(The following interview with H. Bedford-Jones appeared in the July 1926 issue of Writer's Digest, and was provided by Will Murray.)
A Large-Output Writer Talks
By J.R. Johnston
(An Interview with a Highly Successful Story Writer, H. Bedford-Jones, Who Combines Quality with Quantity)
Monday morning's mail brought a hearty response to my request for an interview with H. Bedford Jones.
"Sure!" he wrote. "Time and questions as you like. Say, Tuesday morning, any time until eleven."
So bright and early Tuesday morning -- if ten o'clock could possibly be called bright and early -- I walked up the steps of his residence in Michigan's university city and rang the bell. Mrs. Bedford-Jones was just going shopping, but she ushered me into the hallway and called: "Henry!"
The author himself, a tall handsome man with a decidedly distinguished appearance, came lightly down a stairway. I introduced myself and he shook hands with a comradely smile which I was soon to learn was usually near the surface.
"Take off your hat and coat," he said cordially. He took them from me and hung them up. Then he led the way into the parlor.
I settled myself in the comfortable chair he drew up for me, while he lolled indolently on a sofa.
"I've been told that you are the most prolific of present-day American writers," I smilingly hazarded, by way of a beginning. "Do you agree with such a statement?"
"Well, no," he laughed. "That might have been true a few years ago, but William Wallace Cook turns out more and better stuff than I do. I was once able to write a 25,000 word novelette in a day. Takes me a week now. Getting old, I guess."
Mr. Bedford-Jones certainly did not appear to be very old. He scarcely looked his thirty-nine years, though to be sure there were a few gray hairs to be seen on his head. His figure was slender and straight, almost military.
"But twenty-five thousand words a day!" I marveled. "Do you mean that you got your plot-ideas and everything, and wrote the entire story in a single day?"
He nodded smilingly.
"What is your opinion of the use of 'rules' in story writing?" I went on, feverishly taking notes.
"Of course we may be said to have certain rules," he replied. "And yet, in writing, even in commercial writing -- by which I mean large-production writing for the fiction markets -- there are no rules whatever. A story may be written that breaks every rule in the game -- and still be a world-beater. After all, principles and not rules are the lasting things. Learning rules can never be more than a beginning; we can learn not to make mistakes only by making them. Get the rules down pat, if you will, but then forget them. Sit down and write your story with all restrictions, relegated to the subconscious mind. Otherwise, what chance have you for originality?"
Just then the mail man came and Mr. Bedford-Jones excused himself for a moment. I was glad of the diversion, for it enabled me to catch up on my notes.
It was apparent that the author held refreshingly "unorthodox" views on certain points of writing -- at least from the viewpoint of academic theorists. But, as the inimitable Ring Lardner impertinently remarks, what of it? Surely the writer who has some forty published books to his credit, a hundred or so book-length novels, as many novelettes, and several hundred short stories in addition, is entitled to his own theories and a disregard for rules.
Consider also, as a case in point, that ninety-nine percent of Bedford-Jones' written work has sold. Just how many hundreds of thousands of words he turns out each year he was unable to say offhand, yet the total must be enormous.
"How do you get the material for your stories?" I resumed when the author again entered the room. "For instance, how did you get the material for Rodomont?"
The story I mentioned was of olden France, laid around a monastery on an island which, at low tide, could be reached via dry land. The tale had appeared serially in Adventure, and has since been published in book form.
"I've been in France for the past two years," the author answered. "I visited the place, an odd enough island off the French coast and imagination did the rest."
Travel is a great aid to the writer, Mr. Bedford-Jones believes. Not very long ago he could be found one day in a little mountain village in the West; the next sunrise saw him on his way with a little caravan of two automobiles, and darkness would find him miles distant, busy with the inevitable typewriter.
"What is your opinion of 'hack' writing?" I ventured. "Do you think the beginning writer should take it up or not?"
His ready smile flashed again.
"That depends upon whether the writer wants money or art. You hear the lament raised that there is too much commercialism in writing. Some writers have plenty of money and do not need pay for their work. But most of us must earn our living, and what better way for an author than by writing? Let the young writers write to sell; get themselves firmly established in 'hack writing,' or whatever you chose to call it. Then, if they feel the urge to turn out masterpieces they at least will not starve."
Mr. Bedford-Jones has a distinct aversion to sex stories, and also to the use of profane language. He holds that in the majority of cases proper effects can be obtained without the use of oaths at all, recourse to them implies inartistry.
"I don't believe I've seen any of your short stories lately," I next said.
"I've written few in the past five years. My work now is novels and novelettes."
"Do you find the longer type of story easier to write?"
"Much easier. In the short story everything must be condensed into as few words as possible. In the novelette you can expand. It's harder to boil down than to expand, you know."
"Most authors," I continued, scribbling hurriedly, "have a long struggle to win recognition -- "
He guessed what I had intended saying.
"I had the same trouble. At first I worked on small newspapers, then wrote juvenile tales. It was 'Uncle Bill' Cook who got me to writing for the fiction magazines."
He was not at all hesitant in acclaiming the man who had helped him over the bumps at the beginning of the road. It developed that William Wallace Cook had met him while he was working on a newspaper, and for some years had encouraged him, showing him what to do and what not to do in the construction of stories. Finally Mr. Cook sent one of his pupil's stories to a magazine and it was promptly accepted. Later, Mr. Fred Moore of The Argosy featured Mr. Bedford-Jones' work, and he found himself firmly established as a fiction writer.
"What is the source of your story or plot ideas?" I inquired. "Observation, reading, inspiration, or just plain imagination?"
"Imagination and reading, mostly," he replied. "Observation, of course, is of great importance not only to the writer who travels much but to the one who must find his material in his own neighborhood. By observation we learn how people act, and how they react to the situations into which they are drawn.
"But imagination exceeds all others in importance. One doesn't have to travel extensively if he can imagine correctly the places he wishes to write about. I once sent a long story laid in Algiers to an editor who had lived there. The story was accepted and the editor has ever since refused to believe I had never been in Algiers at all!
"Imagination, plus accuracy, will carry the writer a long way. Naturally, one must be very accurate with place names, with dates, or with fact in any story; for readers like to 'come back at' authors who do not adhere closely to actualities. It pays to he accurate, deadly accurate!"
I did not dispute that last statement. Rather, I had every reason to concur, for only the day before I had received a letter from an irate reader who declared that an article of mine was all wrong. I managed to convince him that it was he who was on the wrong side of the fence, but the controversy convinced me, in turn, that it does indeed pay to be deadly accurate, if only to retain the confidence of the editors.
Asked how he went about writing his stories, Mr. Bedford-Jones replied smilingly:
"Just put a sheet of paper in the machine and write. An interesting situation or a good bit of dialogue serves for an introduction. After a few pages I stop and study the characters. Then, when they are clearly in mind -- or perhaps they will develop later on, if intricate -- I write on, page after page, letting the plot form itself."
He did not by any means advocate such a formula for the beginning writer, save as an experiment. I suggested that he had written so many stories that their construction was now second nature to him. He refused to commit himself, and I had to be content with a smile and "Probably."
I asked him if he had any other remarks to make. "Yes, I have," he answered. "Let the young writer depend more on hard work than on the fine inspiration he is hopefully waiting for. Inspiration, we might say, is just another name for experience or, as someone has termed it, perspiration.
"William Wallace Cook has more plots mapped out than he will ever write. And, unlike most writers, he can turn out any type of story desired; be it an historical tale, a Western action story, a wild, Jules Verne novel, or a humorously sentimental yarn that will make you cry and laugh at once. How does he do it? By inspiration, of course -- about thirty years of it!"
I glanced at my watch and rose to go. As the genial author helped me into my overcoat he averred:
"That old admonition to write and keep on writing still holds true. Write at every opportunity. And don't mind the taunts against 'commercialism.' Remember, we may be too proud to fight -- but we can't be too proud to write!"
Posted by ds at December 12, 2002 04:19 PM
Duane -
Really enjoyed this reprinted interview with H. Bedford-Jones. This is the kind of had to find material I appreciate you posting.
- A.B.L.
Posted by: Aaron B. Larson at January 14, 2003 09:44 AM
HI Aaron! Glad to be of service!
Posted by: Duane at July 6, 2004 12:06 PM
