A LITERARY ASPIRANT.

Otago Witness, Issue 2490, 4 December 1901, Page 69

A LITERARY ASPIRANT.

HOW SHE WROTE A SHORT STORY. It was her papa* who made the first overtures to nt?. The overtures took tins shape : Wentworth Sniee, Esq., cara of Sunday Sun office, London. E.U. Dear Sir, — How much will you take to make a litteratoosr of my 'daughter?— Yours faithfully, John Higgs. It seemed unkind to lisappoint Mr Hig»s. He evidently expected me to

charge a good deal, so I wrote back and said that I would take millions. He then replied that my "esteemed favour was to hand," and that he would pay £10. Whereupon I wrote to him that he was probably throwing away his £10, but that I was so impressed by his own epistolary power that I would willingly interview his fair daughter and see what could be done with her He said if I did not charge anything for my services they were evidently not worth much, and that he would prefer to pay the £10. I told him Jiat he was one of those men who constitute the pride of a great country like England, and that I should much like to make his acquaintance. He wrote back : "Now you're talking. Come down to 'The Elms' at Eal8112 and lunch with us." Ealinje; seemed a

long way off, but I agreed to make an effort and lunch with Mr and Miss Higgs.

It wa<> a nice enough house. You know, the sort of place where they stick a laburnum in the front garden and call it "The Oaks." On this principle Mr Higgs had planted au acacia and called ib "The Elms." And Miss Higgs was much prettier tban the house, it always seem* to me such a pity that a really pretty girl should loss her fresh, healthy coloui, and get all over ink in her desire to write. Anybody can write. Only the truly great refrain "from doing it. It foi the modest .sum of 6d you can get the cream of others' brains, why should you trouble to write stories foi yourself; It seems such a waste of time.

Mr Higg was really a dear old fellow, and very friendly. He said, aftei lunch, he would like me to stroll down to "the 'ot "ouse and have a weed," but I could see that Miss Higgs considered this mere trifling, and so I heroically declined; whereupon, Mr Higgs said that he would have a nap whilst I taught Miss Higgs how to write a short story. We had better go into the '"lib'ry,'" and there we should find everything we wanted in the shape of writing materials. Miss Higgs was a little nervous, but full of ideas. One of these ideas was that wre had better begin with a novel. Had she thought of a plot? No, she had not thought of a plot. ■ Wouldn't it be better, I suggested, if for this occasion we were to confine ourselves to a short story. The writing of a novel between lunch and dinner time would keep us too busy ; even with a phonograph, it would be hard work, and I had not brought my phonograph with me. She seemed disappointed, but reluctantly agreed to postpone the novel and to begin with a short story. I gave a nice little lecture about the different sorts of short stories, indirectly stating my own preference foi the French way of doing things ; whereupon she blushed, and said that site had been told at school strictly to avoid the French way of doing things. She knew, she added, that there was more artistry in French stories, but ! Of course, 1 knew what she roeaut by that " but," and hastily changed the subject. The word "artistry" made me think. Where had the girl picked it up? It did not seem to be in keeping with "The Elms."

"I suppose we must have a story with love in* it?" said Miss Higgs. "That's where I think Kipling fails, don't you? He doesn't find women interesting enough, to write about them. The only bit I liked in 'Kirn' is where the Hill Woman makes love to him. Do you know Kipling?'" She seemed to be so interested in Kipling that I had to tell her something about him. Then she wanted to know about Jerome K. Jerome, and I incidentally mentioned that I had been to Oxford Fair with him a few days ago, and had had my watch stolen, and that, after it was stolen, he had explained to roe how it was done. Then I remembered that we were not getting on with the story ; but she wanted 10 know whether it wps true that Jerome wa'< a very serious man, and I explained to her that all humorists laugh that they may not weep. Sha seemed very much impressed by this statement, and said that she had often felt that way herself. Life was sad when yon came to a place like Ealing and did not know many people.

The subject seemed so large that I hastily returned to the short story. "You think of an incident and plunge right into it," I said. "If you have a surprise up your sleeve at the end of the story so much the better. Most people who write short stories want to explain things too much ; but what is the good of telling all about the hero's measles, and when he first got into a tail coat." Then I remembered my first tail coat, and explained to Miss Higgs that I was so proud of it that I walked down Piccadilly with my head turned backward to look at it (the coat, not Piccadilly), and ran bang into a policeman . She laughed at this, and said that heroes always seemed to her so stupid. And what about the heroine? She had always understood that there must be a heroine m a short story, and it was so difficult to describe a girl in a short story. Even Balzac took about two pages to describe a girl* eyes, and then there wasn't any shoit story left. Now where had the girl heard of Balzac? I bsgar to mistrust her; but she wanted to know whose short stories I admired most, and I told her how I liked Barry Pain's way of always giving you something unexpected at the end ; and she asked me what Pain was like, and had I evtr met Robert Barr. She said she had heard that BaiT was going to give up writing short stories and go in for the ministry, with W. L. AldeD as his curate ; and, of course, I had to explain that this was not so ; and she scribbled absent little notes in a book at I told her anecdotes about them, and asked, me where she could find their addresses. It was so pleasant to knowwhere people lived — so typical. That reminded me that when W. L. Alden first came to this country he had only one prejudice against living at any particular place and that place was Tooling. So he took a house at Balham. and then received a letter with tbe Tooting p° s t mark on it, and found out that Balham was in the Tooting district.

After that we got on famously, and sketched out a story in a very short time. E-very now and then Miss Higgs would ask me something about Barrie, or Gilbert Parker, or John Oliver Hobbes, and make little notes of what I told her. She also wanted to know if Sil>as Hocking had joined the Salvation Army, and I said such a rumour could not be true, because I had se-en him only the day before, and he had told me about a Salvation Army girl who tried to convert an author, and the author had asked hei if she believed in the story of Jonah and the whale, and the ghl said "Yes." When he wanted her to :xplain her belier )he said she could not, but that she would ask Jonah when sh« sot to Heaven. He said. "But suppose Janab isn't in Heaven?" "Then vov can

ask him," said the girl Miss Higgs al.io made a note of tint, and after I had scornfully refused Mr Higgs's £10 note, we parted with expressions of mutual esteem, and Miss Higgs promised to send me rhe story as soon as she had written it out.

But she made a mistake a few daj s> later when she sent me an article called "Latest Chat about British Authors."' Enclosed with it was a letter to the editor >>f an American magazine, saying that this aiticle contained special information, and she wanted £50 for it. I suppose Miss Higgs had sent her short story to the American editor by mistake instead of to me, and that I had received the article intended foi the American editor. So I put the

article in the fire, and resolved to be more taciturn in future. When a girl talks about "artistry" and shows an intimate knowledge of Balzac, arid vet does not know how to tell a story, I ->hall be very careful. But, of course, if you know .i lot of authors find hear things about them and tell people in confidence, it is a bit aggravating to find them in print a day rv Uro after. Why, I know one author who has worn a respirator for years at the club. He never wears it auywhere el«e. When I asked him why he wore it at the club, he said there were so many nice genial fellows Lhsre he could not help telling them all the best stories lie had invented litely, and they got into the papers next, day ; and when he told his own stories, at dinner parties. people would stare at him in mingled astonishment and grief, and ofi'ei to lend him the paper where they had read them. So he had a special resnirator made, and heard stories instead of telling h's own.