Authors, English -- 20th century -- Biography; Bennett, Arnold, 1867-1931
THE TRUTH ABOUT
AN AUTHOR
NEW EDITION WITH PREFACE
BY
ARNOLD BENNETT
Author of "How to Live on 24 Hours a Day,"
"The Old Wives' Tale," etc.
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1911_
By George H. Doran Company
CONTENTS
PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION
Sometime in the last century I was for several years one of the most
regular contributors to "The Academy," under the editorship of Mr. Lewis
Hind and the ownership of Mr. Morgan Richards. The work was constant;
but the pay was bad, as it too often is where a paper has ideals. I well
remember the day when, by dint of amicable menaces, I got the rate
raised in my favor from ten to fifteen shillings a column, with a
minimum of two guineas an article for exposing the fatuity of popular
idols. One evening I met Mr. Lewis Hind at the first performance of some
very important play, whose name I forget, in the stalls of some theatre
whose name I forget. (However, the theatre has since been demolished.)
We began to talk about the "Academy", and as I was an editor myself, I
felt justified in offering a little advice to a fellow-creature. "What
you want in the 'Academy,'" I said, "is a sensational serial." "Yes, I
know," he replied, with that careful laziness of tone which used to mark
his more profound utterances, "and I should like you to write your
literary autobiography for us!" In this singular manner was the notion
of the following book first presented to me. It was not in the least my
own notion.
I began to write the opening chapters immediately, for I was fascinated
by this opportunity to tell the truth about the literary life, and my
impatience would not wait. I had been earning a living by my pen for a
number of years, and my experience of the business did not at all
correspond with anything that I had ever read in print about the
literary life, whether optimistic or pessimistic. I took a malicious and
frigid pleasure, as I always do, in setting down facts which are opposed
to accepted sentimental falsities; and certainly I did not spare myself.
It did not occur to me, even in the midst of my immense conceit, to
spare myself. But even had I been tempted to spare myself I should not
have done so, because there is no surer way of damping the reader's
interest than to spare oneself in a recital which concerns oneself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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