MacNichol was impressed by Eytinge because of the quality of the prisoners writing: the seemingly magical power of his words to compel responses from those who received them.  MacNichol maintained throughout his life an interest in writing as art and writing as advertising.  While he was in England, he began to play with a new way to bring these different ideas about writing.

In the meantime, according to his later recollection.  He travelled extensively through Europe and Asia.  I have not found reference to books or articles that he wrote during the second half of the 1920s beyond the Piper of Kerimor, which was a collection of stories, and one other exception, which wil be discussed momentarily.  He did seem to continue to write, though, for he says in Who Was Who among North American Writers that he was a China correspondent for the Athens-Peking News Agency.  He was supposed to have written for American, British, and French magazines, too.   The same year as his divorce, he said, he “practically abandoned fiction writing” for “more serious material”—“economic and sociology.”  In 1930, he married again, Netta Marjorie Wright, the 21-year old daughter of a music composer.  (By that time, MacNichol was 41.  Given the age difference, one hopes that she was not the mistress in 1923.)

He also came to advertise himself.  In 1924 and 1925, he had given a series of lectures on writing, which he then turned into a book, Twelve Lectures on the Technique of Fiction Writing, which he published in 1929.  In the book, MacNichol focused on the craft elements of writing—teaching students to learn how to mass produce stories on a regular basis that fit the rubric of particular magazines.  He gave an example of a method he sometimes used himself: he was in need of funds and so needed a story.  Mexico was in the news, so he thought to write about it.  He invented to men, a hero and foe, and decided to put them in the middle of revolution, since that was occurring in Mexico.  He invented a reason for the two men to fight, and wrote the story from their—which, he said, was enough to get it into Collier’s.  (I have been unable to find the story.)  MacNichol had little sympathy for sincerity—or what we might now call authenticity—in fiction writing.  Certainly, there was artistry—but that came from the genius by which a story if put together, the language used.  For the most part, however, writing was a job.

Twelve Lectures was more than a book, though.   It was an advertisement for Kenneth MacNichol.   At the same time he released the book, he Kenneth MacNichol Limited to advertise his book and run an ancillary industry.  MacNichol advertised to read and criticize stories of hopeful authors.  Those who bought his book would find at the back coupons for discounted rates.

Records held by the National Archives of the United Kingdom indicate the company was profitable.  It was capitalized at 154 pounds to begin with and its last report showed it worth almost 31,000 pounds.   It didn’t stay in around for long, however.  It stopped conducting business in 1931 and was shut down in 1932 by the government for failure to pay fees and file necessary documents.

By that time, MacNichol and Netta had returned to America, reaching New York from Plymouth on 3 April 1931.  It’s unknown what MacNichol was doing through most of the 1930s and early 1940s.  He did publish at least two works he felt worthy of inclusion in Who Was Who: An Idiot Looks at It and Femina Flamma, both of which were likely essays or short stories.  In addition, he claimed to be executive director of the National Writer’s Club and running a school of literature in New York.  (Further research is necessary, but it seems that the National Writer’s Club was the school he was running.)

MacNichol also left Netta.  She applied for naturalization in September 1936 and noted that she had been living apart from Kenneth since July 1935 and had no idea where he was.

He also seems to have given up on serious matters, returning to the pulp fold,  publishing in Argosy, Popular Detective, Thrilling Detective (under his pseudonym O. M. Cabral), Thrilling Mystery, Weird Tales—thus another connection between him and other Bay Area Forteans—and a slew of works for Doc Savage.

MacNichol’s World War II registration card gives some indication of where he was in 1945: still in New York, but now working for the Newspaper Institute of America.   This seems to have been something much like Kenneth MacNichol Limited in London, with prospective writers sending in samples of their writing for evaluation.  It was further extension of the interest he had maintained since at least the mid-1910s with the connection between writing and advertising.