They have been compelled to
come in--sometimes with a lasso, sometimes with a revolver, sometimes with
a lure of flattery; but they have been captured. American editors are much
better than English editors in this supreme matter. The profound truth has
not escaped them that good copy does not as a rule fly in unbidden at the
office window. They don't idiotically pretend that they have far more of
the right kind of stuff than they know what to do with, as does the
medium-fatuous English editor. They cajole. They run round. They hustle.
The letters which I get from American editors are one of the joys of my
simple life. They are so un-English. They write: "Won't you be good enough
to let us hear from you?" Or, "We are anxious [underlined] to see your
output." Imagine that from an English editor! And they contrive to say
what they mean, picturesquely. One editor wrote me: "We want material that
will hit the mark without producing either insomnia or heart-failure." An
editor capable of such self-expression endears himself at once to any
possible contributor. And, above all, they do not fear each other, as ours
do, nor tremble at the thought of Mrs. Grundy (I mean the best ones). A
letter which I received only a few days ago ended thus: "We are not
running the magazine for the benefit of the Young Person, and we are not
afraid of Realism so long as it is interesting.
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