procedure is to vary the timing so as to take all
pictures with small stops.

To which I can only answer that this is all well enough for the trained
photographer and that in these days of my semi-professionalism I
practice that same sort of thing myself. But in the beginning I was duly
grateful to the man who gave me the golden maxim of "the closer the
object, the larger the stop; the more distant the object, the smaller
the stop"--a piece of advice which enabled a novice, with only one
simple adjustment to worry about, to take a passably sharp, properly
exposed picture. So I pass the word along to you for whatever it may be
worth.

CHAPTER IV

FINDING A MARKET

A nose for news, some perseverance, a typewriter and a camera have thus
far been listed as the equipment most essential to success for a writer
of non-fiction who sets out to trade in the periodical market as a free
lance. Rather brief mention has been made of the matter of literary
style. This is not because the writer of this book lacks reverence for
literary craftsmanship. It is simply because, with the facts staring him
in the face, he must set down his conviction that a polished style is
not a matter of tremendous importance to the average editor of the
average American periodical.

Journalists so clumsy that, in the graphic phrase of a short grass poet,
"they seem to write with their feet," sell manuscripts with clock-like
regularity to first-class markets. The magazines, like the newspapers,
employ "re-write men" to take crude manuscripts to pieces, rebuild them
and give them a presentable polish. The matter of prime importance to
most of our American editors is an article's content in the way of
vital facts and "human interest." Upon the matter of style the typical
editor appears to take Matthew Arnold's words quite literally:

"People think that I can teach them style. What stuff it all is! Have
something to say, and say it as clearly as you can. That is the only
secret of style."

No embittered collector of rejection slips will believe me when I
declare that the demand for worth-while articles always exceeds the
supply in American magazine markets. None the less it is true, as every
editor knows to his constant sorrow. The appetite of our hundreds of
periodicals for real "stories" never has been satisfied. The menu has to
be filled out with a regrettable proportion of bran and _ersatz_.

The fact that a manuscript lacks all charm of