I have decided very seriously to take up fiction for a livelihood. A certain chronic poverty had forced upon me the fact that I was giving no attention to money making, beyond my editorship, and so the resolution came about. Till the end of 1899 I propose to give myself absolutely to writing the sort of fiction that sells itself. My serious novel "Anna Tellwright" with which I have made some progress is put aside indefinitely - or rather until I have seen what I can do. To write popular fiction is offensive to me, but it is far more agreeable to being tied daily to an office and editing a lady's paper; and perhaps it is less ignoble, and less of a a strain on the conscience. To edit a lady's paper, even a relatively advanced one, is to foster conventionality and hinder progress regularly once a week. Moreover I think that fiction will pay better, and in order to be happy I must have a fair supply of money.
Also I have decided very seriously to aim at living in the country, to the entire abandonment of London. A year ago I could not have contemplated the idea of leaving London, but I have developed since then.
Out and about in London yesterday. British Library to view their current exhibition "Writing Britain". Very good. Lots of original manuscripts (including first page of The Card!) which make a personal connection to the writer: some very neat; some all over the place; all interesting. Bit too much poetry for my taste and, perhaps inevitably, a lot of London.
Walked back to and over Tower Bridge. Very atmospheric in the area between Jamaica Road and the river.