask me finally, if I have any suggestion as to what writers should send to a particular magazine. I have noticed for years, that writers study a magazine with the aim of sending it material of the order of which it appears to publish most. For convenience, we will call this a magazine major. I am quite sure the selling method is wrong, and that magazines should be studied for their minors instead. It stands to reason that editors will have more difficulty in supplying the minor balances. Mind, I do not say the lesser, for I am referring to quantity, not quality.
You see, a general magazine circulation may be likened to a circle, divided into segments. No one unit of contents will have appeal for the whole circle. That would be universality, practically impossible to achieve. But it can be aimed at. Certain basic factors are known. One kind of material can be depended upon for a larger segment than another. The smaller segments, however, are no less essential, and more effort will have to be used to fill them than will be used to supply the largest segment. Circulation comes from adding interest to interest--up to the point of harmony. Beyond, of course, lies confusion, but the problem of how far to go and when to stop is an editor’s, not a writer’s. It is sufficient for a writer to be able to know how to take market advantage of an editor’s need of maximum circulation pull from the smaller as well as the larger segments of the circle.
EDGAR SISSON.
_McClure’s Magazine._ 25 West Forty-fourth Street, New York City.
METROPOLITAN
In choosing fiction for a popular magazine one must be sure first of all that the story will appeal to a large audience of readers. It must have the essential quality of holding the attention. A story which the Editor has to make an effort to read is not very likely to receive much attention from any one else. On the other hand, if a story, through qualities of form, construction, style and the needed element of suspense, literally carries one along from page to page, it has at least the first essential quality of a popular magazine story.
Every Editor, of course, will tell you this. We shall not differ a great deal, either, I imagine, in what we say afterward. Every Editor likes dramatic suspense, every Editor likes naturalness and humor in the characters when he can get it.