and pain, and bitterness, and that
sense of futility in which all of these evils are summed up; and yet
were there no other alleviation, he who knows and truly loves literature
finds here a sufficient reason to be glad he lives. Science may show a
man how to live; art makes living worth his while. Existence to-day
without literature would be a failure and a despair; and if we cannot
satisfactorily define our art, we at least are aware how it enriches and
ennobles the life of every human being who comes within the sphere of
its gracious influence."

So, we repeat: for the good of the artist's self-respect as well as for
his craftsmanship it is worth while to attempt fiction. If only as a
tonic! If only to jog himself out of a rut of habit!

If he succeeds with fiction he has bright hopes of winning much larger
financial rewards for his labor than he is likely to gain by writing
articles. Non-fiction rarely brings in more than one return upon the
investment, but a good short story or novel may fetch several. First,
his yarn sells to the magazine. Then it may be re-sold ("second serial
rights") to the newspapers. Finally, it may fetch the largest cash
return of all by being marketed to a motion picture corporation as the
plot for a scenario. In some instances even this does not exhaust all
the possibilities, for if British magazines and bookmen are interested
in the tale, the "English rights" of publication may add another payment
to the total.

Not all of the features of this picture, however, should be painted in
rose-colors. A disconcerting and persistent rumor has it that what once
was a by-product of fiction--the sale of "movie rights"--is now
threatening to run off with the entire production. The side show, we are
warned, is shaping the policy of the main tent. Which is to say that
novelists and magazine fiction writers are accused of becoming more
concerned about how their stories will film than about how the
manuscripts will grade as pieces of literature. To get a yarn into print
is still worth while because this enhances its value in the eyes of the
producers of motion pictures. But the author's real goal is "no longer
good writing, so much as remunerative picture possibilities."

We set this down not because we believe it true of the majority of our
brother craftsmen, but because evidences of such influences are
undeniably present, and do not appear to have done the art of writing
fiction any appreciable bene