This Fair But Pitiless City Of Manhattan

I'll Give You The Whole Secret To Short Story Writing. Here It Is. Rule 1: Write Stories That Please Yourself. There Is No Rule 2.

It Gives Men Courage And Ambition And The Nerve For Anything. It Has The Colour Of Gold, Is Clear As A Glass And Shines After Dark As If The Sunshine Were Still In It.

Yes, I Get Dry Spells. Sometimes I Can't Turn Out A Thing For Three Months. When One Of Those Spells Comes On I Quit Trying To Work And Go Out And See Something Of Life. You Can't Write A Story That's Got Any Life In It By Sitting At A Writing Table And Thinking. You've Got To Get Out Into The Streets, Into The Crowds, Talk With People, And Feel The Rush And Throb Of Real Life-that's The Stimulant For A Story Writer.

Be Always Decent And Right In Your Home Town; And When You're On The Road, Never Take More Than Four Glasses Of Beer A Day Or Play Higher Than A Twenty-five-cent Limit.

In Dress, Habits, Manners, Provincialism, Routine And Narrowness, He Acquired That Charming Insolence, That Irritating Completeness, That Sophisticated Crassness, That Overbalanced Poise That Makes The Manhattan Gentleman So Delightfully Small In Its Greatness.