pf plots clamoringbto be Written. I wanted to write a score of stories at once. ijzxxaszzasxifxizcharbdrnrmdxeacianstxenxx Q first novel in six years was vvritten. ‘I

I made up my mind that I would not go back to Japanese stories. I would start all over again, with a new pseudonym and a new type of writing. I would write of the great ranching country -——the "last of the big lands" where I la sonourned new for so long. I had a passionate desi send out into the Worl inn; a. living picture of Alberta. My work had been chiefly noted for its delicate and even poetic quality. at all events the critics in revie ing my Japanese stories laid stress upon this. But I Wqs not going to write with a delicate pen now. !m1fibdul oixmum:mtmmmm rmgum

The first publisher to whom I sent my Gamma: Alberta novel

returned it to me with tie statement yhatbit was the most brutal manuscript that had ever come into their office, but that it had. gripped him so that, jaded reader of fiction as he was, he had not put it dovm till he had. read every

word. Strangely enough this uterdict gave me a singulzr pride. I said

to myself: "Now I am writing with a man's pen". I'm _

eastf I'm goinglto "come balms" as a writer, not this“;‘:t‘i;me,’ writer of fairy

like sto;,»i’§s of Japan_;;:zit“‘€" es of things and people 1

_,,/

1 will demand a hea - -.-I wi 1 forceV“_a-vvheairing. K V '.v‘‘'’”

I have [been par 1 cannot be heldklback.

-n...

I lave something to give Q) the world

I'm in New York! eicnmm fimym What reaction havell? I have somewhat the dazed feeling

of a ‘Rip Van ‘J.-'inl~:le. 3% Eight years have mad.e a mighty change in the

city where I lived so long. N ot merely physically, but ina thousand ways.

The faces I see seem all new to me. Many oi‘ my friends are gone -—some never

to return. Theres. a new race of editors, a new race of writers. Emcxmm

spry A. new t ype of writing runs like quicksilver from their pens. ;’.yj.dJ.y.,-gai.11ftI1‘Iy“md’dern:-M«Np

i One might sa t .. » e-.--‘Ehat—i.s,..13he.r6§__._3- Wave Of

-.0,‘