Reading these old New Yorker stories highlights how many people wrote short fiction primarily for the money.

With a lot of these writers, they eventually stopped appearing in the New Yorker, and when I investigate, the answer is (quite frequently) that they just didn’t need the money anymore, so they stopped writing stories.

Am thinking now of Sally Benson and Thyra Samter Winslow, who became screenwriters, and Edward Newhouse, who made money in the stock market and stopped writing altogether for the last forty years of his life.