that you have pictured it, and until the editor has learned that you have the true newspaper instinct. This will not take long. Here is one of the joys of newspaper work. You are not kept in suspense.
Remember the newspaper world wants facts, not phrases, and plan your interview accordingly. Do not take the editor an essay on "Architects of Fate." Tell him rather that Mrs. Brown had a tea-party the other night and his paper ought to publish the news about it; that the Smithson domicile is harboring brandnew twins, and that Jennie Piper is entertaining two pretty girls from St. Joe. He will ask you the girls' names, and if you do not know, he will say then and there that you are not so much of a newspaper woman as he thought you were. Tell him you know everybody and go everywhere and hear many, many things that somehow never get into his weekly paper, or, if you are fortunate enough to live in a town which supports a daily, that you think you could run a daily column or half column of society and personal news. That is the opening wedge for you girls with the pen—personalities, gossip, if you will. You cannot start by reporting murders or conducting household departments. You must begin by giving the editor something his older, more blase reporters have failed to give
