One wishes to mention, too, the black magic of “The Black Key,” by Joseph Hergesheimer, the rich embroideries of H. G. Dwight and Achmed Abdullah, the bold portraiture of Harvey O’Higgins, the subtly fine work of Marjory Morten. Also that exquisite study of innocence, “Red and White,” by Roland Pertwee; and Myla Jo Closser’s dog-story, “At the Gate.” It is impossible for any magazine to sustain regularly the level of its best fiction, for the simple reason that such stories do not happen frequently--would there were more of them! Those I have mentioned are among the best, in my judgment, that _The Century_ has published for several years, and it is towards work of such character that we are aiming. I take it, dear Miss Wick, that you have asked me to characterize some of our most cherished stories in order to show by concrete examples the kind of fiction _The Century_ wants; and I believe that you are right in thinking this plan the best way of saying it. Sincerely yours, ANNE STODDARD. _The Century Magazine._ 353 Fourth Avenue, New York City. COLLIER’S, THE NATIONAL WEEKLY When a writer wants to please an editor, the surest way is to forget all about him. The editor is not reading the story for his own entertainment. He reads with only one idea in mind: “Will this story appeal to all kinds of people? Is it a good story?” An editor of a magazine of general circulation seldom seeks one particular kind of story. He wants the best stories written. The quickest way to his favor is to write them. There are no set rules for accomplishing this. Only a few landmarks are on the road. Know your subject. Have something to tell. Be sure that something happens in the story. If nothing happens, if there is no action, you have perhaps written a very good essay or a very convincing argument--but you will not be able to sell it as a short story. Remember that you are writing a short story, not a condensed novel. A short story, once started, has only one object--to end as quickly as possible. There are only two people who can infallibly detect padding in a story. One is yourself. The other is the reader. It pays, always, to be clean. A questionable story will attract many people--but it will repel more. Few writers succeed in being convincing when they wander into fields they don’t know. Every man collects a mass of information concerning the road over which he has traveled, and the people he met on the way. Use this information. It will furnish all the short stories you can ever write. Just as people strive for “happy endings” in their own affairs, so they like them in stories which they read for entertainment. The enduring themes for short stories are the enduring themes in life itself; the old copybook virtues, like self-sacrifice, courage, generosity, resourcefulness and faith.