It was re-written with what
infinite pains and toil few can understand. It was then six times
tied up and carried with anxiety and hope to a publisher's office,
only to re-appear six times in Montague Street, an unwelcome
visitor, bringing with it depression and disappointment.
Derrick said little, but suffered much. However, nothing daunted
him. When it came back from the sixth publisher he took it to a
seventh, then returned and wrote away like a Trojan at his third
book. The one thing that never failed him was that curious
consciousness that he HAD to write; like the prophets of old, the
'burden' came to him, and speak it he must.
The seventh publisher wrote a somewhat dubious letter: the book, he
thought, had great merit, but unluckily people were prejudiced, and
historical novels rarely met with success. However, he was willing
to take the story, and offered half profits, candidly admitting that
he had no great hopes of a large sale. Derrick instantly closed
with this offer, proofs came in, the book appeared, was well
received like its predecessor, fell into the hands of one of the
leaders of Society, and, to the intense surprise of the publisher,
proved to be the novel of the year.
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