The Freelance Journalist, The New Self-Educator
This article first appeared in The Harmsworth Self-Educator, page 3934. While this edition is not dated, most articles for the Self-Educator were written in the late 19th century or early 20th century.
Contents
A Career Calling for Courage. The Temptation of London. How to Read the Papers. Editors and Contributors. Why Articles come Back.
The Free-Lance Journalist
THE man who succeeds in journalism as a free-lance holds one of the most enviable positions in the world. He is tied to neither time nor place. He can work where he will, when he will, as he will. If he lays his plans well, and organises his life well, he may live an almost ideal life. He has the happiest position in journalism. Others may prefer to be editors, with all the anxiety and potentiality for sleepless nights that editing brings, but the free-lance has the success of journalism without its worries, its influence without its penalties. For the ideal journalist the freedom of the free-lance is the ideal life.
Always at His Best. We have made up our minds what the ideal journalist should be, and the free-lance must have his qualities in ample abundance. There are some qualities that are specially his. He lives a life of great intensity, which will admit of no dissipation of energy, which insists upon method, regularity, punctuality, and application There is no severer test of a good journalist than six months as a free-lance, and no man who is bad journalist survives the test.
The successful free-lance is invariably a good journalist, because his success is the result of the work of his brain, and is not due to any of the varied circumstances that may keep a merely mechanical journalist in regular employment inside a newspaper office. The free-lance has a barometer for testing the quality of his work which never fails him. His income depends entirely upon his keeping up to the mark, and the freedom which he has given himself in his career is a discipline which must be constantly making him a better man and a better workman. He can never say to himself with impunity, as, perhaps, the regular journalist can, that he will not take much trouble with this, or will quickly dispose of that, or will neglect the other altogether. Such things spell ruin for him. The free-lance journalist must be always at his best.
A Rare Courage. And, because of this, he must have a courage that is one of the rarest things in the world -- the courage to cut off his income at any moment. He will find that the strain is at times greater than he can bear, and there is only one penalty, as tragic as it is sure, for the man who neglects the warning that Nature always gives in time. No man should rely upon a free life as a journalist who is not prepared to face the risk of having to stop his income for a week or a month or a longer period at the bidding of a master who cannot be disobeyed. Let us go further, and say that no man should rely upon a free life as a journalist who cannot establish himself upon a foundation so strong that he can lay aside his Work for a time without running the risk of losing it. The man who holds his work by the quality of it need not trouble greatly about resting from it. Yet this is one of the chief perils of free-lance journalism. To take a holiday means to be for the time without an income, and, even when the normal income is great enough to allow it, this course is not easy to contemplate. But it is one of the first things that a man must be prepared to do when he sets out upon a career in which freedom can only be enjoyed at freedom's price.
Chief, perhaps, of all the practical essentials to success as a free-lance is method. The freelance journalist must be prepared to write about anything at any time, and only method can make this possible. This subject, however, is considered fully in the final article in this course, on the Journalist's System. We need only discuss now some of the more obvious ways and means by which the free-lance may establish himself.
An Intimate Knowledge of Papers. The first thing that he should do is to make himself familiar with the papers for which he wants to write. It is amazing how often this essential condition, surely the simplest and most obvious thing in the world, is disregarded. A man who thought a great deal more of himself than his capacity justified called upon an editor the other day for an introduction to another editor. "I used to see his paper fourteen years ago," said this remarkable young man, "but I have not seen it of late years, and I should like to write for it." "Then the best introduction I can give you is to the nearest bookstall," said the editor; and he was perfectly right. It is impertinent to expect to contribute articles to a paper with which one is not familiar, and the free-lance would do well to make up his mind for which papers he would like to work. He will find the field wide and varied, and open on every hand; and he will find that there is no safe guide through any part of it except his own ability and the experience of those who have been that way.
It is assumed in this course that what is wanted is to know how to begin at the bottom rather than what to do at the top, and no attempt is made here to help the journalist who knows his business. And, assuming that our journalist is a beginner in free-lance journalism, all that is attempted here is to help him to set his feet firmly on this broad highway. Two things should be said. Unless he has had newspaper experience, a young man would be unwise to depend upon free-lance journalism for his bread-and-butter; and even with a newspaper training the journalist may make the most serious mistake of his life by leaving a sure and steady post in a provincial town for a less steady but more brilliant post in London. Those who have read this course so far have not found in it any great sympathy with the timidity which holds men back on the verge of great opportunities, but it is well to utter a warning to those journalists who, succeeding well on a quiet provincial paper, imagine that all they have to do to distinguish themselves and win fortune is to take a single ticket to King's Cross and pick up gold in Fleet Street.
The Provincial Journalistic Temptation. It is the saddest of delusions, and a great book could be filled with tragedies that had no other beginning than this. It cannot be repeated too emphatically that the conditions of journalism in London are utterly different from the conditions outside London, and if it is possible to frame any piece of counsel likely to be applicable to all journalists, at all times, in all circumstances, that counsel is never to give up a post in the provinces to come to London unless a definite post is offered; never, in response to any persuasion, to let go a bird in hand in the provinces for two birds, or even for three or four birds, in a London bush. The writer could tell of many journalists who }oft provincial newspapers to come to London. Three occur to mind at the moment who came to London within a few years of each other from the same provincial town, each of whom has an income to-day greater than any he could have obtained in any possible post m the provinces. But each of the three came to a definite post, with no kind of risk except the risk common to any change. There comes to mind, on the other hand, the case of the only man the writer knows who came to London without a secure post. He made friendships which brought him influence, but no journalist in this world has ever succeeded entirely through influence, and his career is a failure.
This course is not for the man who can fling defiance at probabilities, or for the born journalist who needs neither help nor warning; but the journalist inclined to risk coming to London with no other support than an empty optimism and the example of somebody else will be wise to heed this counsel and let it give him pause.
What to Write and Where to Send it. Arrived in London, the journalist will order from his newsagent an abundant stock of newspapers and magazines, and will consider no time lost that is spent in reading them. His own instincts will guide him to the right papers. If he will spend a shilling at a bookstall every week, keep a close eye on the magazine departments of the halfpenny newspapers, and study all the London evening papers intimately, he will soon come to understand the kind of copy editors are waiting for. It would fill far too much space to make an adequate list of papers and the kind of articles they like, but there is a much better reason than this for not doing so. The journalist who needs such a list had better at once give up the attempt to earn his living as a free-lance. He has missed the great essentials It is the very first condition of his success that, having written his article, he shall know where to send it with the utmost probability of success.
He may find, however, that his difficulties begin long before he comes to send in his article. He may be puzzled, though it is greatly to be hoped that he will not, by the thought, "what shall I write about?" It is to be hoped that this problem will not trouble him, because there is no excuse for the journalist with nothing to write about. It is the unpardonable sin. The true journalist has always more subjects than he can deal with, and by a process of elimination makes up his mind which to use. Many considerations will influence him in making this decision, varying according to time and circumstance and the character of the paper for which he writes. But if he knows how to read the papers, and where to put his hand at once on material, he will find there is no famine in the Land of Good Copy.
Notes from a Morning Diary. Let us take up the first morning paper that comes to our hand and see what a rich harvest it is to the man who has a fountain-pen, a pad of paper, a good library, and an alert mind. It has in it the potentialities of a hundred articles, and only a few ideas are set down here, exactly as they come to mind in a ten minutes' glance at the paper. They are set down without any attempt to "dress them up" or "round them off," and they pretend to be nothing but what they actually are -— the rough mental notes of a journalist on going over a morning paper.
WHEN A NEW IDEA COMES INTO THE WORLD. How a new invention or the discovery of a new system kills an old one; the remarkable commercial effect of the change -— suggested by a paragraph announcing the cancel of Government orders based on a superseded system.
THE UNSEEN WEALTH OF THE CHURCH. An article on the mineral royalties on ecclesiastical property -— suggested by a paragraph on the estates of the Bishopric of Durham.
THE WORLD'S UNREALISED DEBT TO ENGLAND. "When England intervenes"; behind the scenes in diplomacy -- suggested by a speech.
HOW A GROOM MADE £100,000. A public calamity which a clever man knew how to turn to his own good —- suggested by a will.
IMMORTAL NOBODIES. A shoemaker who fooled a nation, and a host of other cases -— suggested by the trial of "Captain" Koepenick.
HOW MANY PEOPLE EARN £1,000 A YEAR? Where they earn it, and how -- suggested by the report of the Commission on Income Tax.
THE HIDDEN PERILS OF ALL OUR LIVES. The dangers we run in everyday life but rarely think of -— suggested by the breaking of a wire On an electric tramway.
A VISION OF A NEW WORLD. A forecast and a reality in the new science; a glimpse of "a totally new and unexpected world" -— suggested by a speech of Sir William Ramsay.
THE ALADDIN'S LAMPS OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. The great commercial potentialities of the Empire, and the way to realize them -— suggested by a picturesque phrase in a speech.
WAVE WE TWO PERSONALITIES? The power in us that sleeps when we wake, and wakes when we sleep -— suggested by a law case and a story of drawings made under "influence."
Do THE ROTHSCHILDS EARN THEIR INCOME? Or is it unearned increment? —- suggested by the Income Tax Report.
"THINKING OUT" A BATTLESHIP. The incredible marvels of battleships -— suggested by the death of a man who designed battleships for half the navies in the world.
RICH PEOPLE WITH NO USE FOB MONEY. The extraordinary things they do with it -— suggested by a curious story of hidden money.
Nothing is Old Under the Sun. So, if we had space, we might go on, fascinated by the ideas that leap to us wherever we turn. We have glanced rapidly through one paper, and there are a dozen papers, all different. It is important to the journalist not to make the fatal mistake of thinking, as the public is apt to think, that all papers are the same. In their appeal to the mind no two papers are the same. There may be a world of difference in the way in which two papers put the same thing, and the same thing put in different ways may bring quite different ideas to the mind.
Many years ago, a House of Commons gallery man called one night at his old office in a Midland town, and the junior member of the stair manifested a keen interest in what he had to say about life in the House of Commons. It was all new to him, and the conversation opened up a new avenue of interest. "I will write an article about it," he said. The older men laughed. "These young men don't know that all this has been done before," said a sage subeditor, who had sub-edited telegrams at the same desk for forty years. "I understand that quite well," said the junior reporter. "It is all very commonplace to you, but it is new to me, and everything depends on the way it is put." The sub-editor sat at his desk until, in the fulness of time, he died; the junior reporter rapidly rose to be an editor in London. The junior was quite right. Nothing is old under the sun. One man's knowledge is another man's news, and, even to the man who knows, the subject may be presented with all the freshness of a new outlook and a virgin enthusiasm.
"Everything has been Done." The population of greater London is seven millions: how many articles, one wonders, are there in that fact? How many books have been written out of it? It is a fact that everybody knows, yet it is a fact that can be written about by a thousand men in different ways, or by one man in a thousand ways, without ever wearying us or driving us to say "I knew that before." There is nobody so hopeless as the man who discards a subject merely because "it has been done before." If the subject had any inherent interest yesterday, it has the same inherent interest to-day. There may, of course, be a hundred reasons why it need not be written about to-day, but the fact that it was written about yesterday is no reason at all.
It is the superficial journalist who, seizing upon the obvious and ignoring the deeper interest, gives way to the feeling that "everything has been done." Everything has two interests; every substance has its shadow, and of substances. One of the cleverest journalists the writer knows was once in one of the most beautiful rooms in Europe. There is probably no room anywhere with a greater number of interests from a greater number of points of view. One of its interests is a diamond —- a dazzling thing of transcendent beauty which has figured in the history of Europe, and is stained with the blood of many wars. It is an experience to have looked upon a thing so historic; it is an asset in every journalist's career to come in touch with people and places and things that have made or have been used in the making of history.
The Journalist's Interest in Realities. But it is easy to make a mistake here, and our clever journalist made it. He sacrificed the substance for the shadow. He spent all his time in looking at the diamond, and the thousand other things made no impression on his mind. Yet they were of equal interest, and it can hardly be doubted that a general impression of the room and its contents as a whole would have been a much more valuable contribution to the mind of the journalist than a much stronger impression of one thing in the room. And the journalist was doubly wrong, from our point of view, for he was interested in the diamond because there is a story about it, because of an accidental circumstance, and not because of anything inherent the diamond itself. It would not have mattered, so far as the impression on him was concerned, if the diamond had been another diamond, or even a piece of clay, since what impressed him was not the thing he saw, but a story that it brought - to mind; and the lesson of this is that our gain is all the greater if we are interested in things intrinsically rather than in things for their associations' sake. The journalist's interest in the diamond will pass away, because his lasting interest is not in the gem, but in a story about it; and the gain to him of his visit to the Louvre will pass away to that extent. Had his interest been excited in the diamond as a thing of wondrous beauty, it would have remained with him. As it was he left without any adequate impression of the vast intrinsic beauty of the room, its abundance of treasure, its wonder of craftsmanship, its amazing collection of things all as compelling as that little bit of it which he allowed to steal away all his time.
A Sound Foundation of Knowledge. The example will not have been quoted in vain if it helps us to appreciate the vast difference between a thing itself and its associations. That does not mean, of course, that the associations have no legitimate interest for the journalist. On the contrary, he is the best journalist who knows most of these things, who knows all the. stories and incidents and accidents and circumstances which make up the environment of all concrete things. The point of all that has been said is, not that the story is uninteresting or even unimportant, but that the wise journalist fixes his interest in the things themselves rather than in their associations, in things that are permanent rather than in incidents that pass; that his knowledge is at the root rather than hanging on the branch.
If his foundation is thus sound, he can erect any superstructure upon it, and the more varied the superstructure is the more certain his success as a journalist will be. With his interest thus fixed in the substance, he will miss nothing that is interesting in the shadow, and he will find that the day never comes when there is nothing in the papers for him to write about.
The Ideal Contributor. His subject found, his article written, and his paper in mind, the next interest of the free-lance is to reach his editor. Here the simplest advice is far the best. He should send his article to the editor in the ordinary way. He need not bother about introductions. If he can get them easily so much the better, and as a means of reaching an editor an introduction is often useful; it sometimes sets up a connection which might otherwise take a long time to establish. But that is all that introductions can do. Nine introductions out of ten only annoy an editor, and introductions have ceased to have much weight because they are too often used by those who have no merit of their own to introduce them. It may be taken as universally true that an editor has much more esteem for the contributor who sends him a good article than for the would-be contributor whose first excuse for calling or writing is that he knows somebody who knows the editor.
An interesting article might be written on how to manage an editor, but we can do no more here than give one or two hints. We have been considering all through this course ideal journalists and ideal papers; let us consider for a moment the ideal contributor. He has behind him a system such as we shall come to consider in due course, enabling him to write on any subject at any time. He is always available, always reliable, always prompt. He does not worry the editor with unnecessary letters or ask him to wire if he accepts an article. He regards an editor as a gentleman, and does not intrude into an editor's room, as a journalist bearing a well-known name did the other day, violently demanding an explanation why an article sent the day before had not been returned. He does not ask an editor to verify quotations, or to post an article on to another paper if his own paper cannot use it. He does not call himself "Author and Journalist" on his notepaper, or put " M.J.I." on his card, or address himself "Esq." on his return envelopes. He does not write "Will you look at an article if I knock one up?"
MS. He knows how to prepare an article. He uses thin paper of a regular size, easy to handle. He types neatly without many corrections, and sub-edits his manuscript with care. He belongs to the very, very small number of journalists whose copy an editor can send straight to the printers. He does not send out stained or crumpled manuscripts, or spend much time in explaining his talents in general or his reasons for writing one article in particular. He does not trouble much about money, and rarely asks an editor how much he will get for an article. He is in search of reputation and connection, and, however poor he is, these things are more to him than cheques. He never refuses to do an article if he can help it. He never writes such disgraceful letters as these:
"Hearing that you are the editor of a new publication, I wish to ask if you require a writer to do a few columns weekly. I did a page of birthday news weekly in the —— (a dead paper). Many of my dates have only been secured by personal application. I find amusement sometimes by printing the wrong dates and noticing which other birthday writers crib them and give themselves away. You will find it advantageous to retain me. I can do anecdotes about anybody."
"January 21st: On the 12th inst. you received a story from me entitled 'When We Two Went Maying.' As I have not received it back, I presume you are going to make use of same. Let me tell you that you cannot do so without first sending on a remuneration for same. Shall expect either one or the other within the course of a day or two. If I do not, shall put the matter before a solicitor. Yours sincerely, Sarah G——"
The ideal contributor can be relied on for brightness and originality, for giving the editor as little trouble as possible, for knowing the paper as well as the editor himself, for sending an article of the right length at the right moment. He is not discouraged if an article comes back, because he has learned by experience that often the last reason in the world why an article is returned is that the article is bad. He knows that a good article may be returned for a dozen reasons. The editor may have arranged for one on the same lines, or may have published one recently which the contributor did not notice; the article may clash with some other article that has been or is to be published; the treatment of the particular subject may be uncongenial to the editor; the editor's desk may be so congested with manuscripts that he has no right to keep the article until he can consider it. Even ideal contributors may be disappointed for reasons such as these, and the unideal contributor, of course, runs a hundred other risks of disappointment which he never seems to realise.
Contributors who Never Contribute. The writer who never gets into the papers has generally an explanation of his own; probably there is a plot against him among the editors. But it is really not the case that all the editors in England are taking great pains, at the risk of ruining their papers, to deprive the reading public of the intellectual output of Mr. Richard Tomkins or of Miss Susannah Jones. It is conceivable that there are other reasons. Their articles are probably far too long, or they may be unintelligible, or written on both sides of the paper, or underlined and crossed out in such a way that nobody can read them, or about things which interest nobody, or on subjects of which everybody is tired, or summer articles in winter, or winter articles in summer, or abstruse discussions of theology, or long exordiums on philosophy, or abusive articles on public men, or hysterical articles on private matters, or articles full of glaring errors, or essays as dry as dust, or politics opposed to the paper's own, or articles with libels in every line, or attacks on the paper's contemporaries, or insidious cultivating of private interests, or articles likely to be mischievous in the money market.
It would be possible to go on at any length giving reasons why papers do not publish articles. A glance at an editor's " rejected " box would be an effective lesson to amateur journalists who write whenever they can instead of only when they must, and allow their lives to be soured by the disappointments they bring upon themselves.
An Editor's Rejected Box. Let us take a peep into the rejected box of the editor of what are probably the most coveted columns in English journalism. They afford a journalist the most powerful pulpit that he can find in :England, and if the reader will remember this it will help him to understand the editor's point of view in sending back the dozen articles we have picked out for notice. We set out the authors' headings of the articles, along with an explanation why they were not accepted.
OUR DREADFUL MUSICAL LIKES AND DISLIKES. Not published for several reasons. 1. The style did not suit the paper. 2. The manuscript resembled a map of Europe with its mass of blots and corrections. 3. The article was twice as long as it should have been had it been twice as good as it was. 4. It was accompanied by this impertinent letter: "Dear Sir, If you are not brave enough to use the enclosed, will you kindly fold it twice, returning it in the enclosed cover? If it is to be used, will you please settle terms with me before it is put in type? "
BEHIND THE WALLS OF A LUNATIC ASYLUM. The writer declared it to be the most thrilling narrative ever seen on the subject, and wrote: " Please see that Mr.—— sees it. It is good enough for the Christmas number. I expect a cheque for it. If not accepted, return. Tell Mr. —— I expect £20 for it."
THE PRESENT-DAY SNOB. In sending the first of a series of six articles the writer, an example of the intolerable "smart" contributor, said: " I am desirous of seeking fame and, incidentally, cash, by asking you to read the enclosed article, the first of a series of six. If, however, the article is too feeble, and makes you feel at all peevish, be good enough to return it in the accompanying stamped envelope, and I will use it for pipe-lights."
OPPORTUNITIES IN THE EAST. Extract from author's letter: " i admit the writing is feeble, but perhaps, with many additions known best to an editor, you may find an odd corner in the least important of your publications. It is very much in season, and will do you good if it appears."
THE GATE OF EMPIRE. Not published in spite of the fact that a friend of the author wrote to the editor: "Will you be good enough to say when an article entitled 'The Gate of Empire ' is to appear, as I intend securing several copies of the paper ?"
VEGETARIAN AND FRUITARIANS v. MEAT EATERS. Extract from author's letter: "Would you be willing to take an essay on this subject? It would probably occupy eight or ten columns."
SANTA CLAUS. Extract from author's letter: "Perhaps the enclosed manuscript may be of use when you have nothing suitable at hand."
NO TITLE. Extract from author's letter: "I enclose an article for your Thursday issue. If you would like it re-written plainer I will do it."
A SHORT STORY. Extract from author's letter: " Mr. —— of the ——— ———, after reading the enclosed story, advised me to send it to you. I have for some time been trying to get a personal introduction to you, which I still hope to do, although I have so far been unsuccessful."
THE WILD AND WOOLLY WEST. Extract from author's letter: "You may blue pencil it as you see fit. I am after dollars, not glory. Of course, the stuff is original and exclusive. If you think it is 'fishy' any of the gang round the Cecil will O.K. it.
PROBLEMS ON JUGGERNAUT AND THE GREAT WORLD'S MISERY. Seven columns from a rector's wife.
TAR1FF REFORM. Extract from author's letter: "I beg to enclose an article. You will perceive I have not even troubled to correct or alter same. I have always written under the nom de plume 'Vincit veritias,' as I believe truth-always conquers, and can write more articles on the same subject."
Women in Journalism. The sensible contributor does not call, as a woman called at the office of the DAILY MAIL, to see "if there is any personal reason why articles are not accepted." He goes on writing until his articles are accepted, and until he has made his connection so secure that all anxiety concerning his manuscript comes to an end.
Nothing has been said in these articles as to journalism for women. It is true that there are certain departments of work in which women are useful, and, indeed, necessary, as contributors to magazines; and, more rarely, to newspapers. But the woman journalist is not usually a success. The conditions of journalism are not for her, and women are wise in confining themselves, if they write at all, to work involving none of the rush and anxiety of ordinary journalism. There are regular departments -— such as dress, health, cookery, and domestic interests generally -— which afford scope for the woman who has a stock of useful knowledge and a gifted pen. But this is not journalism proper, and from a professional point of view the prospect for women journalists is not particularly bright. Obviously, however, all that has been said of journalism applies to journalists apart from sex.
The Journalist's Income. The freelance who succeeds in journalism should be perfectly happy in his work. He may make any sort of income within reason. It is not surprising to hear of men who make £1,000 a year, though it is common enough to meet men who make the barest living. It is a highly creditable thing if a man can sit at home and make £500 a year by his pen, and, with some capacity for organization and the instinct of journalism within him, this should not be very difficult. It is a good plan to have a regular piece of work, such as two days a week in an office or a daily or weekly column of notes, and this security of an income sufficient to meet the bare needs of existence saves the free-lance from much anxiety. He should write only for papers that pay regularly, and should cultivate connections upon which he can rely.
With half a dozen papers to write for, a well-equipped library to work in, and good health, the journalist with a brain is the happiest man in the world. He is monarch of all he surveys, and would not change places with a king.
