The Strand Magazine (Nov. 1915)

How I "Broke Into Print."

Being the Personal Statements of certain Well-known Authors explaining why they took to Literature as a Profession and how they first came to make a "Hit" with the Reading Public.

...

Robert W. Chambers.

Mr. Robert W. Chambers is generally regarded as America's most popular novelist, and certainly he has figured more often among the "best sellers" than any other native writer. And yet it was only by lucky chance that he did not become an artist instead of an author. His parents wanted him to be an artist, and even Robert himself had visions of a velvet coat and a gorgeous studio, so he went to the Art Students' League of New York, where he had for a fellow-student Mr. Charles Dana Gibson. The two became great friends, and after they had been "following" art for about a year Chambers and Gibson collected their sketches and journeyed to the offices of Life, where they offered their wares for whatever they were worth. The Art Editor examined the drawings of both with a critical eye. He handed Gibson back his sheaf with the equivalent of "nothing doing," and then said somewhat gloomily - possibly for financial reasons - that he could use the others. When they left the office and were on their way back to their respective dwellings Gibson bitterly declared that he would never make another drawing but devote himself to literature, while Chambers was equally determined to be a great artist. Fortunately, both men changed their minds, and now Gibson illustrated Chambers's stories, and thus - to quote the magazines - the "biggest of all literary and artistic combinations" has been formed.

The "lucky chance" referred to, whereby Mr. Chambers turned aside from art and devoted himself to literature, occurred in Paris, where he had become a student at the �cole des Beaux Arts and was studying under Julian. Being naturally observant, Mr. Chambers absorbed all that took place in the Latin Quarter, and when he had finished his art studies for the day he would lay his brush aside and amuse himself by writing of the things which he had seen and heard in the Parisian Bohemia. Then when he returned to New York he collected these fragments, boiled them down to a conglomerate whole, and offered the results to a publisher. They were accepted for book-publication and duly appeared. Thus Mr. Chambers "broke into print," but the break was accompanied by so mild a crash that he received neither fame nor fortune through his initial effort. "Then," says the author, "I got a job on a New York paper as a space-writer. I was paid according to the amount of blank paper I covered, and I didn't find the work particularly congenial. I was still mighty fond of drawing, and when I was tired of writing - which was frequent - I drew instead, and the drawings - which were supposedly humorous - sometimes went in. I measured these up and claimed the same rate of pay as for written stuff. Everything went on all right for a week or two, but one day when I went to claim my pay envelope the cashier said to me: "They're on to you upstairs." I thought the matter over and decided to quit, which I did the following day.

"My most important 'break into print' was a collection of short stories of a weird and uncanny character, entitled 'The King in Yellow,' which the public seemed to like. So flatteringly was it received, indeed, that it decided me to devote all my time to fiction, and so I have been writing ever since. I cannot say which of my books I prefer, because just as soon as I have finished a story I dislike it. I am continually trying to do something better, so that I presume my 'best' book never will be written."

Mr. Chambers gave this advice to the beginner some years ago, and it holds good to-day: "Have something to say and learn by experience how to say it. The important thing, to be sure, is something to say. The trouble with most people who try to write stories is that they have nothing to write about. Next - don't talk about it; do it. Don't go to a publisher and ask him what he wants. Make him want what you have to offer. If it is the real thing you won't have much difficulty. You will 'break into print' with your first effort."

Although Mr. Chambers has published over half a hundred books since the days of "The King in Yellow" he is not, so he says, a very rapid writer. Ana neither is he what one would call a "hard worker" compared with the average business man. All his stories he writes in long hand and in pencil, and his manuscripts are models of neatness. Every word is as distinct and clear as print, and his "copy" is a joy to the compositor. It is said that he never sits down to resume writing without first going over all that part of the story already written, polishing and refining it, so that really every page he writes is burnished a score of times before it is finally in shape for the printer. And he is a merciless amputator of his own work, frequently reducing a hundred-thousand-word novel to seventy or sixty thousand. Indeed, so great a mania has he for "cutting" that unless his publishers look after him carefully he would end by leaving only the title.

And though many people might not remember it, Mr. Chambers has also made an effort - several in fact - to break into the drama. Years ago, when Daly's Theatre was the Mecca of all true lovers of dramatic art, Mr. Augustin Daly asked Chambers to dramatize one of Scott's novels, and within a week "The Witch of Ellangowan" was produced, with Ada Rehan as Meg Merrilies. The play was a success and Daly was delighted, prophesying that Chanbers would become America's leading dramatist if he persevered. Chambers was flattered and set to work to write an original play, but just as it was finished Daly died, and the author was so disheartened that he decided to eschew the drama and confine himself to books. And so he has continued to write novels ever since.

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