August 18, 2025 • 28 mins
Have you ever been curious about how your favorite authors embarked on their writing journeys? Did they dive headfirst into the world of literature, or did they pour their hearts into their stories after long days at the office? Some faced countless rejections, while others tasted success almost immediately. In this captivating collection, we hear directly from the authors themselves—like Bret Harte, Arthur Conan Doyle, R.M. Ballantyne, and H. Rider Haggard—as they share the pivotal moments that launched their literary careers. Join us as we explore the diverse experiences that shaped some of the most beloved writers in history. - Summary by Lynne Thompson
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eighteen of my first book. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. My
first book by Varies, Cavalry Life by John's Strange Winter
Missus Arthur Stannard. My first book, as ever was was written,
(00:27):
or to speak quite correctly, was printed on the nursery
floor some thirty odd years ago. I remember the making
of the book very well. The leaves were made from
an old copy book, and the back was a piece
of stiff paper, sewed in place and carefully cut down
to the right size. So far as I remember, it
(00:48):
was about three soldiers and a pig. I don't quite
know how the pig came in, but that is a
mere detail. I have no data to go upon, as
I did not dream thirty years ago that I should
ever be so known to fame as to be asked
to write the true story of my first book. But
I have a wonderful memory, and to the best of
(01:09):
my recollection, it was, as I say, about three soldiers
and a pig. It never saw the light, and there
are times when I feel thankful to a gracious providence
that I have been spared the power of gratifying the
temptation to give birth to those early efforts after the
manner of Sir Edwin Landseer and that pathetic, little childish
(01:32):
drawing of two sheep which is to be seen at
provincial exhibitions of pictures for the encouragement and example of
the rising generation. So far as I can recall, I
made no efforts for some years to woo fickle fortune
after the attempt to recount the story of the Three
Soldiers and a Pig. But when I was about fourteen,
(01:55):
my heart was fired by the example of a school fellow,
one josephine H, who spent a large portion of her
time writing stories, or as our schoolmistress put it, wasting
time and spoiling paper. All the same josephine H's stories
were very good, and I have often wondered since those
(02:16):
days whether she, in after life, went on with her
favorite pursuits. I have never heard of her again, except once,
and then somebody told me that she had married a
clergyman and lived at West Hartlepool. Yes, all this has
something to do, and very materially with the story of
(02:37):
my first book. For in emulating Josephine h whom I
was very fond of and whom I admired immensely, I
discovered that I could write myself, or at least that
I wanted to write, and that I had ideas that
I wanted to see on paper. Without that gentle stimulant, however,
(02:58):
I might never have found that I might one day
be able to do something in the same way myself.
My next try was at a joint story, a story
written by three girls, myself and two friends that was
in the same year. We really made considerable headway with
that story, and had visions of completely finishing it and
(03:20):
getting no less a sum than thirty pounds for it.
I have a sort of an idea that I supplied
most of the framework for the story, and that the
elder of my collaborators filled in the millinery and the
love making. But alas for the futility of human hopes
and desires, that book was destined never to be finished,
(03:41):
for I had a violent quarrel with my collaborators, and
we have never spoken to each other from that day
to this. So came to an untimely end. My second
serious attempt at writing a book for the stories that
I had written in emulation of Josephine h were only
short and were mostly unfinished. I wasted a terrible deal
(04:05):
of paper between my second try and my seventeenth birthday,
and I believe that I was at that time one
of the most hopeless trials of my father's life. He
many times offered to provide me with as much cheap
paper as I liked to have. But cheap paper did
not satisfy my artistic soul, for I always liked the
(04:25):
best of everything. Good paper was my weakness as it
was his, and I used it or wasted it, which
you will, with just the same lavish hand as I
had done afore time. When I was seventeen, I did
a skit on a little book called How to Live
on sixpence a Day that was my first soldier's story,
(04:49):
accepting the original three soldiers and a pig, and introduced
a sixpence a day pamphlet into a smart cavalry regiment
whose officers were in various degrees death and difficulty, and
every man was a bare faced portrait without the smallest
attempt at concealment of his identity. Eventually, this sketch was
(05:11):
printed in a York paper, and the honor of seeing
myself in print was considered enough reward for me. I,
on the contrary, had no such pure love of fame.
I had done what I considered a very smart sketch,
and I thought it well worth payment of some kind,
which it certainly was. After this, I spent a year
(05:34):
abroad improving my mind, and I think on the whole
it will be best to draw a veil over that
portion of my literary history. For I went out to
dinner on every possible occasion and had a good time generally.
Stay did I not say my literary history? Well, that
year had a good deal to do with my literary history,
(05:56):
for I wrote stories most of the time, during a
large part of my working hours, and during the whole
of my spare time when I did not happen to
be going out to dinner, and when I came home,
I worked on just the same. Until towards the end
of seventy five I drew blood for the first time.
Oh a joy of that first bit of money, my
(06:19):
first earnings. And it was but a bit a mere scrap,
to be explicit, It amounted to ten shillings. I went
and bought a watch on the strength of it, not
a very costly affair, a matter of two pounds ten
and an old silver turnip that I had by me.
(06:39):
It was wonderful how that one half sovereign opened up
my ideas. I looked into the future as far as
I could see, and I saw myself earning an income.
For at that time of day I had acquired no
artistic feelings at all, and I genuinely wanted to make
name and fame and money. I saw myself a young
(07:00):
young woman who could make a couple of hundred pounds
from one novel, and I gloried in the prospect. I
disposed of a good many stories in the same quarter,
at starvation prices ranging from the original ten shillings to
thirty five. Then, after a patient year of this not
(07:21):
very luxurious work, I made a step forward and got
a story accepted by the dear Old Family Herald. Oh. Yes,
this is really all relevant to my first book, very
much so indeed, For it was through mister William Stevens,
one of the proprietors of the Family Herald, that I
learned to know the meaning of the word caution, a
(07:43):
word absolutely indispensable to any young author's vocabulary. At this
time I wrote a great deal for the Family Herald
and also various magazines, including London Society. In the latter
my first winter work appeared, a story called A Regimental Martyr.
(08:04):
I was very oddly pleased at this point of my career,
for I liked most doing the winter work, but the
ordinary young lady like fiction paid me so much the
best that I could not afford to give it up.
I was, like all young magazine writers, passionately desirous of
appearing in book form. I knew not a single soul
(08:27):
in the way connected with literary matters, had absolutely no
help or interest of any kind to aid me over
the rough places, or even of whom to ask advice
in times of doubt and difficulty. Mister William Stevens was
the only editor that I knew to whom I could
go and say is this right? Or is that wrong?
(08:49):
And I think it may be interesting to say here
that I have never asked for, nor indeed used a
letter of introduction in my life that is in connection
with any literary business. Well, when I had been hard
at work for several years, I wrote a very long
book upon my word. In spite of my good memory,
(09:09):
I forget what it was called. The story, however, lives
in my mind well enough. It was the story of
a very large family, about ten girls and boys, who
all made brilliant marriages and lived a sort of shabby,
idelly happy life somewhat on the plan of God for
us all, and the devil take the hindermost need I
(09:33):
say that it was told in the first person, in
the present tense, and that the heroine was anything but
good looking. I was very young then, and thought a
great deal of my pretty bits of writing and those
seductive scraps of moralizing against which mister Stevens was always
warning me. Well, this very long, not to say spun
(09:56):
out account of this very large family of boys girls
did not happen to please the readers for the Family Herald,
then my stay by. So I thought I would have
a try round the various publishers and see if I
could not get it brought out in three volumes. Of course,
I tried all the best people first, and very often
(10:19):
when I receive from struggling young authors who know a
great deal more about my past history than I do myself,
and who frequently write to ask me the best and
easiest way to get on at novel writing without either
hard work or waiting or disappointment, Because, if you please,
my own beginnings were so singularly successful and delightful the
(10:42):
information that I have never known of any of their troubles.
It seems to me that my past and my present
cannot be the past and present of the same woman.
Yet they are. I went through it all, the same
sickening disappointments, the same hopes and fears. I trod the
self same path that every beginner must assuredly tread, as
(11:05):
we must all in time tread that other path to
the grave. I went through it all, and with that
exceedingly long and detailed account of that large and shabby family,
I trod the thorny path of publishing, almost to the
bitter end, ay, even to the goal where we find
the full blown swindler waiting for us with bland looks
(11:27):
and honeyed words of sweetest flattery. Dear, Dear, many who
read this will know the process. It seldom varies. First,
I sent my carefully written manuscript, whose very handwriting betrayed
my youth, to a certain firm which had offices of
the strand to be considered for publication. The firm very
(11:51):
kindly did consider it, and their consideration was such that
they made me an offer of publication on certain terms.
Their polite note informed me that their readers had read
the work and thought very highly of it, that they
were inclined, just by the way of completing their list
for the approaching September, the best months in the year
(12:13):
for bringing out novels, to bring it out, although I
was as yet unknown to fame. Then came the first
hint of the consideration, which took the form of a
hundred pounds to be paid down in three sums, all
to fall due before the day of publication. I worked
out the profits which could accrue if the entire edition
(12:37):
sold out. I found that in that case I should
have a nice little sum for myself of hundred and
eighty pounds. Now, no struggling young author, in his or
her senses, is silly enough to throw away the chance
of making one hundred and eighty pounds in one lump,
I thought, And I thought the whole scheme out, and
(12:59):
I must confessed that the more I thought about it,
the more utterly tempting did the offerseem to risk one
hundred pounds and to make hundred and eighty pounds. Why
it was a positive sin to lose such a chance.
Therefore I scraped a hundred pounds together, and with my
mother set off for London, feeling that at last I
(13:22):
was going to conquer the world. We did a theater
on the strength of my coming good fortune, and the
morning after our arrival in town, set off, in my
case at all events, with swelling hearts to keep the
appointment with the kindly publisher who was going to put
me in the way of making fame and fortune. I
(13:43):
opened the door and went in. Is mister at home?
I asked. I was forthwith conducted to an inner sanctum,
where I was received by the head of the firm himself.
Then I experienced my first shock. He squinted. Now I
never could endure a man with a squint, and I
(14:05):
distrusted this man instantly. You know, there are squints and squints.
There is a soft and certain squint feminine, which is
really charming. And there is a particular obliquity of vision
which in a man rather gives a larky expression, and
so makes you feel that there is nothing prim and
(14:26):
formal about him, and seems to put you on good
terms at once. And there is a cold blooded squint
which makes your flesh creep, and which, when taken in
connection with business, brings little stories to your mind. Is
any one coming, sister Anne? And that sort of thing?
(14:46):
Mister asked me to excuse him for a moment while
he gave some instructions, and without waiting for my permission,
looked through a few letters, shouted a message down a
speaking tube, and then, after having arranged the face of
about half a dozen novels by the means of the
same instrument, he sent a final message down the tube
asking for my manuscript, only to be told that he
(15:09):
would find it in the top right hand drawer of
his desk. As a matter of fact, all this delay
intended to impress me and make me understand what a
great thing had happened to me in having one attention
from so busy a man simply did for mister so
far as I was concerned. Instead of impressing me, it
(15:31):
gave me time to get used to the place. It
gave me time to look at mister when he was
not looking at me. Then, having found the manuscript, he
looked at me and prepared to give me his undivided attention. Well,
he said, with a long breath, as if it was
quite a relief to see a new face. I am
(15:53):
very glad you have decided to close with our offer.
We confidently expect a great success with your book. We
shall have to change the title, though there is a
good deal in a title. I replied modestly that there
was a good deal in a title. But I added,
I have not closed with your offer. On the contrary,
(16:15):
I He looked up sharply and squinted worse than ever. Oh,
I quite thought that you had definitely not at all,
I replied, then added a piece of information which could not,
by any chance have been new to him. A hundred
pounds is a lot of money, you know, I remarked.
(16:37):
Mister looked at me in a meditative fashion. Well, if
you have not got the money, he said, rather contemptuously,
we might make a slight reduction, say if we brought
it down to seventy five pounds, solely because our readers
have spoken so highly of the story. Now look here,
I will show you what our reader says, which is
(16:59):
a favor that we do don't extend to every one
that I can tell you here. It is probably in
the whole of his somewhat checkered career as a publisher,
mister never committed such a fatal mistake as by handing
me the report on my history in detail of that
very large family of boys and girls bright crisp Razy.
(17:22):
It ran very unequal in parts once a good deal
of revision, and should be entirely rewritten. Would be better
if the story was brought to a conclusion when the
heroine first meets with a hero after the parting, as
all the rest forms an anti climax. This might be
worked up into a really popular novel, especially as it
(17:43):
is written very much in miss A style, naming a
then very popular authorss whose sole merit consisted in being
the most faithful imitator of the gifted founder of a
very pernicious school. I put the sheet of paper, were down,
feeling very sick and ill. And the worst of it
(18:05):
was I knew that every word of it was true.
I was young and inexperienced then, and had not know
enough to say plump out that my eyes had been opened,
and that I could see that I should be neither
more nor less than a fool If I wasted a
single farthing over a story that must be utterly worthless.
(18:27):
So I prevaricated mildly and said that I certainly did
not feel inclined to throw a hundred or even seventy
five pounds away over a story without some certainty of success.
I'll think it over during the day, I said, rising
from my chair. Oh we must know within an hour.
At the outside, mister said, very curtly. Our arrangements will
(18:52):
not wait, and the time is very short now for
us to decide on our books for September. Of course,
if you have not got the money, we might reduce
a little more. We are always glad if possible to
meet our clients. It's not that, I replied, looking at
him straight, I have the money in my pocket. But
(19:13):
a Yorkshire woman does not put down a hundred pounds
without some idea what is going to be done with it.
You must let me have your answer within an hour,
mister remarked briefly. I will, I said, in my most
polite manner, But I really must think out the fact
that you are willing to knock off twenty five pounds
(19:35):
at one blow. It seems to me. If you could
afford to take that much off, and perhaps a little more,
then there must be something very odd about your original offer.
My time is precious, said mister in a grumpy voice.
Then good morning, said I cheerfully. My hopes were all
(19:57):
dashed to the ground again, but I felt very cheerful. Nevertheless,
I trotted around to my friend mister Stevens, who gave
a whistle of astonishment at my story. I'll send my
head clerk round for your manuscript at once, he said,
else you'll probably never see it again. And so he did,
and so ended my next attempt to bring out my
(20:18):
first book. After this, I felt very keenly the real
truth of the old saying, virtue is its own reward.
For Not long after my episode with mister the then
editor of London Society wrote to me saying that he
thought that as I had already had several stories published
(20:40):
in the magazine, it might make a very attractive volume
if I could add a few more and bring them
out as a collection of soldiers stories. I did not
hesitate very long over this offer, but set to work
with all the enthusiasm of youth. And youth does have
the advantage of being full of the fire of enthusiasm
nothing else, and I turned out enough news stories to
(21:03):
make a very respectable volume. Then followed the period of
waiting to which all literary folk must accustom themselves. I was, however,
always of a tolerably long suffering disposition, and possessed my
soul in patience as well as I could. The next
thing I heard was that the book had very good prospects,
(21:25):
but that it would have its chances greatly improved if
it were in two volumes instead of being in only one. Well,
youth is generous, and I did not see the wisdom
of spoiling the ship for the traditional hap worth of tar.
So I cheerfully set to work and evolved another volume
of stories, all of smart long legged soldiers, and with
(21:48):
as Heaven knows, no more idea of setting myself up
as possessing all knowledge about soldiers and the service than
I had of aspiring to the crown of the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. But even then I
had need of a vast amount of patience, for time
went on, and really my book seemed as far from
(22:09):
publication as ever. Every now and then I had a
letter telling me that the arrangements were nearly completed and
that it would probably be brought up by Messrs So
and so. But days wore into weeks, and weeks into months,
until I really began to feel as if my first
literary babe was doomed to die before it was born.
(22:31):
Then arose a long haggle over terms which I had
thought were settled, and to be on the same terms
as a magazine rates no such wonderful scale. After all, however,
my literary guide, philosopher and friend thought, as he was
doing me the inestimable service of bringing me out, that
twenty pounds was an ample honorarium for myself. But I,
(22:55):
being young and poor, did not see things in the
same light at all. Try as I would, and I
cannot lay claim to trying very hard, I could not
see why a man who had never seen me should
have put himself to so much trouble out of a
spirit of pure philanthropy and a desire to help a
struggling young author forward. So I obstinately kept to my
(23:19):
point and said, if I did not have thirty pounds,
I would rather have all of the stories back again.
I think nobody would credit to day what that special
bit of firmness cost me. Still, I would cheerfully have
died before I would have given in, having once conceived
my claim to be a just one, a bad habit
(23:41):
on the whole, and one that has since cost me
dear more than once. Eventually, my guide and I came
to terms for the sum for which I had held out,
namely thirty pounds, which was the price I received from
my very first book, in addition to that eight pounds
that I had already had from the magazine for serial
(24:01):
use of a few of the stories. So in due
course my book, under the title of Cavalry Life, was
brought out in two great cumbersome volumes by Messrs Chatteau
and Windus, and I was launched upon the world as
a full blown author under the name of Winter. So
(24:21):
many people have asked me why I took that name
and how I came to think of it, that it
will not perhaps be amiss if I give the reason
in this paper. It happened like this. During our negotiations,
my guide suggested that I had better take some gnome decare,
as it would never do to bring out such a
book under a woman's name. Make it as real sounding
(24:46):
and non committing as you can, he wrote. And so,
after much cogitation and cudgeling of my brains, I chose
the name of the hero of the only story of
the series, which was written in the first person and
called My Jay as Winter. I believed that Cavalry Life
was published on the last day of eighteen eighty one.
(25:09):
Then followed the most trying time of all, that of
waiting to see what the press would say of this,
my first child, which had been so long in coming
to life, and had been chopped and changed, bundled from
pillar to post until my heart was almost worn out
before ever it saw the light. Then, on January fourteenth,
(25:31):
eighteen eighty two, I went into the subscription library at York,
where I was living, and began to search the new
journals through in. But feinnt hopes, however, of seeing a
review of my book so soon as that, for I
was quite alone in the world so far as literary
matters went. Indeed, not one friend did I possess who
(25:53):
could in any way influence my career or obtain the
slightest favor for me. I remember that morning so well
it is I think printed on my memory as the
word Callah was on the heart of Queen Mary. It
was a fine, cold morning, and there was a blazing
fire in the inner room where the reviews were kept.
(26:16):
I sat down at the table and took up this
Saturday Review, never dreaming for a moment that I should
be honored by so much as a mention in a
journal which I held in such awe and respect. And
as I turned over the leaves, my eyes fell on
a row of footnotes at the bottom of the page,
giving the names of the books which were noticed above,
(26:38):
and among them I saw Cavalry Life by Jay S. Winter.
For full ten minutes I sat there, feeling sick and
more fit to die than anything else. I was perfectly
incapable of looking at the notice above. But at last
I plucked up courage to meet my fate, very much
(26:59):
as one summons up courage to have a tooth out
and get the horrid wrench over. Judge of my surprise
and joy when on reading the notice I found that
this Saturday had given me a rattling good notice, praising
the new author heartily and without stint. I shall never,
(27:20):
as long as I live, forget the effect of that
my first review upon me. For quite half an hour,
I sat without moving, only feeling I shall never be
able to keep it up, I shall never be able
to follow it up by another. I felt paralyzed, faint, crushed,
(27:41):
anything but elated and jubilant. Then, at last, through some instinct,
I put my hand up to my head to find
that it was cold and wet, as if it had
been dipped in the river. Thank Heaven. From that day
to this I have never known what a cold sweat was.
It was my first experience of such a thing, and
(28:03):
sincerely I hope it will be my last. End of
Chapter eighteen
Chapter eighteen of my first book. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. My
first book by Varies, Cavalry Life by John's Strange Winter
Missus Arthur Stannard. My first book, as ever was was written,
(00:27):
or to speak quite correctly, was printed on the nursery
floor some thirty odd years ago. I remember the making
of the book very well. The leaves were made from
an old copy book, and the back was a piece
of stiff paper, sewed in place and carefully cut down
to the right size. So far as I remember, it
(00:48):
was about three soldiers and a pig. I don't quite
know how the pig came in, but that is a
mere detail. I have no data to go upon, as
I did not dream thirty years ago that I should
ever be so known to fame as to be asked
to write the true story of my first book. But
I have a wonderful memory, and to the best of
(01:09):
my recollection, it was, as I say, about three soldiers
and a pig. It never saw the light, and there
are times when I feel thankful to a gracious providence
that I have been spared the power of gratifying the
temptation to give birth to those early efforts after the
manner of Sir Edwin Landseer and that pathetic, little childish
(01:32):
drawing of two sheep which is to be seen at
provincial exhibitions of pictures for the encouragement and example of
the rising generation. So far as I can recall, I
made no efforts for some years to woo fickle fortune
after the attempt to recount the story of the Three
Soldiers and a Pig. But when I was about fourteen,
(01:55):
my heart was fired by the example of a school fellow,
one josephine H, who spent a large portion of her
time writing stories, or as our schoolmistress put it, wasting
time and spoiling paper. All the same josephine H's stories
were very good, and I have often wondered since those
(02:16):
days whether she, in after life, went on with her
favorite pursuits. I have never heard of her again, except once,
and then somebody told me that she had married a
clergyman and lived at West Hartlepool. Yes, all this has
something to do, and very materially with the story of
(02:37):
my first book. For in emulating Josephine h whom I
was very fond of and whom I admired immensely, I
discovered that I could write myself, or at least that
I wanted to write, and that I had ideas that
I wanted to see on paper. Without that gentle stimulant, however,
(02:58):
I might never have found that I might one day
be able to do something in the same way myself.
My next try was at a joint story, a story
written by three girls, myself and two friends that was
in the same year. We really made considerable headway with
that story, and had visions of completely finishing it and
(03:20):
getting no less a sum than thirty pounds for it.
I have a sort of an idea that I supplied
most of the framework for the story, and that the
elder of my collaborators filled in the millinery and the
love making. But alas for the futility of human hopes
and desires, that book was destined never to be finished,
(03:41):
for I had a violent quarrel with my collaborators, and
we have never spoken to each other from that day
to this. So came to an untimely end. My second
serious attempt at writing a book for the stories that
I had written in emulation of Josephine h were only
short and were mostly unfinished. I wasted a terrible deal
(04:05):
of paper between my second try and my seventeenth birthday,
and I believe that I was at that time one
of the most hopeless trials of my father's life. He
many times offered to provide me with as much cheap
paper as I liked to have. But cheap paper did
not satisfy my artistic soul, for I always liked the
(04:25):
best of everything. Good paper was my weakness as it
was his, and I used it or wasted it, which
you will, with just the same lavish hand as I
had done afore time. When I was seventeen, I did
a skit on a little book called How to Live
on sixpence a Day that was my first soldier's story,
(04:49):
accepting the original three soldiers and a pig, and introduced
a sixpence a day pamphlet into a smart cavalry regiment
whose officers were in various degrees death and difficulty, and
every man was a bare faced portrait without the smallest
attempt at concealment of his identity. Eventually, this sketch was
(05:11):
printed in a York paper, and the honor of seeing
myself in print was considered enough reward for me. I,
on the contrary, had no such pure love of fame.
I had done what I considered a very smart sketch,
and I thought it well worth payment of some kind,
which it certainly was. After this, I spent a year
(05:34):
abroad improving my mind, and I think on the whole
it will be best to draw a veil over that
portion of my literary history. For I went out to
dinner on every possible occasion and had a good time generally.
Stay did I not say my literary history? Well, that
year had a good deal to do with my literary history,
(05:56):
for I wrote stories most of the time, during a
large part of my working hours, and during the whole
of my spare time when I did not happen to
be going out to dinner, and when I came home,
I worked on just the same. Until towards the end
of seventy five I drew blood for the first time.
Oh a joy of that first bit of money, my
(06:19):
first earnings. And it was but a bit a mere scrap,
to be explicit, It amounted to ten shillings. I went
and bought a watch on the strength of it, not
a very costly affair, a matter of two pounds ten
and an old silver turnip that I had by me.
(06:39):
It was wonderful how that one half sovereign opened up
my ideas. I looked into the future as far as
I could see, and I saw myself earning an income.
For at that time of day I had acquired no
artistic feelings at all, and I genuinely wanted to make
name and fame and money. I saw myself a young
(07:00):
young woman who could make a couple of hundred pounds
from one novel, and I gloried in the prospect. I
disposed of a good many stories in the same quarter,
at starvation prices ranging from the original ten shillings to
thirty five. Then, after a patient year of this not
(07:21):
very luxurious work, I made a step forward and got
a story accepted by the dear Old Family Herald. Oh. Yes,
this is really all relevant to my first book, very
much so indeed, For it was through mister William Stevens,
one of the proprietors of the Family Herald, that I
learned to know the meaning of the word caution, a
(07:43):
word absolutely indispensable to any young author's vocabulary. At this
time I wrote a great deal for the Family Herald
and also various magazines, including London Society. In the latter
my first winter work appeared, a story called A Regimental Martyr.
(08:04):
I was very oddly pleased at this point of my career,
for I liked most doing the winter work, but the
ordinary young lady like fiction paid me so much the
best that I could not afford to give it up.
I was, like all young magazine writers, passionately desirous of
appearing in book form. I knew not a single soul
(08:27):
in the way connected with literary matters, had absolutely no
help or interest of any kind to aid me over
the rough places, or even of whom to ask advice
in times of doubt and difficulty. Mister William Stevens was
the only editor that I knew to whom I could
go and say is this right? Or is that wrong?
(08:49):
And I think it may be interesting to say here
that I have never asked for, nor indeed used a
letter of introduction in my life that is in connection
with any literary business. Well, when I had been hard
at work for several years, I wrote a very long
book upon my word. In spite of my good memory,
(09:09):
I forget what it was called. The story, however, lives
in my mind well enough. It was the story of
a very large family, about ten girls and boys, who
all made brilliant marriages and lived a sort of shabby,
idelly happy life somewhat on the plan of God for
us all, and the devil take the hindermost need I
(09:33):
say that it was told in the first person, in
the present tense, and that the heroine was anything but
good looking. I was very young then, and thought a
great deal of my pretty bits of writing and those
seductive scraps of moralizing against which mister Stevens was always
warning me. Well, this very long, not to say spun
(09:56):
out account of this very large family of boys girls
did not happen to please the readers for the Family Herald,
then my stay by. So I thought I would have
a try round the various publishers and see if I
could not get it brought out in three volumes. Of course,
I tried all the best people first, and very often
(10:19):
when I receive from struggling young authors who know a
great deal more about my past history than I do myself,
and who frequently write to ask me the best and
easiest way to get on at novel writing without either
hard work or waiting or disappointment, Because, if you please,
my own beginnings were so singularly successful and delightful the
(10:42):
information that I have never known of any of their troubles.
It seems to me that my past and my present
cannot be the past and present of the same woman.
Yet they are. I went through it all, the same
sickening disappointments, the same hopes and fears. I trod the
self same path that every beginner must assuredly tread, as
(11:05):
we must all in time tread that other path to
the grave. I went through it all, and with that
exceedingly long and detailed account of that large and shabby family,
I trod the thorny path of publishing, almost to the
bitter end, ay, even to the goal where we find
the full blown swindler waiting for us with bland looks
(11:27):
and honeyed words of sweetest flattery. Dear, Dear, many who
read this will know the process. It seldom varies. First,
I sent my carefully written manuscript, whose very handwriting betrayed
my youth, to a certain firm which had offices of
the strand to be considered for publication. The firm very
(11:51):
kindly did consider it, and their consideration was such that
they made me an offer of publication on certain terms.
Their polite note informed me that their readers had read
the work and thought very highly of it, that they
were inclined, just by the way of completing their list
for the approaching September, the best months in the year
(12:13):
for bringing out novels, to bring it out, although I
was as yet unknown to fame. Then came the first
hint of the consideration, which took the form of a
hundred pounds to be paid down in three sums, all
to fall due before the day of publication. I worked
out the profits which could accrue if the entire edition
(12:37):
sold out. I found that in that case I should
have a nice little sum for myself of hundred and
eighty pounds. Now, no struggling young author, in his or
her senses, is silly enough to throw away the chance
of making one hundred and eighty pounds in one lump,
I thought, And I thought the whole scheme out, and
(12:59):
I must confessed that the more I thought about it,
the more utterly tempting did the offerseem to risk one
hundred pounds and to make hundred and eighty pounds. Why
it was a positive sin to lose such a chance.
Therefore I scraped a hundred pounds together, and with my
mother set off for London, feeling that at last I
(13:22):
was going to conquer the world. We did a theater
on the strength of my coming good fortune, and the
morning after our arrival in town, set off, in my
case at all events, with swelling hearts to keep the
appointment with the kindly publisher who was going to put
me in the way of making fame and fortune. I
(13:43):
opened the door and went in. Is mister at home?
I asked. I was forthwith conducted to an inner sanctum,
where I was received by the head of the firm himself.
Then I experienced my first shock. He squinted. Now I
never could endure a man with a squint, and I
(14:05):
distrusted this man instantly. You know, there are squints and squints.
There is a soft and certain squint feminine, which is
really charming. And there is a particular obliquity of vision
which in a man rather gives a larky expression, and
so makes you feel that there is nothing prim and
(14:26):
formal about him, and seems to put you on good
terms at once. And there is a cold blooded squint
which makes your flesh creep, and which, when taken in
connection with business, brings little stories to your mind. Is
any one coming, sister Anne? And that sort of thing?
(14:46):
Mister asked me to excuse him for a moment while
he gave some instructions, and without waiting for my permission,
looked through a few letters, shouted a message down a
speaking tube, and then, after having arranged the face of
about half a dozen novels by the means of the
same instrument, he sent a final message down the tube
asking for my manuscript, only to be told that he
(15:09):
would find it in the top right hand drawer of
his desk. As a matter of fact, all this delay
intended to impress me and make me understand what a
great thing had happened to me in having one attention
from so busy a man simply did for mister so
far as I was concerned. Instead of impressing me, it
(15:31):
gave me time to get used to the place. It
gave me time to look at mister when he was
not looking at me. Then, having found the manuscript, he
looked at me and prepared to give me his undivided attention. Well,
he said, with a long breath, as if it was
quite a relief to see a new face. I am
(15:53):
very glad you have decided to close with our offer.
We confidently expect a great success with your book. We
shall have to change the title, though there is a
good deal in a title. I replied modestly that there
was a good deal in a title. But I added,
I have not closed with your offer. On the contrary,
(16:15):
I He looked up sharply and squinted worse than ever. Oh,
I quite thought that you had definitely not at all,
I replied, then added a piece of information which could not,
by any chance have been new to him. A hundred
pounds is a lot of money, you know, I remarked.
(16:37):
Mister looked at me in a meditative fashion. Well, if
you have not got the money, he said, rather contemptuously,
we might make a slight reduction, say if we brought
it down to seventy five pounds, solely because our readers
have spoken so highly of the story. Now look here,
I will show you what our reader says, which is
(16:59):
a favor that we do don't extend to every one
that I can tell you here. It is probably in
the whole of his somewhat checkered career as a publisher,
mister never committed such a fatal mistake as by handing
me the report on my history in detail of that
very large family of boys and girls bright crisp Razy.
(17:22):
It ran very unequal in parts once a good deal
of revision, and should be entirely rewritten. Would be better
if the story was brought to a conclusion when the
heroine first meets with a hero after the parting, as
all the rest forms an anti climax. This might be
worked up into a really popular novel, especially as it
(17:43):
is written very much in miss A style, naming a
then very popular authorss whose sole merit consisted in being
the most faithful imitator of the gifted founder of a
very pernicious school. I put the sheet of paper, were down,
feeling very sick and ill. And the worst of it
(18:05):
was I knew that every word of it was true.
I was young and inexperienced then, and had not know
enough to say plump out that my eyes had been opened,
and that I could see that I should be neither
more nor less than a fool If I wasted a
single farthing over a story that must be utterly worthless.
(18:27):
So I prevaricated mildly and said that I certainly did
not feel inclined to throw a hundred or even seventy
five pounds away over a story without some certainty of success.
I'll think it over during the day, I said, rising
from my chair. Oh we must know within an hour.
At the outside, mister said, very curtly. Our arrangements will
(18:52):
not wait, and the time is very short now for
us to decide on our books for September. Of course,
if you have not got the money, we might reduce
a little more. We are always glad if possible to
meet our clients. It's not that, I replied, looking at
him straight, I have the money in my pocket. But
(19:13):
a Yorkshire woman does not put down a hundred pounds
without some idea what is going to be done with it.
You must let me have your answer within an hour,
mister remarked briefly. I will, I said, in my most
polite manner, But I really must think out the fact
that you are willing to knock off twenty five pounds
(19:35):
at one blow. It seems to me. If you could
afford to take that much off, and perhaps a little more,
then there must be something very odd about your original offer.
My time is precious, said mister in a grumpy voice.
Then good morning, said I cheerfully. My hopes were all
(19:57):
dashed to the ground again, but I felt very cheerful. Nevertheless,
I trotted around to my friend mister Stevens, who gave
a whistle of astonishment at my story. I'll send my
head clerk round for your manuscript at once, he said,
else you'll probably never see it again. And so he did,
and so ended my next attempt to bring out my
(20:18):
first book. After this, I felt very keenly the real
truth of the old saying, virtue is its own reward.
For Not long after my episode with mister the then
editor of London Society wrote to me saying that he
thought that as I had already had several stories published
(20:40):
in the magazine, it might make a very attractive volume
if I could add a few more and bring them
out as a collection of soldiers stories. I did not
hesitate very long over this offer, but set to work
with all the enthusiasm of youth. And youth does have
the advantage of being full of the fire of enthusiasm
nothing else, and I turned out enough news stories to
(21:03):
make a very respectable volume. Then followed the period of
waiting to which all literary folk must accustom themselves. I was, however,
always of a tolerably long suffering disposition, and possessed my
soul in patience as well as I could. The next
thing I heard was that the book had very good prospects,
(21:25):
but that it would have its chances greatly improved if
it were in two volumes instead of being in only one. Well,
youth is generous, and I did not see the wisdom
of spoiling the ship for the traditional hap worth of tar.
So I cheerfully set to work and evolved another volume
of stories, all of smart long legged soldiers, and with
(21:48):
as Heaven knows, no more idea of setting myself up
as possessing all knowledge about soldiers and the service than
I had of aspiring to the crown of the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. But even then I
had need of a vast amount of patience, for time
went on, and really my book seemed as far from
(22:09):
publication as ever. Every now and then I had a
letter telling me that the arrangements were nearly completed and
that it would probably be brought up by Messrs So
and so. But days wore into weeks, and weeks into months,
until I really began to feel as if my first
literary babe was doomed to die before it was born.
(22:31):
Then arose a long haggle over terms which I had
thought were settled, and to be on the same terms
as a magazine rates no such wonderful scale. After all, however,
my literary guide, philosopher and friend thought, as he was
doing me the inestimable service of bringing me out, that
twenty pounds was an ample honorarium for myself. But I,
(22:55):
being young and poor, did not see things in the
same light at all. Try as I would, and I
cannot lay claim to trying very hard, I could not
see why a man who had never seen me should
have put himself to so much trouble out of a
spirit of pure philanthropy and a desire to help a
struggling young author forward. So I obstinately kept to my
(23:19):
point and said, if I did not have thirty pounds,
I would rather have all of the stories back again.
I think nobody would credit to day what that special
bit of firmness cost me. Still, I would cheerfully have
died before I would have given in, having once conceived
my claim to be a just one, a bad habit
(23:41):
on the whole, and one that has since cost me
dear more than once. Eventually, my guide and I came
to terms for the sum for which I had held out,
namely thirty pounds, which was the price I received from
my very first book, in addition to that eight pounds
that I had already had from the magazine for serial
(24:01):
use of a few of the stories. So in due
course my book, under the title of Cavalry Life, was
brought out in two great cumbersome volumes by Messrs Chatteau
and Windus, and I was launched upon the world as
a full blown author under the name of Winter. So
(24:21):
many people have asked me why I took that name
and how I came to think of it, that it
will not perhaps be amiss if I give the reason
in this paper. It happened like this. During our negotiations,
my guide suggested that I had better take some gnome decare,
as it would never do to bring out such a
book under a woman's name. Make it as real sounding
(24:46):
and non committing as you can, he wrote. And so,
after much cogitation and cudgeling of my brains, I chose
the name of the hero of the only story of
the series, which was written in the first person and
called My Jay as Winter. I believed that Cavalry Life
was published on the last day of eighteen eighty one.
(25:09):
Then followed the most trying time of all, that of
waiting to see what the press would say of this,
my first child, which had been so long in coming
to life, and had been chopped and changed, bundled from
pillar to post until my heart was almost worn out
before ever it saw the light. Then, on January fourteenth,
(25:31):
eighteen eighty two, I went into the subscription library at York,
where I was living, and began to search the new
journals through in. But feinnt hopes, however, of seeing a
review of my book so soon as that, for I
was quite alone in the world so far as literary
matters went. Indeed, not one friend did I possess who
(25:53):
could in any way influence my career or obtain the
slightest favor for me. I remember that morning so well
it is I think printed on my memory as the
word Callah was on the heart of Queen Mary. It
was a fine, cold morning, and there was a blazing
fire in the inner room where the reviews were kept.
(26:16):
I sat down at the table and took up this
Saturday Review, never dreaming for a moment that I should
be honored by so much as a mention in a
journal which I held in such awe and respect. And
as I turned over the leaves, my eyes fell on
a row of footnotes at the bottom of the page,
giving the names of the books which were noticed above,
(26:38):
and among them I saw Cavalry Life by Jay S. Winter.
For full ten minutes I sat there, feeling sick and
more fit to die than anything else. I was perfectly
incapable of looking at the notice above. But at last
I plucked up courage to meet my fate, very much
(26:59):
as one summons up courage to have a tooth out
and get the horrid wrench over. Judge of my surprise
and joy when on reading the notice I found that
this Saturday had given me a rattling good notice, praising
the new author heartily and without stint. I shall never,
(27:20):
as long as I live, forget the effect of that
my first review upon me. For quite half an hour,
I sat without moving, only feeling I shall never be
able to keep it up, I shall never be able
to follow it up by another. I felt paralyzed, faint, crushed,
(27:41):
anything but elated and jubilant. Then, at last, through some instinct,
I put my hand up to my head to find
that it was cold and wet, as if it had
been dipped in the river. Thank Heaven. From that day
to this I have never known what a cold sweat was.
It was my first experience of such a thing, and
(28:03):
sincerely I hope it will be my last. End of
Chapter eighteen
Popular Podcasts
NFL Daily with Gregg Rosenthal
Gregg Rosenthal and a rotating crew of elite NFL Media co-hosts, including Patrick Claybon, Colleen Wolfe, Steve Wyche, Nick Shook and Jourdan Rodrigue of The Athletic get you caught up daily on all the NFL news and analysis you need to be smarter and funnier than your friends.
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com