many days, there is hardly room to dispute the claim.  That, however, is not quite “learning the business.”  No previous “literary training” is necessary, if by that is meant the mastery of English prose writing, or the actual technique of short-story construction or novel writing.  We shall see, however, that the photoplaywright who wishes to succeed in more than one, two, or three flash-in-the-pan instances must really submit to a course of training, whether self-conducted or under competent instruction, and the more he knows of fictional and dramatic art the easier is his new work likely to be.

Nevertheless, there is a real sense in which the statement that no literary training is required by the student of photoplay writing is true.  Provided he is gifted with an imaginative mind and the native ability to see how an idea or a plot-germ would evolve itself into a climacteric and coherent story, and provided he has the dramatic sense, he can actually learn the rules of construction and produce salable photoplays even if he has by no means the literary ability to write a salable short-story.  But he must be a person of ideas—­no book and no instruction can supply that lack.

We have gone so far as deliberately to try to discourage anyone who is so foolish and so undeserving as to enter the field of photoplay writing without the fullest intention of doing his best to win for himself the very highest position in that field to which his talent and ability to work can advance him; and we have no apologies to offer.  Few who have not followed the progress of the moving-picture industry realize the enormous changes that have taken place in the last four or five years.  This is especially true of the branch of the business having to do with the preparation of the script.  To those who have been in constant touch with the work, it seems only yesterday that the professional photoplay writer, outside of the producing plants, was an unknown factor.  At last came the time when the manufacturers started to advertise for ideas on which to build their plays.  “Ten to one-hundred dollars paid for motion picture plays,” these advertisements read.  They were alluring enough even to the man who already had a steady position in another line of work.  They told him how he could add from “ten to one-hundred dollars” a month to his regular income.  At least, they seemed to promise that, especially when coupled with the assurance that “no previous literary training” was required.  These advertisements looked attractive, also, to the man whose income was not regular.  Small wonder that within a few months’ time scores, hundreds, rushed blindly into a field where even writers of established reputation would have failed—­and did fail—­without preliminary technical training.  Even those who succeeded in getting their efforts accepted by the producers found that the check was more likely to be for ten dollars than for any amount in excess of that.