Editors wrote to him telling him to name his own terms, which he did, but it was always for work performed.  He refused resolutely to pledge himself to any new thing.  The thought of again setting pen to paper maddened him.  He had seen Brissenden torn to pieces by the crowd, and despite the fact that him the crowd acclaimed, he could not get over the shock nor gather any respect for the crowd.  His very popularity seemed a disgrace and a treason to Brissenden.  It made him wince, but he made up his mind to go on and fill the money-bag.

He received letters from editors like the following:  “About a year ago we were unfortunate enough to refuse your collection of love-poems.  We were greatly impressed by them at the time, but certain arrangements already entered into prevented our taking them.  If you still have them, and if you will be kind enough to forward them, we shall be glad to publish the entire collection on your own terms.  We are also prepared to make a most advantageous offer for bringing them out in book-form.”

Martin recollected his blank-verse tragedy, and sent it instead.  He read it over before mailing, and was particularly impressed by its sophomoric amateurishness and general worthlessness.  But he sent it; and it was published, to the everlasting regret of the editor.  The public was indignant and incredulous.  It was too far a cry from Martin Eden’s high standard to that serious bosh.  It was asserted that he had never written it, that the magazine had faked it very clumsily, or that Martin Eden was emulating the elder Dumas and at the height of success was hiring his writing done for him.  But when he explained that the tragedy was an early effort of his literary childhood, and that the magazine had refused to be happy unless it got it, a great laugh went up at the magazine’s expense and a change in the editorship followed.  The tragedy was never brought out in book-form, though Martin pocketed the advance royalties that had been paid.

Coleman’s Weekly sent Martin a lengthy telegram, costing nearly three hundred dollars, offering him a thousand dollars an article for twenty articles.  He was to travel over the United States, with all expenses paid, and select whatever topics interested him.  The body of the telegram was devoted to hypothetical topics in order to show him the freedom of range that was to be his.  The only restriction placed upon him was that he must confine himself to the United States.  Martin sent his inability to accept and his regrets by wire “collect.”

“Wiki-Wiki,” published in Warren’s Monthly, was an instantaneous success.  It was brought out forward in a wide-margined, beautifully decorated volume that struck the holiday trade and sold like wildfire.  The critics were unanimous in the belief that it would take its place with those two classics by two great writers, “The Bottle Imp” and “The Magic Skin.”