Yesterday, I shared some of Dr. J. Berg Esenwein’s advice for writers from his 1916 book, Writing for the Magazines. But what about those of you who hope to someday use a time machine to head back 92 years and work the other side of the editorial desk?

Esenwein has some words of wisdom for you as well. And he should know, because when he wrote his book, he was not only the editor of The Writer’s Monthly and sometime editor of Lippincott’s magazine, but he was also the former director of the Periodical Publishers’ Association of America.

Here are his thoughts on becoming tomorrow’s—make that yesterday’s—editorial star:

Every year are graduated from the colleges a thousand and one young men and women who, because the professor of rhetoric has praised their work, would consent, if properly urged, to edit some great magazine. These form the first line of “availables.” Most of them “would be willing to accept a position”—that is the formula—as assistant editor. Two or three would be glad to get a job as copy holder—and these are more promising subjects for future McClures, Hapgoods and Lorimers than the rest of the thousand. This is sober truth.

Then comes the main army, chiefly spinsters, who want an editorial position because they have always been fond of reading. These are supported by a huge reserve of wrist-watch boys who would like “a nice clean profession”—without being willing to train to fill the post. Finally we have the camp followers—failures in other work who know it is easy to pick out stories because their friends have always praised their literary judgment.

As a matter of fact, editors are rarely chosen from applicants who come fresh from college or private life. To begin with, there are not nearly enough staff editorial positions to go around—perhaps three thousand in America, not including the newspapers. Here are some of the ways in which these positions have actually been reached:

The editor has filled a staff vacancy by appointing the non-resident editor of a department.

The editor’s secretary has shown such good judgment, and so worked to master the editorial duties, that she or he has won a staff appointment.

A keep proof reader in the printing department has been brought over into the editorial rooms to edit copy, and climbs on up.

A college journalist who has “made good” on his magazine or paper is chosen.

A stenographer or clerk has shown ability to do better editorial work than a member of the staff. Such chances are occurring constantly.

A successful contributor to the magazine is taken on the staff temporarily and makes a place for himself.

The proprietor’s son or niece is given a chance—and sometimes succeeds.

An editor gets a higher position on a rival magazine so that the publisher may get inside information of the rival’s methods.

A graduate of a school of journalism is offered a small opening.

A circulation man who is well educated and observant shows that he knows what the people want and is given an editorial position.

An advertising man gets the same chance.

A college professor, a clergyman or a lawyer who has long been doing odd bits of journalistic work wins a post.

An investor buys an interest in a magazine, and with it an editor’s desk.

A newspaper man comes from that field.

The editor of an obscure little magazine—perhaps an amateur journalist—shows striking ability and is chosen.

A personal application may be made just at the time when an embarrassing vacancy occurs and the applicant be given a chance.

This list of openings could be expanded indefinitely, only to show that it is just about hopeless to look for an editorial position unless you are willing to learn before you apply for the place. Millions are willing to learn—but at the publisher’s expense. You must—either while serving in a clerical position or in some work that brings you into close touch with editorial duties—master the details of commercial literary criticism, editorial conduct, and manuscript preparation, all the while that you are building up your mental grasp. Then you will be justified in asking for a chance.

The rewards of editorial work, sad to say, are not large. A few great editors receive relatively large salaries; perhaps fifty others are paid from four to five thousand dollars a year, and this includes the editors of technical journals; a much larger group draw fifty dollars a week; while the rest trail down to unmentionable sums.

However, the editor’s life in the main is one of intellectual expansion, brings association with interesting people, and ranks him among professional folk. Certainly it is worth while fitting oneself thoroughly for this work, for the knowledge and skill gained will always be of practical value in the work of authorship, even if a suitable editorial opening does not occur. It must be remembered, however, that it is not possible to prepare for an editorial career in anything like the direct way in which one gets ready for medicine or the law. One may indeed get into line for the work by such preparation as I have already outlined, and then look out for an opening, but there can be no certainty that the door will open—or even that you can wisely push it open. Magazine editorial work is a sort of post-graduate career following upon any one of a dozen or more allied callings. Success in one of these, and special preparation for the editor’s tasks, may some day swing a vacant swivel chair toward you.

So—got those time machines ready?

And—what the heck are wrist-watch boys?