A short story must be a picture out of real life which gives the reader a definite sensation, such as he gets upon looking at a masterpiece of painting. While it must be complete in itself, the art of it lies in what it suggests to the reader beyond its own limits. That is to say, it must convey an idea much larger than itself. This is the open sesame to the golden principle. (This is well illustrated in the story that took the first prize.)

Every short story must of necessity deal with human beings, either directly or indirectly. It must reveal in the briefest manner possible—as it were, like a lightning flash—a situation that carries the reader beyond it. It is, therefore, inevitable that the supreme test of the short story lies in its climax. The climax must gather up everything that has gone before, and perhaps by only one word epitomize the whole situation in such a way as to produce in the reader a sense of revelation—just as if he were the sole spectator of a supremely interesting human mystery now suddenly made plain.

The technique of the short story should be such that no word in its vocabulary will suggest triteness or the fatal thought that the author is dependent upon others for his phrasing. When, for example, we read “With a glad cry she threw her arms about him” “A hoarse shout went up from the vast throng” “He flicked the ashes,” we know at once that the author is only dealing in echoes.

These were some of the general considerations which governed the readers and judges, but it would be unfair to say that there were not other considerations which came up later on. In a number of instances, manuscripts which were interesting and well written, and even longer than others that were accepted for the contest, were rejected because it was felt that they were not really stories, but more in the nature of descriptive sketches.

So far as the practical method pursued was concerned, it will not be amiss to state briefly how the work was carried on.

It was deemed best, on general principles, to let the authors of the stories have a hand in the matter, the editors feeling frankly that they preferred a disinterested method which would relieve them in a measure from the fullest responsibility. The conditions were therefore made to read that:

“The editors of ‘Life’ will first select out of all the stories published, the twelve which are, in their judgment, the best. The authors of these twelve stories will then be asked to become judges of the whole contest, which will then include all the stories published. These twelve authors will decide which are the best three stories, in the order of their merit, to be awarded the prizes. In case for any reason any one or more of these twelve authors should be unable to act as a judge, then the contest will be decided by the rest.

“Each of these twelve judges will, of course, if he so wishes, vote for his own story first, so that the final result may probably be determined by the combined second, third, and fourth choices of all the judges. This, however, will not affect the result. In case of a division among the judges, the Editors of ‘Life’ will cast the deciding vote.”

This method worked well and was fully justified by the final result. As the manuscripts were received they were registered according to a careful clerical system and turned over to the readers, who were from five to seven in number, including three women. The rule was that each story should be read independently by at least two readers, their verdicts separately recorded. If they were unanimous in rejecting a story, it was returned. If they were agreed upon its merits, or if they were at all doubtful, it was then passed up to the five members of Life’s editorial staff. It was read and reread by them, and the individual comments of each editor recorded independently. By this sifting process, each story was subjected to a final process of discussion and elimination. The stories, as accepted, were paid for on the basis of ten cents a word for all the words under 1,500 which the story did not contain and were published in Life. From the authors of the eighty-one stories published, the editors selected the following twelve judges, each one of whom consented to serve:

These judges, independently of each other, sent in their opinions, several of them not voting for their own stories as the first prize, although this was allowable under the rules. There was no difficulty on their part in awarding the first prize of one thousand dollars and the second prize of five hundred dollars. In the case of the third prize there was such a division of opinion that the editors, under the rule of the competition that gave them the final decision, determined that it would be fair to divide the third prize between two competitors who had received the same number of the judges’ votes.