Great Novelist

“Cheer up."

He encouraged her to appear onstage by chance and fixed her gaze forward. When I tried to find out how much longer to wait, the phone vibrated briefly. We were friends. Here we are. In that short question, he replied. Yes, there's a line.

A short while later, a text came from the West. There's a lot of people, right? He replied, "We're short 350 seats." The protagonist of the next vibration was faith. We're in the same floor seminar room. Sharing four text messages. He replied, "You're not nervous."

There, Compliance replied. I ate two hearing aids. Afterwards, a pretentious sentence of radical friendship appeared. He lowered his cellphone which kept ringing. It was time to enter.

“Please enter in turn! ”

Hearing the guide's words, he went into the hall. The eye height of the front seat was the same as the stage. It was inside like an auditorium. There were sloped seats like a movie theater. There were eight chairs on the stage and a bucket of water was prepared next to them. Sit there.

Thinking about the writers, he sat in the center of the front row. I can barely lift my head to meet the writer. Inside the hall, he huddles with the sound of anticipated audiences' conversations, and he takes a small breath while submitting himself to the commotion. The tension in the air.

I've been told how much they love their work and look forward to meeting the writer.

The lights went out in the room and the stage lit up. Writers appear backstage. The first thing that came out was the standing. He took off his churning and appeared dressed to the right place in no time. The crowd cheered and applauded him in a cheerful pace.

It appeared immediately following the stage in the following order: motive, best, calculation, adherence, closeness, belief, and section. My body vibrates with the sounds of readers. Their visions echo through the hall. Even with all the writers out, the screams did not diminish a bit.

After the section opened their mouths, they lowered their voice to hear the author's voice. Her voice flows through the microphone.

“Hello, I'm a writer. ”

Starting with her, eight writers began a simple self-introduction, one by one. The last person to open his mouth said after finishing the introduction.

“Unfortunately, the writer couldn't make it. ”

The readers of the hall sigh in sadness. 350 sighs are as powerful as screams. Ahh. Meanwhile, Australia, who was melting naturally and making sounds together, met with her in the middle.

“But they might be watching us somewhere. backstage, maybe in the audience. Suspect the person next to you. ”

A small laugh came out. Readers took it as a joke, but made eye contact with the person next to them. He also glimpsed the person next to him. I quickly said hello to my grandfather, who is wearing a gentleman's wife.

“So, let's start with the end and start book concert, whether it's literally a literary school or not. ”

Progress took place among the authors themselves. It was just a guide from behind the stage, sometimes invisible in the audience. The best thing about the composition was that the relationship or role that was formed between eight writers was passed directly to the audience. They're nothing.

It was still up there.

At the beginning, they each had time to read the most impressive paragraphs in each other's writings. Comrade Gil added that when reading a book in the west, the best part was always, the best sentence. I thought it was a joke when the audience saw it, but I meant it. His beauty

The wrinkles between the liver proved that.

They started talking about this literary magazine. The conversations of writers who criticize each other constantly have crossed dangerous heights. I didn't even want to talk about it. Faith and sorrow have become tears, but the rest of the writers either accept them or are unclean or phosphorus.

I continued my discussions about the work skillfully.

“Writer Junsu's sentence was very good. I don't know how many times I admired reading it. I wanted to tell everyone that this was a good example of using sentences, formulas. ”

“I'm afraid of what you might say in the back. ”

The person who obeyed the words of Dongil said with a good looking smile. They were similar and different. It was similar in the topic or direction of the article, but in terms of expressing it, it was a writer seeking contradiction. Serious and weighty, but one is concise and one is complex.

“It's nothing. I just thought it might be inefficient to convey content. ”

So his writing is inefficient from the point of view of the journey. Compliance opened his mouth without changing his face.

“I feel more and more like a motivator to exclude all emotions and rhymes in a sentence. ”

For Junsu, who loved poetry, his writing was so clever. We don't know which side is right, as always. The workshop was interrupted by the best.

“How was my writing? ”

I looked at the brave man who demanded self-criticism with the eyes of respect for his faith and companionship. The best was expressing confidence in his writing. The section lifts the microphone.

“It was sweet. The good side of love was emphasized strongly. I can't help but think I want to love you. It makes me feel better to see the connection between the two like a puzzle. It was immersive. However.”

The horse continues.

“I also felt like the interpretation of death was blurry. ”

The best death is too fresh for her to see. The best was not hit at all.

“You don't know what. It's the sheer freshness of my calculations. ”

Do you admit to being fresh? He laughed in vain.

“I was a little bit curious about your writing. What is this wet and dreary death? It's just for people who can enjoy it too much. ”

“If it felt that way, it means I wrote it right. ”

It would be too rich for the best. The two of them also had long substitutes. Finally, the worker opened his mouth cautiously.

“I've learned a lot. I think the most relaxing thing I could personally enjoy was a message from a believer. ”

“What's wrong with that? ”

I smiled with a smile of confidence.

“It was great because his writings were so gloomy and dry. That's a rare emotion. ”

“Thank you."

It wasn't just about biting each other. Interesting. He was already immune to criticisms that cooled the conversation of the audience, and watched the concert comfortably, just until his writing got on top of their cutting board.

“Let's move on to the writer by chance, shall we? ”

The hall rises sharply. The writers' gazes shifted and searched for themselves sitting in the audience. I didn't hear you say that. The writers were prepared to take the microphone to their mouths and discuss it as much as they wanted. People who fought for it a while ago.

It was a difficult atmosphere to think of.

“The accidental death written by the author is very direct. because the story itself represents the fleeting moment in a person's life towards death. ”

The section opens the door. It was information that all the readers who came here would know. They did not rush ahead of the prey. Comradeship added a little personal perspective.

“I want to focus here on where he's going to die. His death is drowning. They drown. So the water is what killed the individual. I called coincidentally right after I read his article. ”

Here, I heard a little cheer in the audience. I envy him for being able to call coincidentally. I didn't care about the company, but I was talking.

“And I asked. Why did you drown him? Why did they choose water? ”

I could feel the crowd concentrating. He calls, and he answers. He focuses on a medium of water that is obsessive enough. I have a good feeling about him.

“I've never heard this before. ”

Standing next to you, he murmurs a little, but no one accepts his words. Everyone was focused on the story of the journey, on the answer of coincidence.

“Coincidence speaks in a very light voice. It's just that.”

You hear a creaking sound next to you.

“Huh? That's it? ”

A rookie asked me onstage. Comrade Gil said with a cold face.

“Yes. I didn't tell you about the coincidence. I don't see that as a bad answer. Fixing meaning together is counterintuitive to the joy of writing. Especially coincidence. The author himself knows. ”

I couldn't find a replacement for the word experience, so I gave it to him roughly.

“Here's my interpretation. Coincidence describes in detail the horror of water entering the body or the agony of being unable to breathe. I felt that I had never drowned before in that description. because it resembles fear in society. ”

The best nods at your side.

“Water is a very symbolic word. The deep sea is dark and cold. And at the same time, it has a lot of life. It's a place where I can imagine my mother's womb with a vicious society. It's realistic, it's idealistic. I had a lot of those qualities under excellent control.

And as a result, we continue to read his writings in disgust. It's not enough for once. ”

He doesn't change his face, but gives his opinion. A round of applause burst from the audience for no reason. Best said small.

“I had a very arrogant feeling about his writing, or accidental writing. ”

I was trying to hide my words from the stage, but I could feel a strong sense of self in it.

“That's right."

“I did.”

“Me, me. ”

In his words, he built a little hoax as all writers tuned in. Arrogant. The section kindly explained why they were so impressed.

“You may not know this, but we have made a very short, one-on-one, impulsive decision to decide whether or not to be a literary enthusiast. There was some competition and respect for each other and some confidence in their writing. In that subtle neurological warfare,

It's a title, it's a topic, it's all set. There were coincidences. ”

I did. I was there, too.

“The shortest career we have is as an associate writer, but we all know it. that accidental writers are only 18 years old. Writers are just serious when they see it. There were no concessions and boats for each other, based on their careers and ages. Our Posts

if you've read. Everyone wrote with all their heart, looking at my writing. ”

A smile burst out from the audience. That smile didn't last long. It was the best I could do after what she said.

“But this one. No, he didn't admire you at all. He didn't even flinch, he didn't struggle, he didn't even admire you. There is only death in his writings. It's the only thing you can go for cute. He's going to have to go even further. Even if it's the same thing.

It's not gonna work like this. This is for me. I'm the only one who can say it. I'm the only one who can describe it. The only thing that can convey these feelings is the writing that was born in my hands. Grown-ups and outcasts and your writing is just a decoration. An embellishment to enhance your writing. Now I know.

It was a son, right? ”

The static arrives. He is genuinely irritated and deeply enraged. He was unfair. I never said that.

“What really pisses me off here is that coincidence didn't really mean that. It's all my emotional interpretation. He doesn't care about any other writer. It focuses solely on its own writings, only on itself. ”

No, they didn't. They cared enough. They wouldn't know how much they struggled amongst people who had been writing for 20 years. He looked with such a heart, but he couldn't even look himself in the eye because it was best to focus on himself. I just didn't want to hear him say it was for the best.

End of book concert (2)

lim Han-baek