In
1908, one of the world’s great writers hit a creative dead end. Willa Cather, a
fledgling short story writer, helmed one of the largest literary magazines in New York , McClure’s, yet she couldn’t write
a novel. Even her stories tended to be accomplished, yet derivative imitations
of the bestselling novels of the day—tales of high society romances and artists
suffering for art. As an editor she knew what sold, and knew—apparently—what
people wanted to read. However, when she wrote those very things, tailored to
audience expectations and critical approval, the result never caught fire. She
had written some excellent short stories (“A Wagner Matinee” being one of the
best), but she couldn’t extend the material; the situations and characters were
often second-hand, cribbed from Edith Wharton and Henry James, among others. It
bored her to even think of it!