Great Novelist

Sitting down, the section introduces you to her group.

“This is my close brother. Did you read that? Over the curtain.”

“Oh, yes. You mean Professor Dong's series? ”

Beyond the curtain was a mystery novel. A detective, also called Professor Dong, appears. A total of five novels so far are called the Eastern Professor's Series.

“This is the guy who wrote it. ”

The section's hand touches her shoulder. He knew her name.

“The writer of Faith? ”

“Seeing that he remembers, he must be reading a book. ”

She wrote numerous abstract novels. It was always the name that appeared when speaking domestic deduction novels. He saw the faith sitting next to the section. These are the people who are proud of the hot development.

“He's just trying to cover the day, that's all. He's fun to get to know. ”

The West says she has a face. I met her in the eye.

“Hello.”

I heard her voice for the first time. And I realized, with him,

“I know you. ”

It was a voice filled with shyness and strong curiosity. It's not the same as what I heard at the time. But the voice was the same. She's the one chanting for happiness in the bathroom here.

How do you two know each other? ”

“No, sister. I'm the only one who knows. ”

I said with confidence.

“I saw it here. You were with Mr. Hyun, weren't you? ”

“Yes, I came with you. ”

“Is Im Hyun also family with you? So you got in touch with the writer in the middle of the book? ”

She blinks and asks. In front of the object of curiosity, a stranger flew him over the sky. She was an abstract novelist, but the reasoning of the author's reasoning with the detective's reasoning was not proportional.

“Oh, you mean that thing you were calling about? It was you.”

“Family, right? Family? ”

The section now seems to know. I was thinking about what to say to the question of faith, but I was just enjoying watching. Under the three overwhelming gazes, he opened his mouth slowly.

“I'm not family. ”

The faith was greatly disappointed.

“Then what happens? Is this a problem we can ask? ”

The section asked with a slightly confused face. I was getting ready to step back. He smiled and said.

“You'd be surprised what I am. ”

“Don't blow up the detective line. ”

You ignore the murmur in the west. The section did not seem to be alternating between the West and Australia.

“It's not like I don't get the feeling. How old are you? ”

“I'm 17.”

“I'm not your brother. It's not like I didn't know you when you were talking about her. And Im Hyun is also a teacher. This is Song, a favorite restaurant for writers. ”

“Sis, what do you mean? ”

“You just hold still. ”

The section glanced at him with fierce eyes.

“I heard you met someone. Now that you've brought up the identity, does that mean it doesn't matter? ”

“Yes.”

When permission fell, she quickly said.

“Coincidence writer? ”

He lowered his head slightly.

“Nice to meet you. ”

Silence flows over my head. I raised my head. I met the faith I was facing.

“Phew.”

It was coming from her mouth.

“Huff, huff, huff. ”

With a signal, the section opens its mouth wide and smiles peacefully. The room was filled with the voices of two people. Then the door opened and Song woman came in. She looked at the table and said,

“The writers are all here. ”

“You're real.”

“Ms. Song is here to put the dot. ”

It was a kill shot. Words have different meanings depending on the situation. The reason she can see that the writer she speaks of includes Favor is because she has revealed her identity immediately. When the reaction of the two people was unusual, Song woman solidified her face like a baby bear and asked.

“Did I say something wrong? ”

“No, thank you. ”

“Really?"

She handed out the menu. He looked at the menu slowly, remembering the promise of that day. There were dishes with various ingredients, such as beef, salmon, etc.

“There's no crow meat. ”

“Haha, do you like crows? ”

“It's just that I've been a little interested lately. ”

“What about the same new chicken? I recommend it.”

“Yes, that's good. ”

Other writers have finished their spells. When Ms. Song left, the section said with a long face.

“Meeting is sudden. I never thought I'd run into a writer here. ”

“That's right, sis. ”

“Your reasoning still won't work. ”

“Yes, sister. ”

As Ms. Song said, it was a group of writers. I didn't have a reputation for being a popular writer.

“I was surprised, too. I didn't expect to see you two here. ”

“Let's eat and drink like this. ”

The West says the section has collapsed.

“You can't even drink. ”

“You both eat well. Two Cokes and two Soju. It's perfectly balanced. ”

“Yes, let's get him to do it. Wine.”

“Yes, sister. ”

When the food finally filled the table, Coke and wine were together. He ate the chicken in front of me. Soft meat was chewed with a unique sauce. It was delicious.

“Delicious.”

“Yes. It's full of affection. ”

The section said while cutting.

“You read the cry well. It's really thick.”

It was a concise look. He thanked me.

“Yes, you're a real person. ”

“You know what I mean? ”

“What can I say? I feel like I don't exist. There's no face, no gender. Well, a machine can't write something that human. ”

The section asked in a gentle voice.

“I was really curious about how accidental writers write. Now that we've met, can I ask you a few questions? ”

“It's nothing special. ”

“Ah.”

“It's true.”

Nothing really special. All I can think about and write about. Faith suddenly made me curious.

“What made you write for the first time? ”

“I was bored.”

“You were bored?”

“It was a light start. ”

The belief that it can be, "asked the next question.

“Then where did you get that character from the crying? You've really got it under control. Do you have a real model? ”

“No, it wasn't. ”

“So you wrote it in your head? ”

The section intervenes. He replies lightly.

“Close enough. though the medium of tobacco had been inspired elsewhere. ”

“It must be hard to imagine to describe such a delicate touch. ”

She was right. You can't meet her on a simple imaginary line.

“I went in a little more. ”

“More? ”

“Yes.”

“Where to?”

“in a situation that I created. ”

“That's abstract. ”

“I can't help it. This is my way. It's hard to convey what you are to others. ”

“I see. It's hard to accept. ”

The section raises its glass and says:

“But this lady won't give up because it's hard. Tell me more about it. ”

At that time, he followed her for a sip of water to clear his mind. I've never talked about this before. I have never known a writer in the past and have never had a special education. That is, there was no one around to talk to. I started explaining it in a slightly unfamiliar way.

“Well, what I do is actually simple. They see, they feel, they write. ”

“How do you feel about what? ”

“I see what I want to see, I feel what I want to feel. ”

“Hard.”

In the words of faith, Lord chose the words carefully.

“It's more of an illusion than an imagination. I told you I'd get into it. because if you create a specific space, even the unfinished can show up. It's okay. We move the number of streets, the scuffs on the walls, the piles of rubbish in the alleys. If you're in a hurry, you can call me where I am. ”

Recently, I've been singing a lot over here to write two stories.

“· · · · · So, you call it when you're done? ”

“No, it happens at the same time as the idea. because when you meet them and you talk to them, you see a story. ”

The section's glabellar narrows a little.

“Is that spontaneous? ”

“Yes, so the space collapses quickly. ”

“How can you think of that right away? ”

I can only say that. The section gives a hollow smile as he shuts up.

“It's too abstract. ”

“I'm blurry, too. I can't show it myself, and it's hard to explain it clearly. ”

“I can't use this. ”

The west murmurs. He asks him.

“How do you write? ”

“We usually start with research. Oh, it might have been a little like you in the single room. They were the materials I found inside of me. I don't know if it's a fantasy because it's a situation. ”

The faith I was listening to said.

“How does it feel to see you? ”

“I don't know.”

How does it feel? He remembers the memories on the sand. It was a little hard to stop the two of them from fighting. I was stunned by her harsh and disrespectful attitude, and it wasn't easy to talk to her.

She was smoking a cigarette. She was in worse shape. When I first saw him, all I could think about was my mouth. He didn't say anything. He had to find clues within a limited time, and he was on board.

“It gets a little sharper. ”

“Why? It would be nice to talk to someone I imagined. ”

“It's more like a fantasy than I imagined. You can do whatever you want with your imagination. ”

“Isn't this a vision? ”

The clerk asked briefly. He just naturally met them from some point on. I don't know what to say.

“I just let it go. They have their freedom. I have my freedom. Interference is possible, of course, but we're trying to minimize it as much as possible. because that's how you get it. ”

“What do you get in the first place? A story? ”

He replied after a little silence.

“Maybe it's about personality. ”

Fellas, you're standing and clapping your hands. I realized something.

“I see. Your methods make people hungry. ”

“What does that mean? ”

“It consumes a lot of calories. in a word.”

It's hard. I don't know. Without succumbing to the curiosity of the parties, he adds to his interpretation.

“Yeah. Kind of. The visions you see are puberty and menopause. ”

“Is that so?"

“The way you take it is to maximize the unique characteristics of a person, background, or novel itself. They do what they want. She's a personality, like you said. There is only one in the world. ”

The last sentence he said sticks in his chest. In the western commentary, only other writers began to understand one by one. Faith said with a face that reminded me.

“Great! It's a longing for literature. ”

“Yes?”

“You can see that without drinking. It's like a drug with no side effects of destruction! ”

“Is she drunk? ”

“No way. He drinks better than I do. ”

The section said boldly, tilting the wine glass. The author of faith was originally a person like that.

“There's not a lot of alcoholics among writers for no reason. Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and John Cheever all loved booze. And at the same time, I loved fantasies. Alcohol is the hallway to the door. That's why he's been drinking so much in spite of the crash. A key to liberating the brain trapped in reason and Moral! ”

Faith lifted its head toward him and said:

“I envy that you can go back and forth between reality and reality at such a sane, inexplicable age! Brilliant. Brilliant! ”

He leaned back and realized that she didn't shout happiness in the bathroom for no reason.

join (2) the end

lim Han-baek