Great Novelist

“I don't know.”

A small sigh came out of the mouth of spring. In the computer room, she had already stopped for an hour. I must have built a plot, and all I had to do was walk along it. Why is it so hard?

Spring saw a screen with her writing floating. It was probably that day that the progress started to slow. Ever since I heard about the exhibition in the library.

She hesitated. It's an exhibition in the library. Not many people will read it. Not many students use the school library.

But I was shaken. It's not a matter of numbers. The reader's presence was heavy. Until now, she, who was a reader, felt that weight on her part for the first time now. Read this article and how people will rate it. What to think and what to chew. I was hoping you could give me a compliment.Just a nice one.

I wanted to hear it. I didn't want to expose my shortcomings. But I wasn't confident.

Spring read her writings. I didn't like it. I was desperate to put it in front of others.

I can't. Let's rewrite it.

She cleared the post. The blank screen was blocked. She turns her head to see him, enthusiastic about something. He was the only person to complete the manuscript. That was a long time ago. I don't know how I did that. How can he stay in a place like this and stay out in the open?

I wonder if I could move on.

The bell rings. It's time for a break. The children of the doorman take their hands off the keyboard one by one.

“Oh, my shoulder hurts. ”

Seonhua stretches his arms upward and says as if pitiful. Spring only turned its eyes away from him. And Joo-ho, who was receiving her enthusiastic gaze, also stopped his hand at the voice of the sunflower and lifted his face over the monitor.

“You must have worked hard. ”

“I worked hard. But the writing is in place. ”

“Me, too."

Spring swiftly intervenes in her sighs. She wasn't the only one who was worried about writing.

Looking at the two doormen who were in tears, he asked lightly.

“Is it blocked?”

“Yes. It's blocked, but I don't know what's blocking it. ”

He sighed deeply and said.

“I'm concerned about the exhibition. ”

In the words of spring, Seonhua buried his face on the desk without saying a word. She had the same concerns.

“Are you going to exhibit? ”

Seongwang asks. It's a light tone. He did not worry at all about the exhibition. He looked at that face and said,

“You're not going to do it? ”

“Yes.”

“Why did you decide that? ”

“I'm not greedy. ”

“Greed for what? ”

“Greed to be a writer. ”

It was the same with Sunhwa. She doesn't think she wants to be a person who makes a living by writing. This was a minor activity and it was going to be a memory someday.

“I don't target writers, either. ”

It bothers me. What doesn't fit. Why is it so complicated if the West says so?

“You're already a writer. ”

He said.

“Who?”

“All of us. Aren't you writing something? Write and write. ”

“A real writer would laugh at that. ”

“No matter who's laughing, the writer is a writer. ”

“Why do you keep calling me a writer? ”

“Because you look like a writer? ”

“· · · · · · · Yeah? ”

It's not that I don't want to hear it. He never thought he was a writer. But I heard him say that, too. Writing is writing. According to his logic, she was a writer.

“Then change your words and I'll be my own writer. ”

I was annoyed when I saw Seongwang's medicine rising. The Moon Book activities were fun. But the choice wasn't fun at all. Worrying isn't fun at all. Writing was not just fun.

“So, is it right to exhibit? ”

Then spring asked. It was a worried face. He twisted his chin and said indifferently.

“Why?”

“Huh?"

It was spring when I was embarrassed by the reaction.

“Well, I'm a little greedy, unlike Seogwang. I mean, I wanted to show it anyway, but I was worried, and the writer was writing to show it. ”

Difficult. It was the Lord who cut off the complicated idea of biting the tail.

“Whatever.”

It's light. The stickiness there is a line.

“Wow, you say that like it's someone else's business. ”

“There is no castle. You didn't hear the cheers? ”

“I didn't hear a thing. ”

Spring said with a blurry face.

“From what I hear, I want to, but I'm scared. So I don't write. ”

“· · · · · · · Maybe. ”

He straightens out her insides that she doesn't even know.

“Someone told me not to be afraid. ”

Spring struck the bell as it realized something. The underlings cried and focused on writing again. I put my hands down again and wrote down. Among them was spring.

He looked back at the landscape from the very rear.

I liked this spot. Nothing else would have happened to the other kids. It was a place to quickly respond to others' approaches.

That means that other children do not know even if they write other articles.

He thought in his head, tidying up the overall fabricated background. Now it's his turn to give him a partner.

As opposed to the protagonist of the sand, he has an ally. A group that will go on an adventure together. Fellow. He sticks his head out over the monitor. I see the doormen. My colleagues are writing together. 4 students in first grade, 1 student in second grade and 1 teacher

It was a small minor undertaking.

I think four people traveling will be suitable. I can also choose to be a classmate. They had no interaction in school. Four people who were growing up and walking their own paths, with no origin or personality at all, travel together.

He quickly moved his hands and wrote down the letters.

The character's words are ridiculed because he knows where there is a God. Even professors, coworkers, parents, and neighborhood kids ignore him and stop him. The protagonist became increasingly confused with those around him. They all didn't believe him, and even if they did, they wouldn't go near him.

I warn you, there are only three of us.

Quickly draws a portrait in your head. There are three conditions.

Have some business with God. Be an alumni of the protagonist. Look at the world from a different perspective.

As long as I kept it, it was okay for any person to emerge. Idealists or realists. Cold and enthusiastic. If there is a relationship between the two, there is also an opponent who can communicate well. Each of you who has lived each other's lives has helped and hurt each other and is unclean and positive.

Repeats. He refines them. The question is, how do you make your living?

I recalled the language I created Lots of grass with lots of mountains. With farming, the vocabulary for the climate developed. Grass, agriculture, crops, climate. I wish I had a chef. We will be able to show the world its own food culture.

What kind of personality do we give them? At that moment, I remembered this data in my studio. Cannibal. I was nauseous. He thought he might be a vegetarian.

What else could there be? Someone close to their life, who needs it in that world. What about art? What kind of art is there?

A pottery. He once mentioned a pottery while talking to the West. A potter. A potter. Wouldn't it be fun to have someone to show off their work to God?

I also needed someone with high medical knowledge there. It's okay to be sensitive to the politics and politics of the country. A doctor or a soldier. Could be as good a position as a medic. I remembered the figure who punched first before the horse.

Human-hating translators and vegan chefs, narcissistic ceramics and violent veterans. Roughly this much. Since I'm going on a trip, everyone should put the word "former job" in front of me. Each one of them is a problem. When they quit their jobs and left their hometown, they were happy.

It looks faint.

“Hello."

He answered the phone. I was working on it, so my voice was a little locked.

“What, are you awake now? ”

“No way. It's the middle of the year. I was working.”

“Aha, are you writing something else? What a coincidence.”

You hear a faint voice from the west over the phone.

“Am I interrupting something? ”

“No, I was just about to take a break. Is something wrong? ”

There's no work to be done, and he gives you a long speech. He waited quietly for the rear horse.

“Come with me to Lady Song's. You said you were working, so it's probably not lunch yet, right? ”

Yes, it was. He remembered the greeting he had spoken with Lady Song. The next time he came, he asked me to pick a dish that suits my taste.

“Great. Where do you want to go? ”

The bell rings when you open the door. I diligently play an important role in informing guests of their existence. The landscape was still here.

“I'll give you a seat. ”

She looks familiar and guides both of them. He confidently entered the restaurant dressed in black reasoning. He also followed behind. You hear someone calling you as you enter the room inside.

“Oh, isn't that Mr. Anse? ”

“Huh?"

Even though it was a strange name called An Si, while standing on someone's call, he turned his head. He also followed him to find the owner of the voice. Two people occupied a table in the room.

“It's been a long time, sister. ”

“You're still missing the point of consciousness. ”

“I'm dressed. ”

“Yes, yes. ”

She was dressed in a light suit. The foam of laying down on the chair was also a little threatening.

“I've never seen you before in my life. Where did you put her? ”

“I don't know. Probably sitting somewhere reading Hemingway. ”

In her remarks, Zhou Zhou greeted.

“Hello."

“Yes, is that your brother? ”

Suddenly, my tone became sweeter. He glanced at you and replied.

“He's not my brother. ”

“Really? She's a writer. He's not your brother, he's your brother. ”

A writer. He looked at her face quietly. I thought I was familiar with it, but I guess I'm just a writer. Which book was the face I saw? The profile photos I saw in the author's introduction floated over my head.

Standing next to me, he warned me.

“He's a great writer. ”

“Ah.”

The sound of enlightenment came from his mouth. Her novels are violent and violent. However, there were many readers who liked the writings she wrote because of her cinematic appearances. Indeed.

“You cut your hair? ”

He said, looking at the short haircut below his ears. He was thinking the same thing. It didn't look like a photo. That is why they did not recognize it immediately.

“It was hot, so I hit it. ”

“Get along well. ”

“I think so, too. Would you like to join us?”

Don't just stand there and talk. In her words, the two nod happily. Her silent companion nods shyly.

join (1) the end

lim Han-baek