Sleep Story: Little Women Ch 27

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott Chapter 27 Literary Lessons Fortune suddenly smiled upon Jo and Dropped a good luck penny in her path Not a golden penny exactly But I doubt it half a million would have given more real happiness Than did the little sum that came to her in this wise Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room put on her scribbling suit and Fall into a vortex as she expressed it Writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul For till that was finished she could find no peace her scribbling suit consisted of a black woolen pinafore on Which she could wipe her pen at will and a cap of the same material Adorned with a cheerful red bow Into which she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action This cap was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family Who during these periods kept their distance?

Merely popping in their heads semi occasionally to ask with interest Does genius burn Joe?

They did not always venture even to ask this question but took an observation of the cap and Judged accordingly if this expressive article of dress was drawn low upon the forehead It was a sign that hard work was going on in Exciting moments.

It was pushed rakishly askew and when despair sees the author it was plucked wholly off and Cast upon the floor at such times the intruders silently withdrew And not until the red bow was seen gaily erect upon the gifted brow Did anyone dare address Joe?

She did not think herself a genius by any means But when the writing fit came on she gave herself up to it with entire abandon and led a blissful life Unconscious of want care or bad weather While she sat safe and happy in an imaginary world Full of friends almost as real and dear to her as any in the flesh Sleep forsook her eyes Meals stood untasted Day and night were all too short to enjoy the happiness Which blessed her only at such times and Made these hours worth living Even if they bore no fruit This divine event usually lasted a week or two and then she emerged from her vortex hungry sleepy cross or despondent She was just recovering from one of these attacks when she was prevailed upon to escort miss Crocker to a lecture And then returned for her virtue was rewarded with a new idea.

It was a people's course the lecture on the pyramids and Joe rather wondered at the choice of such a subject for such an audience But took it for granted that some great social evil would be remedied or some great want supplied By unfolding the glories of the Pharaohs to an audience whose thoughts were busy with the price of coal and flour And whose lives were spent in trying to solve harder riddles than that of the Sphinx They were early and while miss Crocker set the heel of her stocking Joe amused herself by examining the faces of the people who occupied the seat with them on Her left were two matrons with massive foreheads and bonnets to match discussing women's rights and making tatting Beyond sat a pair of humble lovers artlessly holding each other by the hand a somber spinster eating peppermints out of a paper bag and An old gentleman taking his preparatory nap behind a yellow bandana on Her right her only neighbor Was a studious looking lad absorbed in the conversation absorbed in a newspaper it was a pictorial sheet and Joe examined the work of art nearest her idly wondering what fortuitous event of circumstances Needed the melodramatic illustration of an Indian in full war costume Tumbling over the precipice with the wolf at his throat while two infuriated young gentlemen with a naturally small feet and big eyes Were stabbing each other close by and a disheveled female was flying away in the background with her mouth wide open Pausing to turn a page the lad saw her looking and With boyish good nature offered half his paper saying bluntly Want to read it?

That's a first-rate story Joe accepted it with a smile For she had never outgrown her liking for lads and soon found herself involved in the usual labyrinth of love mystery and murder for the story belonged to that class of light literature in which the passions have a holiday and when the author's invention fails a Grand catastrophe clears the stage of one half the persona Leaving the other half to exult over their downfall Prime isn't it asked the boy as her eye went down the last paragraph of her portion.

I Think you and I could do as well as that if we tried Returned Joe Amused at his admiration of the trash.

I should think I was a pretty lucky chap if I could she makes a good living out of such stories they say and He pointed to the name of miss s l a n g Northbury under the title of the tale Do you know her as Joe was sudden interest?

No,

But I read all her pieces and I know a fellow who works in the office where the paper is printed do you say she makes a good living out of stories like this and Joe looked more respectfully at the agitated group and thickly sprinkled exclamation points that adored the page Guess she does She knows just what folks like and gets paid well for writing it Here the lecture began But Joe heard very little of it for while professor sands was prosing away about Belzoni chiops Scarab a and the hieroglyphics she was covertly taking down the address of the paper And boldly resolved to try for the hundred dollar prize Offered in its columns for a sensational story By the time the lecture ended in the audience awoke.

She had built up a splendid fortune for herself not the first founded on paper and and was already deep in the concoction of her story Being unable to decide whether the duel should come before the elopement or after the murder She said nothing of her plan at home But fell to work next day Much to the disquiet of her mother who always looked a little anxious when genius took to burning Joe had never tried this style before Contenting herself with very mild romances for the spread-eagle Her experience and miscellaneous reading were of service now For they gave her some idea of dramatic effect and supplied plot language and costumes Her story was as full of desperation and despair as her limited acquaintance with those uncomfortable emotions enabled her to make it and Having located it in Lisbon She wound up with an earthquake as a striking and appropriate event The manuscript was privately dispatched accompanied by a note Modestly saying that if the tale didn't get the prize Which the writer hardly dared expect She would be very glad to receive any sum it might be considered worth Six weeks is a long time to wait and Is still longer time for a girl to keep a secret?

But Joe did both and Was just beginning to give up all hope of ever seeing her manuscript again When a letter arrived which almost took her breath away For an opening it a check for a hundred dollars fell into her lap For a minute.

She stared at it as if it had been a snake Then she read her letter and began to cry If the amiable gentleman who wrote that kindly note could have known what intense happiness He was giving a fellow creature.

I Think he would devote his leisure hours if he has any to that amusement For Joe valued the letter more than the money Because it was encouraging And after years of effort,

It was so pleasant to find that she had learned to do something Though it was only to write a sensation story A prouder young woman was seldom seen than she When having composed herself She electrified the family by appearing before them with the letter in one hand the check in the other Announcing that she had won the prize Of course,

There was a great jubilee And when the story came everyone read and praised it Though after her father had told her that the language was good The romance fresh and hearty and the tragedy quite thrilling He shook his head and said in his unworldly way.

You can do better than this Joe Aim at the highest and never mind the money Aim at the highest and never mind the money.

I think the money is the best part of it What will you do with such a fortune?

Asked amy regarding the magic slip of paper with a jealous eye Send beth and mother to the seaside for a month or two answered joe promptly To the seaside they went after much discussion And though beth didn't come home as plump and rosy as could be desired She was much better While miss march declared she felt 10 years younger So joe was satisfied with the investment of her prize money And fell to work with a cheery spirit Bent on earning more of those delightful checks She did earn several that year And began to feel herself a power in the house For by the magic of a pen her rubbish turned into comforts for them all The duke's daughter paid the butcher's bill A phantom hand put down a carpet And the curse of the coventry's proved the blessing of the marches in the way of groceries and gowns Wealth is certainly a most desirable thing But poverty has its sunny side And one of the sweet uses of the money is to And one of the sweet uses of adversity is the genuine satisfaction which comes from hardy work of head or hand And to the inspiration of necessity We owe half the wise Beautiful and useful blessings of the world Joe enjoyed a taste of this satisfaction And ceased to envy richer girls Taking great comfort in the knowledge that she could supply her own wants And need ask no one for a penny Little notice was taken of her stories But they found a market And encouraged by this fact She resolved to make a bold stroke for fame and fortune Having copied her novel for the fourth time Read it to all her confidential friends And submitted it with fear and trembling to three publishers She at last disposed of it On condition that she would cut it down one third And omit all the parts which she particularly admired Now I must either bundle it back in my tin kitchen to mold Pay for printing it myself Or chop it up to suit purchases and get what I can for it Fame is a very good thing to have in the house But cash is more convenient So I wish to take the sense of the meeting on this important subject Said Joe,

Calling of family counsel Don't spoil your book,

My girl For there is more in it than you know And the idea is well worked out Let it wait and ripen Was her father's advice And he practiced it Having waited patiently thirty years For fruit of his own to ripen And being in no haste to gather it even now When it was sweet and mellow It seems to me that Joe will profit more by taking the trial Than by waiting,

Said Miss March Criticism is the best test of such work For it will show her both unsuspected merits and faults And help her to do better next time We are too partial,

But the praise and blame of outsiders Will prove useful,

Even if she gets but little money Yes,

Said Joe,

Knitting her brows That's just it I've been fussing over this thing so long I really don't know whether it's good,

Bad,

Or indifferent It will be a great help to have a cool,

Impartial person Take a look at it And see if it's worth the effort And if it's not,

Then it's not I'd like to have a cool,

Impartial person take a look at it And tell me what they think of it I wouldn't leave a word out of it You'll spoil it if you do For the interest of the story is more in the minds Than in the actions of the people And it will be all a muddle if you don't explain it as you go on Said Meg,

Who firmly believed that this book Was the most remarkable novel ever written But Mr.

Allen says leave out the explanations And the dramatic And let the characters tell the story Interrupted Joe,

Turning to the publisher's note Do as he tells you He knows what will sell and we don't Make a good,

Popular book And get as much money as you can Buy and buy When you've got a name,

You can afford to digress And have philosophical and metaphysical people in your novels Said Amy,

Who took a strictly practical view of the subject Well,

Said Joe,

Laughing If my people are philosophical and metaphysical,

It isn't my fault For I know nothing about such things Except what I hear Father say sometimes If I've got some of his wise ideas jumbled up with my romance So much the better for me Now Beth,

What do you say?

I should so like to see it printed soon Was all Beth said And smiled in saying it But there was an unconscious emphasis on the last word And a wistful look in the eye That never lost their childlike candor Which chilled Joe's heart for a minute With a foreboding fear And decided her to make her little venture soon So,

With spartan firmness The young authoress laid her firstborn on the table And chopped it up as ruthlessly as any ogre In the hope of pleasing everyone She took everybody's advice And liked the old man and his donkey And the fabled suited nobody Her father liked the metaphysical streak Which had unconsciously got into that So that was allowed to remain Though she had her doubts about it Her mother thought that there was a trifle too much description Out,

Therefore,

It came And with it many a doubt So it came and with it many necessary links to the story Meg admired the tragedy So Joe piled up the agony to suit her While Amy objected to the fun And with the best intentions in life Joe quenched the sprightly scenes Which relieved the somber character of the story Then to complicate the ruin She cut it down one third And confidingly sent the poor little romance Like a picked robin Out into the big,

Busy world To try its fate Well,

It was printed And she got three hundred dollars for it Likewise,

Plenty of praise and blame Both so much greater than she expected That she was thrown into a state of bewilderment From which it took her some time to recover You said,

Mother,

That criticism would help Me,

But how can it when it's so contradictory That I don't know whether I've written a promising book Or broken all ten commandments Cried poor Joe,

Turning over a heap of notices The perusal of which filled her with pride and joy one minute Wrath and dismay the next This man says,

An exquisite book full of truth,

Beauty,

And earnestness All is sweet,

Pure,

And healthy Continued the perplexed authoress The next,

The theory of the book is bad Full of morbid fancies,

Spiritualistic ideas,

And unnatural characters Now,

As I had no theory of any kind Don't believe in spiritualism And copied my characters from life I don't see how this critic can be right Another says,

It's one of the best American novels Which has appeared for years I know better than that And the next asserts that,

Though it's original And written with great force and feeling It is a dangerous book It isn't Some make fun of it,

Some overpraise And nearly all insist that I had a deep theory to expound When I only wrote it for the pleasure and the money I wish I'd printed the whole,

Or not at all For I do hate to be so misjudged Her family and friends administered comfort and commendation liberally Yet it was a hard time for sensitive,

High-spirited Joe Who meant so well,

And had apparently done so ill But it did her good For those whose opinion had real value Gave her the criticism which is an author's best education And when the first soreness was over She could laugh at her poor little book Yet believe in it still And feel herself the wiser and stronger For the buffeting she had received Not being a genius like Keats It won't kill me,

She said stoutly And I've got the joke on my side,

After all For the parts that were taken straight out of real life Are denounced as impossible and absurd And the scenes that I made up out of my own silly head Are pronounced charmingly natural,

Tender and true So I'll comfort myself with that And when I'm ready I'll up again and take another And that is the end of our story this evening Until next time Sweet dreams