Writing a Novel

1895

Marion Crawford Describes His Method of Constructing a Story.

"What," I asked Marion Crawford, "is the germ of a novel for you?"

It is a character, and not a situation, which generally suggests a novel to me. I think that in most cases my characters are portraits of real people in imaginary situations. That is why they cannot be recognized by the originals, because they are out of their usual environment. There are two exceptions to this way of conceiving a novel. As I have already told you, 'The Tale of a Lonely Parish' and 'Marzio's Crucifix' were suggested to me by the real background."

"Won't you tell me," I asked, "how you go to work to construct one of your novels? Do you see the end from the beginning and work toward it?"

"Since my first novel or two I always see the end of the story from the start. When I have thought it over in this way, I take a largo sheet of paper, and having decided on the size of the book I make up my mind that it shall have, say, 24 chapters. Along the left margin I mark the numbers of these chapters, one under the other, a line for each. If it is to be in three volumes, as most of my novels are in England, I place a horizontal mark after each eight chapter numbers. That indicates the volume. Then, after the manner of a playwright choosing what he calls his 'curtain situation,' I decide on the culminating incident in each volume, and also decide in which chapter it shall fall, and place a catchword indicating that situation on the line with the chapter number. Then I fill in for the other chapters a catch word or phrase, which indicates the minor incidents in succession that culminate in the major incident. Of course all these things do not come at once, and I may fill in, from time to time, after I have begun the novel, but when the skeleton is comparatively complete I begin the work. Along the right hand margin I write down the calendar of the novel, as it may be called, from day to day. If it is a novel in which the action takes place in a very short time, I write down not only the day of the month and week, but the hour of the day, so that the action of the story may move logically. With this skeleton of the novel before me I write with great rapidity. Indeed I have found that if I write a novel slowly my conception of the leading characters may change from week to week, so that in the end the novel is not artistically so forcible or so complete as those written rapidly. You will understand, of course, that, after the novel is begun, I may have to shift the position of the leading incidents and alter the general arrangement."

"Do you ever dictate?" I asked.

"I dictated one novel under stress of circumstances, and I do not think that I shall over dictate another, for I consider it a relative failure." — McClure's Magazine.


No Cheese For Lunch

It is wretchedly bad form to serve cheese and wafers at luncheon, although one often sees it done. They are alone permissible with the dessert of a dinner, never of a lunch. — Philadelphia Press.


Festivals

A midwinter festival was known and observed in Europe long before the Christmas era.

Dialect in Novels

1895

The Time Coming When Good English Will Be Written.

There are indications — not very marked as yet, but still indications — that the day of the dialect versifier and story teller is waning. The literary epidemic for which he is responsible has raged with unabated virulence in this country for the past ten years or more. But all epidemics exhaust themselves in time, and we are encouraged to believe that this one is nearly spent. A tabulation of the contents of our popular magazines would now, we think, show a smaller proportion of pages unreadable for their bad spelling than would have been disclosed by a similar investigation made two years ago. Many a literary worker is beginning to suspect that to misspell as many words as possible is not exactly the noblest of ambitions. We by no means anticipate the complete disappearance of the dialect element from our imaginative literature, nor would such a reaction be desirable. But we do expect the time to come when dialect shall occupy its proper place in composition and be treated as a means rather than as an end. There is an important distinction between the story written for the sake of dialect and the use of dialect for the sake of the story. The latter practice is as excusable or even praiseworthy as the former is reprehensible.

When used with discrimination and artistic restraint, dialect is, of course, an admissible element in both poetry and fiction. English literature would be far the poorer without the treasures of Scotch dialect preserved in the poems of Burns and the novels of the author of "Waverley." Likewise we could ill spare the work of the Provencal poets from the literature of France, of Goldoni's Venetian comedies from that of Italy or of Reuter's Plattdeutsch tales from that of Germany. Even in our country a similar plea may be made for the language of Hosea Biglow, or of Mr. Cable's creoles, or of Miss Murfree's Tennessee mountaineers. But the swarm of commonplace and uninspired scribblers of dialect that have descended upon our periodical press during the past decade need not hope to find a safe refuge in the shadow of such really significant names as have been cited. Their pretensions are too utterly without warrant and their productions too entirely without justification. — Chicago Dial.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, 66 Today, Has Been Writing 50 years

Nov. 24, 1915

Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, who, in private life, is Mrs. Stephen Townsend, will pass her sixty-sixth milestone today. The popular novelist was born November 24, 1849, in Manchester England, and her maiden name was Frances Eliza Hodgson.

It was just half a century ago that the family moved to Knoxville, Tenn., and shortly after this the girl began the career as a writer which has made her name famous throughout the English speaking world. Although she is now well advanced in years, she has maintained her youthful spirits in fullest measure as evidenced by her latest book, "The Lost Prince," which fairly bubbles with the exuberance and romance of youth. Perhaps Mrs. Burnett has discovered on her annual pilgrimages to "the fairy isles" of Bermuda, the fountain of perpetual youth.

Mrs. Burnett — or Miss Hodgson as she then was — had the joy of seeing her first stories in the magazines when she was only seventeen years old, and ever since she has been a prolific writer. In 1873 she became the bride of Dr L. M. Burnett, and the young couple settled in Washington, which city Mrs. Burnett has since made her home when not in Bermuda or abroad. After a married life of twenty three years Dr. Burnett and his gifted wife agreed to disagree, and Mrs. Burnett obtained a divorce in 1898. Two years later she married another medical man, Dr. Stephen Townsend, an English surgeon, with whom she collaborated in the writing of "Nixie," "A Lady of Quality," and other plays.

Mrs. Burnett's first novel, "That Lass o' Lowrie's," was published in 1877, after she had served a long apprenticeship in writing short stories. Several other volumes followed, and in 1886 she attained an international deputation with her "Little Lord Fauntleroy." "In Connection With the DeWilloughby Claim," "The Dawn of Tomorrow," "A Little Princess," and more than a score of other novels, as well as a number of dramas, have added largely to her army of devoted admirers. Her latest novel, "The Lost Prince," is a fairy tale, breathing chivalrous romance, and a delightful refuge from the workaday world. — By O. Terrence, The Human Procession.

Writer Says Age Doesn't Matter, Keep Going for Success

1921

Emerson Hough Says No "Dead Line" at 40, Former S.U.I. Man

By DALE E. CARRELL

There has long been a sort of "unwritten law," or at least common belief, that if a man didn't make his mark in the world or achieve real success by the time he was 40, he never would. After 40, it has been held, a man simply fights to hold his own or start down-grade.

But, along comes Emerson Hough, and proceeds to rip to pieces this so-called iron-clad rule which would end man's climbing of the ladder of fame at the age of 40. Mr. Hough very emphatically says, there is no dead line at two score "milestones," and the noted author points to his own life as an example and illustration to prove his point.

Emerson Hough is well known personally to many Iowans and Iowa City and University people for he is a graduate of S. U. I, having won his degree in 1880, just 41 years ago. The University of Iowa is very proud of her eminent alumnus and he is just as proud of his alma mater. And, those who do not know Mr. Hough personally, know him thru having read his delightful novel, "The Mississippi Bubble," which made him famous, almost overnight. Therefore, Mr. Hough's declaration will make Hawkeyes, especially, sit up and take notice.

Mr. Hough is now 63 years age and his big success in life did not come until he was 45. Up to the time that success came, he had tried numerous occupations and couldn't make good, or keep happy in any of them, but the former S. U. I. man never once gave up. He soon found, in writing, the real star to follow and he hitched his wagon to it. He is now an author and wealthy. He says "It is within your soul — this question of achievement. It is not decided by the clock or the calendar."

Mr. Hough's statement should hearten a lot of fellows who haven't really found themselves after the 40 mark has been passed, and his own career should serve to inspire confidence and instill new energy in some of the faithful plodders who have almost given up hope. Hough didn't give up during the days of adversity — that is the main thing to remember. Keep on trying and even if you are nearer 60 than you are 40, you can still strike, in the vernacular of the oil field, a "gusher" in some field of endeavor, that means real success. Let no one set a "dead line" for you — you have everything to say about that yourself. The movie director continually yells for "action" when he is making the film you are soon to enjoy on the screen. If you can provide plenty of "action" in your struggle for success, you will not only achieve it, but keep pushing that "dead line" farther and farther away. There is no "dead line" at 40!

—Iowa City Press-Citizen, Iowa City, IA April 11, 1921, p. 1.