A test then:

1. Does E H Metcalfe know what the word "Literally" means?
2. Does E H Metcalfe know what an oyster looks like?
3. What do you think are the chances of my becoming a well-paid and successful writer under Mr Metcalfe's tutelage?

Mr Metcalfe is principal of The Writers Bureau (no, I don't what's happened to the possessive apostrophe either) of Dale Street, Manchester.  You will have seen his ads in the quality press or, if not his, then those of The London School of Journalism, The Writing School or the David and Charles Writing College.

All offer to get you into print as a journalist, novelist, playwright or poet. Or, as one of the postal academies - Wallace Arnold's alma mater I would vouchsafe - has it, a Wordsmith.

The thing is, you see, that anyone can be a writer. You thought Bernard Levin  or John Pilger got where they are today by habitually choosing the right word and then slotting it in there in the right place? But that's what the writers' mafia would have you believe. 

What these initiates will never tell you, and what only plucky Judy Chard, Director of Studies of David and Charles Writers College is willing to come right out and say is that "You already know several thousand words and you are able to put them together every time you talk." Well, perhaps not every  time Ms Chard, but I take your point.

For it's those several thousand words which are the secret, you see. Pick a few of the right ones and you're halfway there. To get all the way there simply commit to memory a number of dodges which would ensure those million monkeys with their million typewriters would all write Hamlet. There are, for instance, the Writing School's Six Rules for Evolving Plots and the Four Rules for Strengthening Plots.  The Writer's Bureau offers its failsafe Plot Planner and Subject Analyser, and the David and Charles Writers College has its Television Action Digest.

No part of the writing process cannot be subjected to this scientific analysis. The London School of Journalism (Patron Viscount Rothermere) has whittled the art of Titling Stories and Naming Characters down to just Twelve Principles for each  although, in honesty, I would guess that the names Cyril Bracegirdle and Stanley Blenkinsop - two of the writing school tutors - would violate at least three of those Principles.  The school goes on to report that "The creation of laughter can be scientifically studied" but without mentioning that once it is it stops being funny.

I'll admit, I was tempted.  Which writer, deadline long gone and whiskey bottle down to the dregs, hasn't wanted some sort of ready reckoner that will turn a plotless ramble into vintage Maugham? But ask yourself: would you buy a used novel from whoever wrote this synopsis of the More About Characterisation lesson of The Writing School's course?  I give it to you precisely as it was given to me:

"Your study moves on to the techniques of presenting emotion through your Characters ... how your characters can show fear, anxiety, anger, jealousy, shyness, happiness - and of course Love.  Writing the Love Scene is an important skill to develop because of the scope for inter-reaction between your Characters.  You learn how to characterise the Heroine, the Hero, the Villain - by writing-in their major and minor emotional traits.  You see how to express Character in Dialogue, discover how Characterization harnesses Human Behaviour Patterns and Motivation.  Perhaps most fascinating of all you learn how to observe character traits in the people you meet every day, and how to create characters from experience." Heavy on the shift key, or what? But then perhaps the rules of capitalisation come after The Love Scene in the syllabus.

The Writing School prospectus for its course  - "most attractively presented in a library sleeve which will grace any bookshelf" - reads like a series of Dickens chapter headings:  "An important truth for all writers - deciding where and when to write - a danger to avoid - advice from Arnold Bennett"   through to "... H G Wells' method for success - how to use rejections to improve your writing - how to keep yourself at your mental peak - essential advice from Lord Northcliffe ... how to avoid sounding arrogant, the dangers of sentimentality" and on and on.

But persevere ("The most important quality you require is not
brilliance, but perseverence" (sic) confides Mr Metcalfe) and eventually the literal thing with the oysters will start to happen.

"I have sold another short story bringing my earnings to £291. I shall always be grateful to the Writing School for making my small dream come true" enthuses Mrs M E from Essex in that school's come-on pack.  A small dream indeed. M H of Manchester adds "I have managed to sell three articles and a short story totaling £91 in payment". I only hope MH is working hard at his day job.

£23 for even the shortest story is not a  fortune, not even a small one.  A thousand words sold to any national newspaper would have doubled M H's earnings for four pieces, a single short piece in any good colour supplement trebled them. But then the Writer's Bureau's list of past successes suggests that M H would never have aimed quite that high:  "'Conker Time' has been accepted for publication by The Lady" says a grateful Sylvia Wade, and "The satirical article that I wrote for assignment 2 was accepted by 'The Truth' magazine"  boasts Michael Hopkins. Alan Johnson managed to get 'A Spade is a Spade' into Amateur Gardening and Writing School graduate D G of Penrith, has " ... won £117 worth of camping equipment by writing a slogan  following the example of one of the School books sent with the Writing School course."  Yes, I know Hemingway started somewhere too, but it wasn't by writing tie-breakers for camping competitions.

But then, in a down-page burst of candour, Judy Chard doubts "if you will become a household name - only a few writers in every generation have that much talent - nor will you become rich and famous.   But money isn't the only spur: "Achieve instant success! See your name in print like Mr Priest of Barmouth" shrieks David and Charles Writer's College and, more modestly "It was quite exciting to see something I had written in print" says Writers' Bureau graduate John Lockley. The general consensus is no true artist minds starving when he can send a copy of Twinkle with his by-line in it to his mum.

There is, of course, nothing wrong with writing for Prediction or Loving or Mother or any of the other waiting-room magazines, and if they pay pin-money, then, the NUJ not withstanding, that's what they pay.  But a 1500 word article, 'Foxes Farms and Fossils', as sold to Dorset Life by G W of Dorset doth not an income make.  And given that Saturday and Sunday papers are screaming for copy to fill their gaping, multi-supplemental maws, and will pay the fillers top rate for helping out with the rush, why should a budding writer not look further than ' ... a letter to Titbits for which I received £20 (G L Scotland)'?