A critic here and there may—and often does—select some writer of freakish material and call him a genius, but that sort of genius is short-lived.
Freakish writing never lasts. Individual manner of telling a story, yes—that is essential to distinction. But individuality that endures results from personality that pleases.
No matter how much it may interest you to see a freak in a side-show, you would not want one as a lifelong friend. No matter how much it may interest you to see a piece of freakish writing, you would not keep it handy on your library shelves or table. As a curiosity, possibly; as a companion, never.
You will want lifelong friendship with the stories of the six writers here. They are real writing by real writers. And I am proud of the privilege of introducing you thus informally to these six writers, just as I am proud of the fact that they are such vital factors in the success of Cosmopolitan Magazine under my editorship. I think I may boast that no editor ever brought together a more distinguished group. But enough of myself and my views. Let's listen to my guests.
EDNA FERBER
FOREWORD
Most writers lie about the way in which they came to write this or that story. I know I do. Perhaps, though, this act can't quite be classified as lying. It is not deliberate falsifying. Usually we roll a retrospective eye while weaving a fantastic confession that we actually believe to be true. It is much as when a girl says to her sweetheart, "When did you begin to love me?" and he replies, "Oh, it was the very first time I saw you, when——" etc. Which probably isn't true at all. But he thinks it is, and she wants to think it is. And that makes it almost true.
It is almost impossible to tell just how a story was born. The process is such an intricate, painful, and complicated one. Often the idea that makes up a story is only a nucleus. The finished story may represent an accumulation of years. It was so in the case of the short story entitled "The Gay Old Dog."